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topgunafterdark · 2 years ago

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bob and the reader having sex in the top gun academy or something and getting caught by phoenix or hangman or rooster?

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x f!reader

Title: Private Tour

Featuring The female reader working part time at the Hard Deck

Tags: smut, soft dom Bob, submission, needy, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, desk sex, begging, TOPGUN, semi-public sex, getting caught, vaginal sex, sex from behind, tits, Phoenix has more patience than anyone else on earth, Bob is too powerful to be stopped, bubble tea

I’m not always able to tag people depending on your account settings, so if you don’t want to miss things, maybe subscribe to the account so you get alerts? Or subscribe to mistressolivia on ao3 because everything will get cross posted there. Like 95% of what’s on here will be me writing Bob Content because this is a scandalous side account. Regardless, I’ll do my best, but there were a couple people tumblr just didn’t want to tag. ~Naughty~

Private Tour

It keeps happening, and you have no one to blame but yourself. This time it’s happening at the TOPGUN mission training facility, because Bob showed up at the bar again and you asked him for a tour of said training facility rather than just ask him to fuck you, which is what you’d actually wanted. The mildly amused expression on Bob’s face said it all: he knew what you really wanted, and he had no intention of fucking you unless you asked for it first.

That’s just how Bob is. The first time around, he was a little more open, a little more cautious. You were new to one another, after all. But now that he knows he’s got you, all bets are off. He’s still sweet, but he’s also whip-smart, and from the way he expertly winds you up, he’s an expert people-reader. And he absolutely refuses to do anything to you without your say-so. It shouldn’t have been maddening. Literally, it isn’t. In practice, it is. Euphemisms are one thing; he lets you get away with them, so long as you pair your subtlety with physical advancements. But he won’t do the verbal heavy lifting on your behalf; one night, he showed up at the Hard Deck all alone, and you gave him the horniest once over on planet earth. You bit your lip, tilted your head just so, and pushed your tits out a little. And Bob smiled at you, finished his beer, left you a respectable tip, and went home. Your desires are your responsibility, after all.

The little fucker didn’t have to enjoy it so much, though. Right before he went out the door that night, you saw that sweet little smile turn a bit naughty. Submission doesn’t have to involve teeth and rope, canvas sacks, rigs installed into ceilings. Sometimes, it involves waiting. Bob makes you wait. Bob makes you say what you want. It makes you feel small, and dirty, and helpless to the whims of your libido to tell him exactly what you want. And you kind of fucking love it.

You asked for a tour. So he gave you a tour. Here is the front desk, he said. Here is the hangar. Over there, jets. No, you cannot photograph them. Here are the bathrooms. Here are some important people photographed on the wall. The whole time, he’s just grinning like an idiot and you are horny as hell and mad about it. He’s waiting for you to say it. He’s waiting for you to want him plainly, with no room for misunderstanding. A couple of his peers--you don’t know about any of them except for Natasha, or Phoenix, because he’d pointed her out to you as his pilot--walk by in their jumpsuits, shooting you curious glances that don’t go any further than that. By the time Bob lets you inside an empty classroom, points out the physics equations on the board, and hands you a model F-18--“They’re called Super Hornets,” he informs you--you’re ready to tear off your clothes and fuck him. Or kill him. You’re holding out for the former, though.

“I’m not wearing any underwear,” you respond. Your face becomes a fire hazard.

He comes one step closer. It’s the only thing he’ll do. You have to take the next step.

“Sounds very liberating,” he says. “Something you want?”

“You know what I fucking want, Bob.”

“Consent is very important,” he tells you with all the gravitas of a man who knows he’s the smartest one in the room more often than not. “So if there’s something you want, you should tell me. It’s easy.”

“You think it’s easy?” Flustered, you take a step back, hands on your hips, unsure if you want to bail out the window or just remove the rest of your clothing and stare him down until he does something about it.

“Of course,” he says. He leans up against the heavy desk at the front of the room and runs a finger across its surface. “For example, I want to bend you over this desk and make sweet, tender love to you. Now, you try. It’s fun.”

You’re going to kill him. You’re going to kill him, and no one will ever find the body.

“You’re a real smartass, Bob. And I bet you get away with it, don’t you?”

“It’s the glasses,” he sighs in mock exasperation. “And the baby face. What can I do?”

“You can fuck me,” you say. The words feel like taffy getting pulled from between your teeth: sticky, difficult, stubborn. But also: so very sweet. “Over this desk. Like you said. I want you to fuck me over this desk.”

“There you go,” Bob says.

With two gentle fingers to the top of your spine, he turns you around to face the desk, those same two fingers trailing down your back to become a gentler push, and you bend down until your breasts squish against the wood. You’re wearing a skirt again because you knew it would make things easier, and because you like to spread your legs to go deeper; shorts and pants make that a pain.

Two fingers become three: he sticks them inside you all at once, up to the palms of his hands, and you’ve got no time to be sheepish about how wet and ready you are before he’s fingering you open, one slick thumb heading down to pass feather-light over your clit. It’s teasing, and torture, and you’ve never felt better.

“You’re very enthusiastic,” Bob remarks, and you can hear the grin you can’t see. “It’s a shame you aren’t more forward more often.” What an absolute, little shit.

But then the fingers are gone, and he’s down on his knees with his face right between your thighs, eating you out with all the passion you know he’s capable of, when all everyone else sees is a bookish nerd who wouldn’t know sarcasm if it hit him in the face. His tongue rubs against your clit, and he tarries there long enough for over-stimulation to kick in, but when you try to move he grabs your hips nearly hard enough to bruise.

“You don’t want to move,” he says, breathless. “Do you? Say it. You want more.”

“I want more,” you admit. Your body burns like a wildfire. “I do.”

“Manners,” he chides.

“Please.”

You gasp when his tongue returns, and penetrates you as deep as you can go, occasionally replaced by fingers--three, and then four before you can’t fucking take it anymore.

“Fuck me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck me.”

You are released. From behind, you hear the sound of a belt buckle, fabric being jostled, and then the head of his cock is pushing up against you, the thick mass of it just as impressive by touch as it is by sight. How the fuck, you think as he starts guiding himself in, did a guy like Bob wind up with this cock? He bottoms out with a grunt, and you squeeze around him, relishing in the sensation. There’s a bit of a burn, but the old hoo-hah has had a few rounds to acclimate itself to Bob’s obscenely large pants-snake, and Bob can feel it just as much as you can. Naturally, he comments.

“It’s getting easier,” he says, drawing his hips back and snapping them forward. “What are you going to do with yourself after I leave?”

It’s so good. It’s so fucking good and he’s one stroke in. “Get the biggest dildo I can,” you say through gritted teeth. “I will name it in your honor.”

The laugh that follows is kind, and genuine. “Consider me pre-honored by the fact. Please send photos of the naming ceremony.” He draws out again, and snaps back harder.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He thrusts again. Again. Again. “I would,” Bob says. “Please allow me to send my gratitude early.”

You’ve got just enough time to swear and grab the edge of the desk to hold on, and then Bob cuts loose. Your feet lift up off the floor, your breasts are bouncing, your spine is arched, and unless the vents in the room are closed you’re giving all the facility neighbors one hell of a show. With every sharp movement of his hips, Bob tears a new reaction out of you: a gasp, a moan, a breathy whine, a plea, his name, a groan. You can feel your muscles relax, your body itself shifting to let more of him in, to push back and meet him somewhere near the middle, to relish in the way his balls slap against you, which is a dirty pleasure you hadn’t even known you’d entertained until meeting him.

There’s no more sass from the man himself. When he gets to work, he gets to work, and after the last time you were promised no more dad jokes in bed. Bob did negotiate successfully for the presence of dad jokes during pillow talk. But if somebody was in or on somebody else--nada.

“Almost there,” he says, and speeds up. “Me or you?”

“Me,” you say. Shifting one forearm to rest flat on the desk for stability, you let your now-free hand come down to touch yourself, the decadent high of penetration joined by the electric, intense feeling just above. You become a vessel for nothing but your own pleasure, and his, and when you come you transform into a babbling mess, the fuck yes mixing with the please, please and harder and don’t stop until you can’t tell which way is up. You slap both hands palm-down on the desk and arch up as far as you can go, stretching out your orgasm as long as you can, Bob’s hand roughly lifting your shirt so he can pull and pinch at your breasts and nipples.

They’re personal--all the little touches that Bob learned you like. Because yeah, he’s a freak in the sheets, and yeah, he’s a lot spicier than you thought he could be, but he’s also observant and thoughtful. What you share might not be exclusive--you haven’t really talked that over with him since you know his presence here is temporary--but it’s personal, god damn it. Private.

So of course that’s the moment that the classroom door opens and Bob’s pilot, Phoenix walks in holding two large bubble teas. The instant she realizes what she just burst in on, Phoenix yelps and spins around.

“Bob. What the fuck. Again? Again?”

Bob doesn’t even stop. He does apologize, at least. What the fuck have these two been through together, you wonder? You knew being in the military involved some measure of modesty loss, but you’d thought there was a fucking limit, Jesus Christ.

“Sorry,” he says, and moves a tad faster, finishing with a silent inhale that you can feel expanding across your back from his chest. “Thought we’d be done by now.”

“Dude, what the hell. This is fucking ridiculous, Floyd. What is this, number seven on my list of times I’ve walked in on you humping some random person?”

“Oh, the last name. I’m in trouble.” Bob pulls out with a squelch, and you just screw your eyes shut as hard as you can. If you can’t see her, she can’t see you! Logic.

“I should just drink both of these, you nasty-ass bastard.”

“Considering this bubble tea is an apology purchase, which was promised to me after I walked in on you pegging you-know-who two days ago, I think not.”

Phoenix makes a sound of disgust, but even without knowing her you can tell it’s resting on a foundation of fondness. You feel a bit like a third wheel. Opening one eye a crack, you see Phoenix set one of the bubble teas down on a desk, flip Bob off, and leave the room.

“Love you,” she calls over her shoulder.

“I know,” Bob says. “Star Wars,” he offers you by way of explanation after you pull your shirt down and stand back up.

“You guys have known each other for a while, huh?”

“Work spouses ‘til we die. We’re the only ones who can stand each other, I’m afraid.” Bob tucks an errant strand of your hair back in its place. “Let’s get you back home. I hope your tour was educational. I just love learning new things.”

“It was,” you say, smiling despite yourself, and you stare at his hand all the way back to the parking lot, wondering what sort of mad courage you’d need to possess first before you had the guts to reach out and hold on.

#top gun bob floyd #top gun bob #bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #x reader #reader x bob #reader x bob floyd #female reader #bob is offering himself up as a meal but you have to pick up the goddamn fork #bob x female reader #bob x reader #whoever Phoenix pegged is between me and god

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levis-little-nuggie · 4 years ago

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hi! i just saw the post about requests and could you write some fluffy sex headcanons with the brothers? we don't really see stuff like that so i thought i'd ask

Bless you nonny for the request 💜💜 this uh, turned out a lot longer than I had anticipated, probably because I haven't written anything in a good while 😅

Asmo and Belphie will have their own posts 💜

Nsft, obviously, so everything is under the Read More. I made the reader as gender neutral and inclusive as I could. Please let me know if at any point, I was exclusive.

Fluffy Sex Headcanons of the Demon Brothers

(minus Asmo and Belphie)

Lucifer

This man will top or bottom solely dependent upon what you want. Sex with him is moreso about pleasing his partner than just getting off. His preferences are fine tuned to your desires and your body’s limits. Lucifer’s sin feeds off of the immense pride a lover feels when they know you and your body better than you do

He may act cold and aloof in public and in front of others, coming off as stoic and arrogant, but it’s a completely different story behind closed doors.

However you want him, he’ll comply. You’ve done the impossible and captured his heart. Don’t let this old man and his brown shoes fool you, he’ll drown you in passion.

He’ll gladly play the Dom role, but he’ll also gladly be your sub as well.

If you’re into BDSM and prefer him to Dom, you can expect an intensive aftercare routine that would rival Asmo’s. It’s not that he doesn’t like hurting you or pushing you to your limits, he just wants to reward you for being so good for him and wants to remind you how much he loves you.

If you’re into BDSM and prefer to Dom yourself, go crazy! While you would be capable of marking and bruising his skin, you can’t physically hurt or break him beyond light scratches. He can break out of whatever restraints you put him, even if they are demon-grade. You would need actual spells to diminish his strength to put him on par with a lower-class demon if you wanted him to actually feel any real pain, but if it’s what you want, he’ll do it. Expect a conversation beforehand about what you want and how he can do that for you. He wants there to be clear communication so he knows how best to serve you in the moments to come.

Sure the sex is fantastic, but he’ll show you how much he loves you in the tender moments after. The afterglow is his favorite part, both of you basking in the remnants of pleasure coursing through you, the physical numbness, and the swell of feel-good chemicals swirling through your bodies. This is when he’ll hold you closest, pepper your skin with kisses unable to stop himself, he’ll play with your hair if you have it, his eyes will be bright, his smile will be unrestrained. He may even start humming a long-forgotten lullaby or your favorite song as he rests his head against your chest, hearing your heartbeat in blissful content until one of you decides it’s time to get cleaned up.

No matter how long the day has been, the amount of hours he’s put into all that damn paperwork, he’ll always make time to pamper you after sex. If you prefer to shower alone, he’ll let you go first and have the bed ready with new, clean sheets and clean towels set out for you when you’re done. Prefer to sleep with pajamas? He has a drawer dedicated to your favorite things along with some new ones he bought for you.

Mammon

Ah yes, the tsundere. The dumbass in the streets, dumbass in the sheets. The one who has more hair-brained ideas than he does fingers and toes in one week. One of the greatest banes of Lucifer’s existence.

His push and pull personality might have you questioning the validity of his feelings, but I believe that Mammon wouldn’t be partaking in fluffy sex at all unless he was absolutely smitten.

With how his brothers treat him, he’s reluctant to open his heart to you and fully accept that at some point, you won’t start insulting him either. However, equipped with the sin of greed, Mammon’s completely helpless when you compliment and reassure him.

His standoffish attitude is a front, a feeble attempt to keep up his reputation as “The Great Mammon,” but he’s got himself wrapped around your finger before he even realizes it and that facade would melt away instantly at your smallest of smiles, a kiss on his cheek or back of his hand, a surprise compliment, anything that makes his heart skip a beat.

Of the brothers, he has one of the weakest composers around you mainly because he’s also one of the horniest.

Sex with Mammon can be rushed; a quickie between classes, a broken composure that has him feeling dehydrated for you, a clash of tongues and teech and a burning desire that encompasses both of you until you find release.

However, the sweetest and fluffiest sex with Mammon would be when either of you are feeling emotionally vulnerable.

He’ll treat you like you’re the greatest treasure to have ever existed in all three realms, with a delicacy as if you’re fragile because he knows he can be careless and reckless. He’ll be in his head a lot making sure he’s taking care of you, that you feel good, doing his damndest to keep you satisfied so there’s no room in your heart to doubt him. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep that sparkle in your eye when you look at him, to never lose you and never have to experience the day you realize his brothers have been right all along.

And I mean he’ll do whatever and however. Any wish is his command, but you’ll have more work cut out for you if you suggest the both of you participating in a threesome or more. He wants you all to himself, it’s his greed, but it’s your reassurance and validation that will have him like putty in your hand.

He’s more than okay with both of you falling asleep in your mess, but more often than not, he’ll wait until you’ve dozed off to clean up. In these moments, he takes the time to worship every inch of your skin, like polishing a priceless jewel. His intentions are pure, most of the time, he just likes to wait till you’re asleep so there’s no chance for you to tease him about it. It also allows his greed to soak up your peaceful expression, the way your body reaches out to him after he’s finished cleaning and comes back to curl up next to you.

There’s a secret photo album hidden on his phone filled with pictures of the both of you like this, your lashes against your cheeks, your freckles or sun spots, any blemishes or scars that he’s covered in kisses countless of times, your hand in his and vice versa, memories of how sweet and tender your love is, filled with emotions he struggles to put into words.

Leviathan

It all depends how you play your cards with this one. Teasing him is easy and it’ll get him all flustered, but pair that with his raging horniness and you’ll be walking a fine line between a Dom or sub Levi.

However, if it’s fluffy and sweet sex you want, treat him gently and he’ll return the favor. It’ll take a bit of time and effort to get here, on both your parts, but if you’re willing to put in the work, he’ll make it worth it. Like Mammon, this means sex will be its fluffiest when either both of you or one of you is emotionally vulnerable.

We’ve recently been blessed by the devs on a cannon description of his tail, confirming that it is snake-like with scales. This also means, however, that his tail is sensitive to touch and he has full control of its movements. During a more sweet intimacy, he likes to wrap his tail around a limb, your arm or your leg. It’s only when he’s in Dom or sub mode that he likes to use his tail in a more active manner.

It’s important for him, whether he realizes it or not, that during these moments, that he’s the one touching you, not his tail. If you ask him to use his tail too much during sex, he’ll start to think that you’re only with him because of his tail.

He’ll want to see you even though his room is dimly lit. He also knows his tub bed might not be the most comfortable so he’ll invest in a mattress to put on the floor by the tank, and a few fluffy blankets, from the Ruri-chan line of course, to keep you warm and comfortable so you’ll never want to leave his room, just like him.

He prefers any position that has the two of you lying together, with your face in clear view because he can’t get enough of the faces you make because of the pleasure he’s responsible for making you feel. He’ll be more focused on your voice, your body language, your reactions to reassure him he’s doing something right.

To see your naked skin kissed with the reflection of the water from the tank is his favorite part. He actually got a nosebleed the first time he saw you like that.

Sex with the otaku is a learning experience that requires patience and repetitive reassurance. He’s certain that no one could ever love him, and it’s going to cost a lot of mental energy, and it can be disheartening at times where it seems he’s not made any progress in loving himself at all, but you’ll both also have an opportunity to create something truly beautiful between the two of you. Falling in love with your best friend, and having your feelings returned with all their heart is one of the most beautiful things to ever experience.

Satan

I like to imagine that Satan is akin to that tiger DILF in Zootopia looking at his tablet while on the train, you know, the one who looks like he’ll take good care of you? Listen, during one of his Devilgram stories, the man pitches a tent (like an actual tent, not a boner you guys) and makes both of you cups of hot chocolate. You can pry this hc out of my cold, dead hands.

Sex with Satan is actually more often fluffy and sweet than anyone would assume because he’s the Avatar of Wrath. Just like all the other brothers, Satan is more than his sin. That being said, Satan is still CEO of Angry Sex™ but he’s also more intune to his own feelings than the rest of his brothers.

It’s after his more violent fits of rage that he’s seeking your comfort. It’s difficult for him to come down from his wrath; the worse the fit is, the more broken and twisted he feels. He didn’t like coming to you at first because he knows how mentally draining it can be for a human to deal with someone like that, but you’ve insisted in your endearing and stubborn way that he can and needs to rely on you more. You threatened to find all the sources proving your point for the success of any relationship and he eventually gave in, accepting your kindness and your love.

In turn, he provides you with an arsenal of reading material and spells you can arm yourself with for a plethora of reasons; mainly self-defense against demons, a history of successful and failed attempts to prank Lucifer, as well as guides for subjects in class to help you study.

Unlike his previous brothers, sex with Satan is more about the pleasure you both feel. Of course he’ll still be mindful of your pleasure, but he can also get lost in his own desire. No matter how far gone he is, you know that the moment you utter the safeword, he’ll stop immediately and assess the situation. The safeword is actually a simple spell that he’d found when you two started getting more intimate.

On days he’s feeling extra playful, he’ll dress up for you; a collar with a bell, cat ears, a butt plug with a tail attached. He loves to be your little kitty cat, and will practically foam at the mouth if you ever dressed up like a slutty cat for him, but this doesn’t lead to fluffy smut times.

While he has no issues with PDA, Satan reserves his more soft and fluffy side for when you two are totally alone. He’s proactive in looking up cute date ideas and is the type to go all out turning his bed or his floor into a nest of pillows and blankets, cups of tea, hot chocolate, coffee, whatever you prefer, a variety of little snacks, and turn his wall into a projection screen to watch old-fashioned black and white romance movies.

For Satan, it’s the moments leading up to the sweet intimacy filled with love and adoration that are his favorites. Being the reason your face brightens, tears of happiness well in the corner of your eyes, the way your smile makes his heart stutters, Satan loves showing you how much you mean to him mainly because he knows he’s not the best with words. He could recite any poem of strings of song lyrics, but he believes actions speak louder than words.

He actually prefers for you to have control in these moments; there’s less of a chance he could hurt you and it’s another way to prove his love. He’ll only ever bottom for you. He was reluctant at first, but it’s like you opened his eyes to a whole new world he didn’t know about. He still likes to act like he's a cat and you're his mouse, but he also likes it when you take over and make him bow to your whim. You've gained his trust as well as his heart and he believes that the power dynamic in a relationship should be balanced.

During the most intimate moments, either right after sex or waking up together in the morning after sleeping in, you'll both enter this Cat Speak mode. One of you will start, just a cute little "mrow?" and you'll go back and forth entertaining a semblance of a conversation but without saying anything. There's no actual conversation happening, it's just the two of you making cat noises at each other, giggling and riding the high of this special intimacy specially reserved for these moments of bliss.

Beel

Let’s be honest, 9 times out of 10 your sex with the sixth-born will be fluffy and sweet. He’s like the personified version of a golden retriever. He loves you and has the instinct to want to take care of you. You’re such a small, delicate human, and his brothers love you too so when you’re in Beel’s care, he makes sure you’re satisfied more than just sexually.

Anything you’re willing to give him, he’ll accept wholeheartedly expressing his love and gratitude in the form of huge grins, hugs, a hearty chuckle, and peppering kisses across your face.

Even though he’s not as sexually active as some of his brothers, once you get this big guy started, be prepared to cancel any plans you have for the rest of the day… and also the day after just to be safe. He has the most energy and will keep going until he’s had you against every solid surface in his room, minus Belphie’s furniture of course. Regardless of your size or how you look, he’ll make you feel weightless as he carries you around the room effortlessly

He loves the way you taste, gliding his tongue over your skin like you’re an ice-cream cone that never melts, he’s actually growled a number of times when you tried pulling yourself away from him. His eyes had turned shades darker than normal before you snapped him out of it. He would apologize profusely and kill the mood so as to make sure he’s in the right headspace and you’re okay.

This has only happened a few times, but he still loves to taste every inch of you whenever he has you all to himself. He leaves you covered in hickeys and love bites and even though he’ll apologize, you know he feels absolutely no shame in his brother’s reactions to seeing you covered the next day.

His favorite part is helping you ride out your orgasm with his mouth. He knows he’s more skilled with his mouth anyway and just, the man cannot get enough of you or your taste. Depending on where he’s at when you orgasm, if he’s close, he’ll paint your skin in his release, and then clean up the mess and drag you in for snuggles. If he’s not quite there yet, he’ll assess your energy levels and wait until you’re ready to go again or keep going, depending on who topped or bottomed. He’s all about consent and wants to join you when you’re fully blissed out regardless if he’s finished or not (meaning he’ll deny his own release in order to lie with you).

Aftercare comes almost second nature to him. He’s already carrying you to the bathroom and soaking you off in the shower before you realize it. The warm water and his large hands invade your senses and he urges you to let go, to let him take care of you and it’s like a dream. His calloused hands offer a sort of comforting roughness that keeps you grounded. If you want shower sex, you’ll have to initiate it.

Actually, that’s pretty accurate for Beel. You want sex? You’re either going to have to initiate it or tell him straight out. Poor guy does not take hints well as he is very oblivious.

#like i said #longer than expected 😅#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me Lucifer fluff #obey my Mammon fluff #obey me leviathan fluff #obey me Levi fluff #obey me satan fluff #obey me beel fluff #so many tags #obey me nsft #obey me headcanons #obey me fluff

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normally-alexis · 4 years ago

Text

|| Twins

Pairings - Wilbur x Reader × Techno

Growing up within the Philza Minecraft household it was pretty tough being the only girl there. Tommy would always be yelling at Tubbo so you couldn't study properly, Wilbur was always loud fighting with Tommy. You all weren't blood-related but Philza just took you in from Dream when you were in your teenage years.

At the time You, Techno, and Wilbur were close to age so you all would get along smoothly. When you were 15 Techno and Wilbur were 16, Philza had you guys train a lot and work. You sorta were one of Philza's favorites so you didn't have to work all the time.

You and Techno were in a pretty tight relationship, he was calm and collective and wasn't so loud. He was one of the reasons that keep the house quiet. Wilbur was sorta the opposite of his twin and It showed, he was into music while Techno wanted anarchy and no government.

Tommy usually wasn't home because he played with Tubbo, being only teenagers it was pretty boring without social interaction from other people. You decided to train with Techno for a while to get better if you needed to fight against anything or anyone.

He said he'd be gentle even though he wasn't even that stronger than you were, it wasn't a sword fight because you didn't want to get scared it was just a normal training session on seeing who gets on the ground first.

Of course, it's unfair since he weighs more than you. "This is unfair, you weigh more," you didn't like being on the ground more or less being underneath somebody. "I thought you like challenges." He stops for a moment and puts his hands in his pocket.

"Not ones I know that I'm going to lose," He knew that he would win so you can't let him win on his own. "Unrelated topic {Y/N}," you look back at him shifting your attention and hum as a response. "Since we aren't blood-related we could be in a relationship."

He's not wrong but it would be a large pill to swallow being in a relationship with somebody you grew up with. "You aren't wrong but we're still minors," you laugh it off not thinking about the moment.

As you grew up you didn't stop thinking about that moment that Techno said 5 years ago, you were an adult at the time so you could do anything now including drinking and having sex. You hung out with Techno and Wilbur more often since Tommy was a teenager you only sometimes visit him whenever you visit Philza.

You had a pretty big place to stay in but it was very secretive since you were attached to it and whenever somebody has attachments on the server it's a weigh down. You exit out of your house walking down the stairs.

You hear your wolf barking and ignore the sounds, Techno had invited you to a Hot springs to catch up on whatever you guys were doing. Nothing much was thought about the moment but you thought about being alone with Techno half-naked.

You continue walking through the dirty and deep vines, your shoe gets stuck halfway but you shake it off and keep going. The hot springs weren't originally spawned but it was something built by Lazarbeam.

You weren't far away from anything so it wasn't going to be such a long walk, you cut through the forest to get into the Dream SMP. Not too far from the path, you were a few feet from the hot springs.

You just assumed you were earlier than Techno and you open the door to the hot springs, you walk inside and close the door looking around. Techno's crown and cape is placed on the hook, he was here before you.

There's a red beanie on a hook as well but you don't look at it very much. You take off your jacket and hang it on the hook, you throw your shoes on the ground and leave them in the room. You make your way into the Female bathroom and close the door behind you.

You start stripping off your clothes off and taking your bra and underwear off. You place your old clothes on the top shelf, you throw your pocket knife on the ground because you didn't want it to get rusty inside of the bath.

You walk over towards the shower area and grab the showerhead, you turn it on and start spraying your body with the water. After a few light sprays of water, you grab a towel and wrap it around your chest.

You keep it tied up tightly, You look at your legs making sure they aren't bruised or showing any body hair. It wasn't visible or wasn't even there so you made your way out of the bathroom outside where the hot tub was.

You peek outside and see Wilbur and Techno waiting, having a dirty mind came with two perks. Having a threesome with men you grew up with but weren't blood-related too, or have rough sex with one of them and let the other be jealous.

You shake the thoughts and enter inside of the hot tub. You remove the towel once you were in the water and throw it to the side. You had seen male genitals before nothing to be dirty-minded about, plus you and Techno had multiple moments when you've seen each other naked.

being stared down at by two men naked was very odd. "Techno remember five years ago when we were about to fight," he takes a moment to think back Wilbur wasn't aware of the situation because it was an inside thing.

"Yeah, I suppose," he responds since you guys were still minors at the time of the conversation before it was illegal but if you did it now it wouldn't be illegal. The guilt of having sexual acts with somebody you grew up with faded away the older you grew up.

It's embarrassing to out yourself in such a pitiful way, "Want to do it now?" Knowing that Wilbur was still there with you and Techno it sorta gave you an ego boost. "Wilbur's still here," you smile at techno and cover the expressions because that's immature.

"Threesomes exist," Obviously there wouldn't be any relationship between Wilbur and Techno it was just having relationships toward the female in the relationship. Techno stays quiet for a moment and Wilbur leaned back putting his arms up.

You move closer to Technoblade and grab his chin looking back up at him. "C'mon Techno You'd enjoy it," teasing Technoblade is a very dominant move since he's normally more dominant than others.

Techno gives in and places his hands on your waist picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist. He moves you both over towards Wilbur, Techno moves his towel to the side and places you on top of him.

You stop for a moment to take him in at once. Virgins are usually the horniest people, you don't move for a while neither does he at least 'for the moment.'

Wilbur isn't getting much attention since you had more feelings for Techno but also shared a good amount with Wilbur. Technoblade was everybody's favorite... Wilbur moves behind you grabbing onto your boobs.

He pinches your nipples for a moment, teasing your reflexes. You squeal from it and then get very weak from it. Techno starts moving himself but it's not fast because the water slows the pace down.

Nothing could go possibly wrong, just with your two favorite boys.. Wilbur rubs over your nipples not being so rough on you. Techno grabs one of your legs and spreads it further apart by a little giving him more room to work with.

The water was getting really warm against your skin and the teasing wasn't helping it very much. Two twins in opposite positions one teasing your upper half the other teasing your lower half. Wilbur got bored and started leaving bite marks on your body, each bitemark trace hurt from the last one.

Techno hit your g-spot even inside of the water and you squirm and squeal. Guest the statement "never trust twins" comes into play at this moment. It's not safe to climax into a hot tub even though there's chlorine inside of the water it's still dangerous.

Before you could ever state that you were going to Climax Techno stops thrusting and then pulls out causing you to have a failed orgasm. He likes seeing you on your edge knowing that you can't get what you wanted.

Your body was covered in bite marks and it was very visible. "You're so annoying," Techno laughs at you and flicks your head leaving you with Wilbur holding closely onto you.

✩‧₊ Make Sure to Drink water / Eat ✩‧

✩‧ Btw it's about to be 4 am < 3 ✩‧

#mcyt smut #mcyt x reader smut #mcyt x reader #techno smut #wilbur smut

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thequeenofmyownscreen · 3 years ago

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Fourteen things I noted about CR2E88 “Unwanted Reunions” and the Talks Machina about it :

Laura is at the Video Game Awards for the beginning of the episode, but makes her grand entrance 40 minutes in, dressed up and looking BEAUTIFUL. I thought Travis' heart eyes at his wife were the greatest thing. Turns out, she just left the award show without waiting to see if she won her category, because she saw on Twitter than Sam was using her dice ! And she wanted to play D&D with her friends. ICONS ONLY. STAND-UP OVATION FOR MRS. LAURA BAILEY. Sam, 100% serious : "I think we all admire your priorities."

Jester, very cheerfully, about Trent : "We could just kill him, chop him up into little tiny pieces, and then we escape to Xhorhas and we never come back !!" Seems like a good plan, honestly. If anyone deserves that, it's Trent. Also love that Caleb flash-backed to the time where Jester just put an axe through a dude's head.

The Mighty Demands : 1) to not be forced to go anywhere on the spot 2) they will not go back to Xhorhas supervised 3) they will not go until they see the beacon the Assembly claims to have 4) they want to know what the Empire and the Cerberus Assembly actually want, because if they doin't want something, what does that mean ? what's the logic ?... this line is not a hard line actually it's a paragraph by Caduceus 5) a 1000 platinum 6) the Empire should cover their incidentals at the hotel, come on ! 7) chocolate 8) armements, not almond mints 9) the Empire should not be alone in charge of the fane under the Cathedral of Pelor 10) pastries !

Oooooh, how I like how Caleb is lying to the Martinet about the Mighty Nein's journey into Xhorhas ! The best lies have some truth in them, and that is absolutely what he's doing, he's just twisting some details.

The Mighty Nein finally have a good idea for the neutral territory in which to hold peace talks, and that is : in the middle of the ocean, on their boat ! The Martinus Ludin'eth Deleth : "What's it called ?" The Mighty Nein, immediately realizing their mistake : "... It's called The Balleater."

Jester called Trent "Mr. Icky-Thong". POWER MOVE !!

WOOPS Nott tried to let the Beacon take her mind and grant her a re-roll, and Trent immediately guessed the Mighty Nein were familiar of how the beacon works. WOOPS. If he's intelligent (and he is many things but stupid is not one of them) I think he can now know what happened to the beacon lost in Zadash.

Love that the Mighty Nein are deflecting this line of questioning by being assholes about the tripod. Very MN behavior.

Obsessed, Obsessed I say ! with the way Jester is 1) aware of her cheerfull behavior and kindness 2) aware that she's not on the same level as "normal people" regarding said kindness and behavior 3) will USE KINDNESS AS A WEAPON or at least a means to an end. She really managed to distract the Martinet and Trent. i JUST !! love her so much. It takes courage, it takes spirit, it takes kindness and care to do that.

I love Caduceus, and I respect his "the truth will set you free" approach, and it has indeed worked very well with the Mighty Nein, because they were so used to being shifty motherfuckers, but ! In this instance, with the Assembly, inside of the political nest of vipes that is Rexxentrum, I trully think that proposing to tell the truth is a bad idea. The Mighty Nein needs to be shifty motherfuckers once again.

Did Marisha had the early idea for Laudna with this crazy cool shopkeeper character Matt put on ? I wouldn't bet money against it.

Fjord : "Well, if we're not going to Pride's Call, and we need to kill a few days in town... Should we enter a fighting tournament ?" Matt, forgetting his impartial role as the DM : "Yes !! FUCK YES !" Fjord : "Does such a thing exist in this town ?" Matt, still not impartial : "I can make one !" This is so rare too see of Matt that I laughed so much.

Dani : "This... mayb be the horniest episode of Talks Machina. And I've been keeping track !"

Sam trying to get answers out of Liam about Caleb and Eodwulf and Astrid's relationship is so fun. He tries and tries and tries but Liam wants the answers to fall naturally in the game.

#my thoughts #critical role #cr campaign 2 #CR2E88

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eurynome827-fic-roulette · 4 years ago

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For @the-ce-horniest-book-club 24 Hour Surprise Drabble Challenge - Conversations With A Stranger Drabbles! I'm using the prompt "school pickup" and turning it slightly on it's head - with an AU of Single Dad!Andy Barber (no DJ characters). All credit and love for this AU inspiration goes to the amazing @uncafeavecbarnes (and you should totally read her take on Single Dad!Andy)

No Warnings but my blogs are 18+ spaces always.

It's just you and one other man waiting outside the principal's office, and you have to keep reminding yourself to stop tapping your foot every time he glances up at you from his phone.

Finally he takes pity on your obviously agitated state and smiles a little before attempting to make conversation.

"I knew having a boy would probably mean visits to the principal, but kindergarten seems a little early."

You huff out a laugh, too out of your element to offer much more of a response. Still, he puts his phone in his suit jacket pocket, leaning forward towards you.

"Should we guess what they had a fight about?"

Your head snaps to him. "Excuse me?"

"Our kids. What do you think they fought about? That has to be why we're here, right? Our sons must have had a little playground disagreement."

You shake your head. "I have a daughter. Of course, I wouldn't put it past her to pick a fight with anyone."

He chuckles a little at your resigned expression. "Mine is a handful, too."

It's quiet for a moment, and then you don't know why, but you're confiding in this man sitting next to you in the elementary school principal's office. "I can't imagine how hard it is for her, with only me, and babysitters and my job and all that - I knew things would be hard but like you said, not so soon."

He had such an open expression, and he's listening to you intently. "I get it, I'm in that boat right with you."

You give him a tiny smile. "You too?"

His smile is wider, and he offers you a simple, firm handshake. "Andy Barber. I'm Adam's dad."

The light of recognition dawns in your eyes. "Wait, Adam's dad?"

Now it's Andy's turn to look confused until the principal's secretary pokes her head from the now open office door.

"Okay, Adam's dad and April's mom, we're ready for you."

Andy's face turns back to yours and the expression on his face shows you he is very aware of who your daughter is. "Excuse me, I didn't know I was meeting my son's future mother in law."

"Oh no, what did they do?"

You walk beside Andy into the principal's office, and he holds your chair for you as you sit opposite the big desk. The principal is a kindly looking older woman, and she waits for Andy to be seated before beginning. "Thank you both for being here. I realize that once you hear what the problem is you may think we overreacted."

"What exactly is the problem?" You can't stop yourself from asking, especially now that you know who's here with you.

"Adam's my boyfriend."

"Baby, you're five."

"So? We're getting married."

"Did they get married at recess or something?" Andy asks, completely serious, and you bite back a laugh. You kick him and he kicks you back, both of you barely holding it together.

"I see you're both aware of their attachment."

Attachment? Is this a Jane Austen movie? "I believe they have both mentioned each other outside of school, yes." You manage to say the words without laughing but this whole experience is becoming more and more funny to you.

"The children's teacher has requested that I meet with you, to ask you both to remind them how to behave in school."

"The hand holding? I talked to Adam."

"I had a talk with April about that too."

"It worked for a few days," the principal leans back in her chair. "But today they've moved on to kissing."

"Kissing? They're kissing each other in school?" Now you're a little surprised. Andy, however, chuckles beside you and shrugs when you turn to him.

"They were at the front of the lunch line together and held up recess for the other children because they refused to be separated."

You cover your face with your hands. "We will definitely have a strong conversation with them about appropriate behavior in school." You drop your hands and look over at Andy. "Right?"

"Of course." He still looks amused, and you can't help smiling back.

"Well," Andy says as he walks by your side, down the hallway to collect your kids, "it was nice to have someone else to share that amazing moment with."

You laugh out loud, looking around to make sure that no one else is in earshot. "Yeah, but we have to stop meeting like this."

"I hope we keep meeting, though."

Andy gives you a little sly look, and you look straight ahead as an odd feeling starts to bubble up inside you.

"Me too."

#hbc 24 hour surprise drabble challenge #hbc conversations with a stranger drabbles #andy barber #single dad!andy barber #divider by imerdwarf #single dad!andy x single mom!reader

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dying-suffering-french-stalkers · 3 years ago

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For the ship game: prime numbers for Lupin x Jigen!

HERE YOU GO GHOST, THIS WAS FIVE PAGES IN A GOOGLE DOC AND TOOK ME SEVERAL HOURS

Under a cut, allegedly, though mobile has been known to just IGNORE THAT. Sorry in advance if this gets goofed for anyone.

2) Who is always horny and will have sex at any time, in any place?

Lupin, obviously (and canonically). Just the horniest man you ever did see. Jigen knows what he wants and when he wants it, but he has difficulty keeping up with Don Juan Triumphant over there. Lupin is also far less picky about locations and times than Jigen is. Jigen still has a FEW standards, thank you, and also a stronger sense of self-preservation. Lupin sometimes tries to start shit in public or during a heist and Jigen is like “I REALLY, REALLY APPRECIATE THE SENTIMENT BUT CAN WE NOT.” The closest to public anything Jigen will put up with is bar bathroom/back-alley hookups, and he doesn’t really tend to do that with Lupin or Goemon since they have secondary locations far more suited to such activity (or at least the damn Fiat, if nothing else). That said, Jigen is a spiteful bastard and gets a huge kick out of riling Lupin up over the walkie-talkie during jobs. He is more than happy to get jumped by his boss after they make it out and secure the loot.

3) Who is more into taking showers/baths together? Who tries to make it relaxing and who tries to make it sexy time?

Honestly, while I can totally see Lupin and Jigen doing this with their other partners, I have a harder time imagining the two of them doing this together and I’m not sure why. I feel like these two on their own both like the privacy bathing gives them, whether it’s to clean wounds or decompress from a job.

On the occasions when they do bathe together, I feel like it’s an unspoken kind of thing, where the other person quietly slips in the tub/shower with them and they just don’t bother protesting. I think Lupin is more likely to join Jigen in his bathing, but if Jigen is sleepy enough or lonely enough he might do the same. There is a lot of mutual appreciation of scars. They’ve definitely smoked in the tub before (Intricate Rituals™). Lupin is probably more likely to get handsy, because Lupin, but two can play that game if Jigen is feeling it, and also Jigen gives Lupin a run for his money in the staring department. No hat to hide behind now.

Lupin has also 100% done the whole “Hey Jigen, do you know if—stop screaming, it’s me—do you know if we have any more instant dashi? Goemon’s gonna slice up the sofa if I ruin soba night again.”

5) Who sleeps on the couch when they get into a fight?

Jigen, but to be fair, he canonically sleeps on the couch most nights (possibly to keep an eye on the door, possibly because he knows that place, at least, is always “acceptable” for him to occupy). It’s an odd night if you don’t see Jigen out there with a glass and a bottle of scotch and an old movie on TV. The main difference is that if he and Lupin have been fighting, he won’t bother with the formality of a glass and the TV will be playing far louder or not at all.

7) [A] Who said “I love you” first? And [B] who ends their arguments in a fight with “Because I love you”?

I hate to take the coward’s way out here, but I think the answers are A) either one - depends on the headcanon/fic/version of the characters I’m feeling that day, and B) both.

For A, they’re both the sort of people to show their love—true love/affection, not just flirtation/infatuation, LUPIN—in action, not words. Lupin is a man of many words to a fault, generous with his verbal and physical affection, so Lupin has to find a way to make sure Jigen knows he means it and how he means it. He may rightly fear that Jigen won’t believe him (or else believe him but take it platonically) if he says “I love you” to his face, so first he’ll show him through every little action he can. Jigen is a man of few words to a fault, so saying personal stuff like that out loud is both a last resort and the point of no return. Getting him to say it at all, unambiguously, and while sober is like pulling teeth. Once one of them finally spits it out, though, I think the other is quick to reciprocate (again, if they manage to say it clearly and under good circumstances and not ambiguously/while drunk or wounded/etc. They’re both idiots and selective cowards so this is a big if). The mutual relief is palpable and immediately followed by sex, because they’re both (horny) idiots and selective cowards who do not want to talk about Emotions and Personal Things any more than strictly necessary.

For B, ohhhh man, if it isn’t that same emotional avoidance coming to bite them in the asses! Looks like talking about deep emotions is strictly necessary after all! You know it’s a Big Important Argument for them if this is what it comes to. This is going to tie in somewhat to the answers for 11, 17, and 23, so stay tuned. “Because I love you” coming from either of them should give the other pause, but if they are angry enough, they’re both quite likely to storm off after that declaration anyway. They’ll come back and have a real discussion later, but the shock or frustration of that arresting declaration dropped in the middle of an argument is something neither of them are great at dealing with. Hearing that from Jigen might be enough to stop Lupin in his tracks, but Lupin might also be so dead-set on something that he’ll steamroll right over it even if he knows he’ll regret it later. Hearing that from Lupin probably only makes Jigen angrier because of his awful self-esteem (see answers 11 and 23), and even if he’s been working on that, his instinct will be to snarl “Yeah, right” and storm out the door. I like to think that one day they are able to get to the heart of the argument sooner (because this is almost always it) and work on the behaviors that worry the other so much, but alas, they are a mess.

11) Who makes fun of the other for having a crush on them, and who has to remind them that they are in a relationship?

Once again, either of them depending on the day.

As you mentioned in your JiGoe post, Jigen says it partly because he thinks it’s funny (“You have a crush on me, Boss? Fuckin’ embarrassing”) but also because he’s fishing for validation. His self-esteem/confidence in anything outside his shooting skills is shit and he still can’t quite believe that Lupin isn’t lying/he hasn’t conned Lupin into something. This is rather overestimating his conning skills and underestimating his many good qualities, but, well, genuine, lasting affection is kinda new for him. Much to Jigen’s annoyance, Lupin figures out exactly what Jigen’s up to after the first few times and answers him seriously (and positively) instead of continuing the “joke��. Lupin loses patience for this particular tactic over time but I like to think that Jigen finally begins believing in the affection, too, so it comes up less and less and one day Jigen might actually play the quip straight without the self-deprecation. Ideally he would just take the damn compliment, but it’s LupJig and banter is one of their love languages.

When Lupin says it, he typically is playing the quip straight and fondly giving Jigen shit for showing an Emotion and motherFUCKER I just realized Jigen could probably be considered a tsundere. I hate this. ANYWAY. Jigen then immediately snarks back that yes, Lupin, considering we’ve been travelling the world together and actively fucking for X years, it’d be damn awkward if I didn’t by now.

13) Who initiates duets? and who is the better singer?

Lupin absolutely initiates duets, or rather, he tries to; whether or not Jigen actually chimes in is another matter entirely. Lupin is also the better singer by far (when he’s sober). He loves singing along to pop and rock in the car (“This is the reason God invented America!”).

Much as it would please me personally to give Jigen a smooth operatic baritone, there’s no way in hell he sounds good after smoking a pack a day for twenty-something years. I think Jigen can carry a tune and he’s a decent hummer and whistler, but his singing voice isn’t spectacular.

Lupin occasionally succeeds in getting Jigen to join him in car karaoke, though as in all things, Lupin is much louder and more impassioned. Jigen frequently hums along under his breath, though, and Lupin loves hearing Jigen’s a cappella renditions of classical music (complete with hand motions).

When Queen starts becoming popular, car singalongs become much more involved because it’s MY silly headcanon and You Are Not Immune To Queen. Jigen cried the first time he heard “Bohemian Rhapsody” and he will kill Lupin if he ever tells Goemon or, God forbid, Fujiko. When the four of them are in the car it’s a full-on Wayne’s World headbanging party. (Pops is the drunk guy they pick up along the way. Also, seeing Payless Shoe Source in this clip dealt me psychic damage.)

Lupin and Jigen (and Goemon) are the living embodiment of the drunk friends singing “Sweet Caroline” post, and Jigen is specifically this version of “Sweet Caroline”.

17) Who is more protective?

THAT IS THE QUESTION, HUH, GHOST? Jigen’s job and, to a certain degree, raison d’être is protecting Lupin, but (to cheat slightly and quote your own DM to me), if you think Lupin won’t raze everything to the ground to keep Jigen (and the others) safe, you don’t know him at all. They are this meme to the deepest of faults. They are both so desperately afraid of losing what they have (and in Lupin’s case, this is tinged with a bonus, even more concerning “what is his”) that they will go full self-sacrificing, scorched-earth policy. This is, in fact, my favorite reason for Lupin to do the worst thing he does: fake his own death to protect his partners. Lupin never stops to think that maybe, JUST MAYBE, he should trust his partners to fake grief and keep the secret long enough for whoever’s on their tail to give up or let their guard slip. Lupin is willing to hurt them in an effort to protect them, so in that way, I suppose Lupin is the “most” “protective”. Jigen’s self-abasement to the point of unhesitating and perhaps even hasty sacrifice is painful, too, but Jigen would never dare go to the same level of deception (except in Goodbye, Partner, apparently? But 1) I haven’t watched it yet and 2) while awful, I still feel like fake betrayal pales in comparison to very convincingly (AND MAYBE REPEATEDLY) faked death).

19) Who drives and who has the window seat?

They split driving duties, but Lupin genuinely loves driving and Jigen is more than happy to prop his feet on the Fiat’s dashboard and smoke or sleep the hours away.

23) Who thinks they are not good enough for the other’s love? and who’s more afraid of losing the other? Who thinks they keep messing up, only for the other to tell them they don’t need to worry?

HERE WE GO AGAIN!!! I think the answer to all of these is ultimately Jigen, but that’s not to say Lupin doesn’t share the exact same worries.

Jigen has a very difficult time believing that his partners’ love is genuine, and since Lupin is the one he knew first, that’s where it first manifests. Jigen has had very, very few good romantic connections in his life (if any). He doesn’t know what Lupin could possibly see in an older, prickly hired killer with a drinking problem and a head full of demons. He’s willing to believe that Lupin keeps him around for his skills, for protection, and for sex, sure, but anything past that? Doubtful. This ties into the other two parts of the question: Jigen is afraid that if he fails in his sharpshooting or his protection, he will be cut out of the gang, or worse, Lupin will end up dead because Jigen slipped up. As mentioned in question 17, Jigen cannot bear to lose Lupin and he would never forgive himself if he believed it was somehow his fault. Accordingly, Jigen takes “failure” that exceeds his usual margin of error very seriously in the early days. Later, he is better about this, but the worst-case scenario still stands.

Lupin, on the other hand, has had plenty of romantic connections, some good, some bad, though it is perhaps telling that Fujiko is his longest romantic relationship other than Jigen. He is afraid that if he doesn’t put on the world’s greatest show at all times, no one will give a rat’s ass about some scrawny grandson of an old French thief (or the perhaps unwanted/disliked son of a ruthless crime lord, because I love that fanon for Lupin the Second). He must live up to and indeed surpass the previous Lupins, he must shower his partners in money and adventure, he must always, always come out on top no matter how south the plan goes, or else what is the point of him? It takes time for him to turn his persona off for more than a few seconds, to let the quieter, sometimes contemplative side that slips through the cracks come to rest out in the open. Years down the road, Jigen finally gets up the courage and the words to tell Lupin that he would love him no matter what he did or where he went, even if that was nothing and nowhere. And again, see question 17 re: losing Jigen.

29) Who does some crazy stunt to try and impress the other and who ends up driving them to the emergency room after it backfires?

Lupin is by far the most guilty of this. He’s constantly pulling dumb shit, whether that be for World-Renowned Gentleman Thief reasons or just He May Be Stupid reasons. Case in point: the tunnel scene in The First, after which Jigen was duly impressed. Fortunately for Lupin, Lady Luck must be head over heels for him because the bastard keeps surviving, but sometimes even she can’t save him from medical consequences. Jigen bulk-ordered “Stupid Hurts” band-aids specifically for Lupin. Jigen’s bad choices are more likely to literally backfire on him, but Goemon more than makes up for Jigen’s slack in the Crazy Stunt department.

#I CARE THEY #hope this is comprehensible bc i honestly cannot tell #i have many thoughts on these two human disasters #lupin iii #jigen #asks #the-golden-ghost #long post #meta #I GUESS #can you believe i wrote five pages of meta about 1970s comedy anime characters? fucking hell. i love this fandom.#ship meme

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the-darklings · 4 years ago

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who is jean?

(drags out a rusty chair) (sits)

buckle up, gang. we're about to do French Bastard Baguette 101

basics first.

name: Jean Laurent

where does he hail from: French baguette

what does he look like:

whose house should you egg when Jean inevitably hurts your feelings: @la-gattara-art

what’s he like?

(let me preface everything by saying that Jean’s personality, looks, and past were not created by me; he was originally constructed by Chan (NPFH co-creator and my very segssy friend tagged above) and I simply went free real estate ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

okay, so:

bastard™. most call him “the spider” - both as a warning and as a curse. will sell you to satan for one cornchip. will also destroy you and your life if you get in his way : ) ruthless. manipulative. terrifyingly good at people and can charm pretty much anyone. has dirt on everyone and is brilliant at sniffing out weaknesses. is he lying? is he being honest? who knows? certainly not me. smoker. the living embodiment of the phrase “who we are and who we need to be to survive are two very different things”. has a heart deep, deep, deep down but good luck finding it. seductive. to be frank, the man fucks - that’s it, no fancy words. he knows what’s good and how to get it so his bed is warm most nights, no emotional connections though. likes sketching into his pocketbook : ) mostly birds/still life/architecture. speaking of which, admires architecture openly, and has a taste for art/historical things as well. mind sharper than a knife, tongue even more so 🤪 uses his accent on purpose as well. has a massive sweet tooth. is haunted by past actions. knows the price for “rebirth”. still has night terrors occasionally. ambitious for days. has an expensive taste because he knows the value of such things. enjoys old french songs. is an excellent dancer and is very happy to show just how good 😌 if he so much as sniffs out that someone is getting too comfortable beside him or is developing some sort of attachment to him, removes said attachment with surgical precision and weaponises everything he knows. can be downright vicious in that regard. prefers using words and seductions as oppose to fistfights but can hold his own if needs be. prefers guns - nice and quick. you will not know where his loyalties are until the last second. has a giddy, near boyish appreciation for sports cars but lacks technical knowledge when it comes to them, so don’t expect him to be changing oil any time soon. don’t bother trying to embarrass him, either - you can’t. he has no shame, especially if it comes to the bedroom. has a wicked sense of humour and enjoys few things more than a verbal challenge. enjoys challenges in general. if it's dangerous, he wants to poke it and see just how dangerous. he also works for someone else. will lay it all on the line for someone else but only once.

so what’s his role and why is he important?

jean is one of the main, catalyst characters in npfh (no place for heroes) an original universe where we hope to create an interactive modern-day, criminal world in "novel" form. where you, as a reader, play a key role and your decisions affect the story. the first prequel (like jeara's backstory) will be in normal novel format. formation of the pit of vipers aka where elites, lucien, amongst other new OCs will appear will follow that. so the running order is: fwns, tpov, npfh.

after COA gets concluded, I will be full-time working on this world. lowkey already am but that's because creativity is flowing and who am I to say no? so jean meets clara beginning of fwns (fire with no smoke - first prequel title) and for those of you who don't know clara is oc!v from my JW series Children of Ares. you will not have needed to read that story to enjoy this work because everything about JW is being removed and clara's backstory is going to be introduced anew and might be familiar to those of you who have read Gasoline Girl because it was wholly original. camorra is also staying. short version: something has happened to clara a year ago; a terrible, awful sort of trauma that has left her near crippled with the inability to deal with it (some may know what I'm referring to and it's that but x 10 worse :D). however in a world as cutthroat as npfh no falters are allowed. so teetering-at-the-edge-of-oblivion assassin meets master information gatherer because he hires her for a few "removal jobs" ("oh, you're a poisoner? sneaky, sexy, I love it.") because he's feeling out new york city for his boss and gathering information on X & Y. one thing leads to another, and those two end up needing to work together when they accidentally uncover a plan to paint streets of NY red and overthrow the old order. big time ("guess I have no choice but to trust and rely on you now because we're both being hunted,,, damn fine, just don't fall in love with me." 🙄 )

essentially to sum this story up I will say:

slowburn. reluctant partners in crime. banter. angst central. mystery. high stakes. dark. power couple when they're not trying to verbally end one another. sexual tension so thick most knives will not cut it. bi main character. mutual emotional baggage aha <3 it's mature (and yes that means there will be smut but it's been 84 years by the time we get there). at its core though, it's very much a story about healing & remembering what it is to be alive & not just existing in a role that's expected of you, nor does your past define you.

basically:

reasons to like Jean: Clara

reasons to dislike Jean: Clara

but,,, Jeara?

yes ♥️

(I don’t know how to make gifs so enjoy potato quality <3)

here's fwns board for more vibes/jean aes too (x)

and here's my horniest playlist for them (x)

and finally, jean in memes, courtesy of coa discord:

and my personal fave

thus concludes french bastard baguette 101. have a good day and eat baguettes xoxo

#I HAD WAY TOO MUCH FUN MAKING THIS SJDKHGDSJGH #thank you very much for asking anon!!! i would be happy to answer any questions anyone has. also been writing for them lots so #expect more of him and them is the takeaway here ig #oc intro #c: jean #asks #anon

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treason-and-plot · 4 years ago

Photo

"This is all very quaint, isn't it?" says Liam, after they have ordered their food. "I feel I should be wearing a cardigan. And I'm kind of embarrassed that we didn't arrive here on a vintage tandem bicycle, with a basket filled with mushrooms balanced on the handle bars." “Right?” says Saffron. "Would you like me to pour the tea? Or would you prefer to order coffee?" "Tea's fine," says Liam. "One lump or two?" says Saffron. "None, thank you," says Liam. "Because you're sweet enough," smirks Saffron. "Ha ha," says Liam. "You actually are a pretty nice person, though," says Saffron. "I think that's the most complimentary thing you've ever said to me," says Liam. "I'm touched-" "You’re a nice person for someone who's a cheating arsehole, I mean," says Saffron. "Like, you're a bit of an enigma, aren’t you?" "Things are rarely black and white, Saffy," says Liam. "Which you would know, if you're going to be a successful lawyer. Sometimes people do bad things. That doesn’t make them bad people."

Saffron considers this as she sips her tea. It's strong and slightly smoky, like it's been brewed over the fire.

"So, by the same logic, someone who hits their partner isn't really a bad person either?" she says. "They just do bad things?" "No, that's not what I'm saying at all," says Liam. "Anyway, let’s not talk about unpleasant things. I just want to enjoy being here with you.” "Man, you are such a wuss," says Saffron.

The waitress brings their food. Saffron's blueberry cobbler is sweet and satisfying, and Liam declares his pumpkin pie to be delicious. He asks Saffron what her favourite dish is. Saffron says anything that her mother hasn’t cooked, and amuses Liam by describing some of Anita’s greatest cooking disasters. After they have finished eating Saffron pours more tea. She realises she is enjoying herself. Liam clears his throat

"I want to show you another poem I wrote,” he says. “I submitted it to a literary website and they actually published it. It's about you, of course."

He finds the website on his phone and passes it to Saffron.

“It says the author is someone called Samuel O'Riordan,” she says.

"That's my alias," says Liam. "I couldn't risk anyone I know finding my poetry on the internet. It's pretty obvious this poem wasn’t written about Ste- my wife."

Saffron arches an eyebrow. She begins to read. Liam gulps his tea.

I yearn for your mouth, your skin, your throat, your scorn. Crazy with hunger and thirst, I stalk the corridors. I am desperate for your mocking laugh, your eyes the colour of a stormy sky, your thighs like warmed ivory...

There are several more paragraphs, each one increasing in urgency. By the time she has finished her face is flushed, and a wanton need is pulsing through her veins. She drops his phone on the table. Liam looks at her with round-eyed apprehension.

“W- what did you think?” he says. "I think Samuel O'Riordan needs to take me to an old deserted barn or someplace and have his wicked way with me,” she says. “Because that was one of the hottest, sexiest, horniest and most beautiful poems I have ever read.”

#Saffron #Liam #liam mcfarlane #5 years later #Sims story #Sims Stories #sims storytelling #simblrstories #sims 3

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jobean12-blog · 5 years ago

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Just like Heaven

Pairings: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1,641

Summary: Bucky beard is a beautiful distratction when he catches you rockin’ out to 80s music.

Author’s Note: This is for the HBC’s @the-ss-horniest-book-club continuation of drunk drabbles and the amazing prompt sent in below (that was literally written for me because BEARD!) and Music Era Monday! I was listening to my 80s playlist the whole time I wrote this and I still can’t stop smiling. I hope you enjoy this and it makes you smile! Thank you all for reading and much love always! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Fluffy fun, lots of singing, awesome 80s music, A TRUE LOVE FOR BUCKY’S BEARD! 😁

Bucky stands at your door, knocking for a second time. He can hear your very loud music and knows you most likely can’t hear him knocking. Your singing rings out over the music and he chuckles, giving the door one more hard knock before opening it up.

“She drives me crazy; I can’t help myself…” Your body moves in rhythm to the music, your hand grasping an incredibly old wooden spoon as you belt out the lyrics. Your ponytail is swinging back and forth while your head bops and your socked feet slide across the floor. “I can’t get any rest; people say I’m obsessed.” You haven’t looked up in who knows how long, shaking your hips as you move across the kitchen.

“AHHHHHHHHHHH!” You let out a shrill scream when your back hits something hard, spinning so fast you whip Bucky with your hair and throw the spoon in his face. His very hairy face. “Oh Bucky! HOLY CRAP! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear or see you and then you were just there.” You’re yelling over the music, eyes wide.

Your focus moves back to very fluffy looking beard he has going on and you find your thoughts wandering. “Can we lower the music, doll?” Your eyes shoot back to his, your forehead creasing in confusion. “What?” Bucky just smiles and walks around you, hitting the power button on your speakers.

“I said. Can we lower the music?” he laughs. “Oh, yea, of course, thanks for shutting it, I couldn’t hear a damn thing.” Giving you a very “duh” look he holds up your wooden spoon. “Great mic! I think it might be older than me.” You stalk over and take it from his hand, “oh shut up. You mean you never sang into a spoon when you were little?”

Bucky watches your eyes flick back down to his beard. “Something on my face, doll?” Your cheeks warm and you pretend to fix your socks. “No, no. Um, anyway. Did you need me?” Bucky looks like he wants to say more but instead asks, “what were you listening to? It’s really fun!” Your whole face brightens as you grab your phone and show him your 80s playlist. “It’s all music from the 1980s and it is really fun! I’m glad you like it!”

He scrolls through your phone, stopping at ‘Take on Me.’ “There is a band with the name ‘A-ha’?” he questions, making a funny face at your phone. You take the moment to study his face again, his dark beard covering most of his cheeks, your fingers itching to touch it. “I wanna hear this one,” he says, pressing play and handing you back your phone.

Your eyes flick to his beard one last time before the synthesized piano kicks in. Bucky smiles, tapping his foot to the music. You start singing, once again dancing around your room. Bucky takes your hand and twirls you. “Woooooo! Today's another day to find you shying away, I'll be coming for your love, okay?” You sing into your spoon much to Bucky’s amusement and delight.

He pulls you into his chest, circling one arm around your waist while his metal hand holds yours. “Oh my gosh, Buck, this is like the waltz. Not at all for the 80’s!” You laugh and throw your arms around his neck. “What am I supposed to do then, huh? You show me,” he asks before picking you up and spinning around. Your laughter rises over the music as you cling to him. “Not this either but it’s so fun!”

When he finally puts you down the next song has started, and you start to jump in happiness but quickly stumble from dizziness. “Woah, doll.” Bucky catches you in his arms, “sorry. Too many spins, huh?” You giggle and right yourself, your face now awfully close to his. Your hand inches up his chest and just as you’re about to stroke his beard you hear Steve’s voice over the AI.

“Bucky, what the hell. We were supposed to go for a run 20 minutes ago!” Bucky lets out an exasperated sigh. “All we do is run!” You laugh and go to lower the music again. “Did you need something?” Bucky’s phone buzzes and he picks it up, shouting into it, “I’m coming Steve, one sec!” He abruptly hangs up and smiles, “yeah actually. Do you have headphones I can borrow? I hate running without music and I can’t find mine anywhere.”

“Sure! I can send you my 80s playlist too, if you want, so you can give it a listen on your run?” He steals the spoon from your hand, saying, “only if I can bring this to sing.” Rolling your eyes you take his phone, setting up the playlist and handing him the headphones.

“All set! Enjoy your run. And gimme back my mic!” Holding out your hand you wait until he gives it back, running over and turning the volume back up. “Won’t you come see about me, I’ll be alone dancing, you know it baby” You give him a wave as he walks to the door, smiling the whole time. “See you later, doll.” Flipping your hair around you sing to him, “don’t you forget about me.”

With one final laugh he shuts the door and you put down your spoon. Leaning against the counter you take a long drink of water, your thoughts drifting back to how good he looks with the beard. “Shit,” you mutter, just as “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun,” starts to play.

Later that night you head to the common room, excited to find it empty. You plug in your phone, scrolling through your 80s playlist. You’ve been listening to it all day, loving it even more now that you shared it with Bucky. You decide on ‘Invisible Touch’ by Genesis and head to the kitchen. Since you don’t have your wooden spoon handy you grab one of Tony’s fancy spatulas, one you’re sure he’s never actually used before.

“And now it seems I’m falling, falling for her. She seems to have an invisible touch.” You whip around like Allison in The Breakfast Club, throwing your hands up. Wiggling over to the fridge you start pulling out the necessities for a sandwich. “Hey, wanna make me one while you’re at it?” You feel his presence more than hear his question, whipping around to find Bucky standing at the island.

Dancing over you lean into him, “did you say something?” He takes your phone and lowers the volume, smirking when he sees your playlist. “Invisible Touch, huh? I really like that one. The lyrics to these songs are great. I’ve been listening to your playlist nonstop today!” You squeal in happiness! “That’s awesome Bucky. I’m glad you’re enjoying it. And what did you say before?”

“Oh yea, do you mind making me a sandwich since you’re making one?” Picking up your spatula mic you dance back to the counter. “Not at all. Ham, cheese and mayo, right?” He gives you a thumbs up, turning the volume louder. ‘Hungry like the Wolf’ comes on and you give a loud whoop. “I LOVE THIS ONE!”

“Dark in the city, night is a wire,” you sing into your spatula. Bucky grabs a whisk and starts singing along, “woman, you want me, give me a sign. And catch my breathing even closer behind.” You can’t stop smiling as you sing together, the music moving through your body like the very blood in your veins.

When the song ends you finish up the sandwiches, placing Bucky’s down in front of him. “Let’s eat!” He grabs the sandwich and holds it up to his mouth but not before saying, “good, because I’m hungry like the wolf.” You almost spit out your bite at his corny line, grabbing your water to take a drink. “Wow, I’ve converted you in one day! Awesome!”

You eat while listening to Heart’s ‘These Dreams.’ You notice Bucky has some mayo on his beard. Reaching over the island you brush your thumb over the soft hair, your mouth parting at the contact. “There’s still more.” His tongue darts out to lick it off but he doesn’t get it all. “Gone?” he asks, his voice suddenly much deeper.

Shaking your head, you swipe your thumb over the spot once more, this time getting it all. You close your mouth to stop the moan that almost escapes and your thighs clench together as your mind once again races with thoughts of how good his beard would feel on your body. “Doll?” His voice pulls you from your thoughts and you sit down with a plop. ‘Crazy for You,’ comes on and Bucky’s eyes sparkle.

He rounds the island and gently picks you up off the stool, taking you in his arms and holding you close. “It’s all brand new, I’m crazy for you.” You laugh, loving that he already knows some of the lyrics. “So, am I crazy or are you a big fan of the beard?” You suck in a breath, surprised and a little embarrassed that he picked up on your (all too obvious) weakness over his facial hair.

“Soon we two are standing still in time. If you read my mind, you'll see, I’m crazy for you.” You sing the words quietly, hoping your meaning gets across. Bucky gets the message. His lips meet yours, softly at first and the light brush of his beard over your soft skin makes you moan into his mouth. ‘I'm crazy for you. Touch me once and you'll know it's true, I never wanted anyone like this. It's all brand new. You'll feel it in my…’ The lyrics fade away just as Bucky’s hand cradles the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer to deepen the kiss and it feels just like heaven.

@aesthetical-bucky @auro-ora @azurika-writes @book-dragon-13 @buckys-broody-muffin @bugsbucky @bucky-on-my-mind @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @hailmary-yramliah @hawksmagnolia @ikaris-whore @itsunclebucky @imgaril-lindru @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876�� @loricameback @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @mushyjellybeans @marvelandotherfandomimagines @marvelgirl7 @nano--raptor @nerdypinupcrystal @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @the-wayward-robot

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #beard kink #80s music #1980s music #sebastian stan #marvel #hbc drunk drabbles #hbc music eras monday #ladies of the hbc

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jewels2876 · 3 years ago

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Always. - A LOKI finale synopsis

So I thought I could write something magical or be inspired by the Loki finale for @the-th-horniest-book-club as it's their last day of celebration.

And it hit me. I can't.

Here's what I can do: dissect this episode down to its heartbreaking ending because at the end I still have a million questions and it's gonna take a cartoon What If?, a Spiderman movie, maybe a Hawkeye show?, and a Dr. Strange movie to answer them all and I'll STILL have questions after that.

Consider for just a moment what happened to 2012 Loki when the TVA captured him way back in Episode One - what the hell did removing Loki do to the MCU timeline? Thor: The Dark World never happened. And no I don't mean you can pretend Marvel put it out there because they did, and it's one of the worst Marvel movies, there I said it. But if TWD didn't happen, what else could have been affected?

And with that disturbing thought we begin...

The opening credits HAVE AUDIO! Every tag line uttered as the characters flash on the screen, EVEN LOKI gets his "We have a Hulk" in. It is awesome; it is glorious; it is expected with EVERY Marvel creation going forward.

Loki and Sylvie should know better than to stare at a door; they always seem to open on their own when that happens. Miss Minutes pops up out of nowhere, scaring the bejesus out of 70% of people, the other 30% wanted to see her one last time. And she's not the same Miss Minutes we first met. She's edgy, she's less peppy, and she gives our duo an offer. Honestly, she should have known the result but 🤷🏻‍♀️

Ravonna is doing something in her office; if she's cleaning it's a piss poor job. Miss Minutes shows up and tells Ravonna she gave her what she needs. Ominous.

Back to Loki and Sylvie who finally meet "He Who Remains." Now we all know guys with names like "He Who Must Not Be Named" are bad news. Guys, to answer the question asked in the show, I'm a little disappointed. The disappointment lasts about five seconds... The office they get transported to reminds me IMMEDIATELY of a certain movie and certain buildings we've seen before (insert duh at this point because you too have seen every Marvel movie ever.)

****** Side note: anyone know if Tom takes his tea with only two sugars? No? Yes? Okay getting back to other things ******

At this point, we get back to Ravonna and her lack of cleaning when Mobius shows up with the pruner (it has to have a cooler name! side side note: nope just glowing batons) and we get a nice little flashback to Original Ravonna (maybe?)

****** 2nd side note: since when did everyone who's not a Russo brother start using OHIO for origin stories? Seriously, go watch Black Widow. I'll wait.******

Now back to Loki, Sylvie, and He Who Remains, hereto known as HWR, who pulls the same trick we saw in the first episode with the "read and sign" guy with the adorable kitten. HWR needs a kitten, a pet at the very least. "You can't get to the end until you've been changed by the journey." HWR s is winding up for a pitch and also summarizes the show too. Loki asks if it's a manipulation; HWR finds the word interesting and I do to. Here's why:

Odin manipulated Loki's abandonment to his advantage

Thanos put Loki under mind control and used him

This is the 2012 Loki as a reminder, so he hasn't been subjected to imprisonment on Asgard or the brotherly banter/squabbles he and Thor have escaping Asgard, nor “Get help” from Ragnarok so it should come as no shock that Loki looks angry. After all, Odin and Thanos kind of killed any hope in Loki of feeling wanted or needed. Aren’t father figures supposed to instill hope, instead of disgust? Yeah, I can answer that one but that’d be an entire other post.

Now we’re back to Ravonna and Mobius and they spat over who was more betrayed - news flash: it was Mobius. But Ravonna has to do for the digs. “Those variants?” “You threw it away for a couple of Lokis.” Mobius tries to reason with Ravonna, sounding exactly like Glenda and Elphaba from Wicked (his “together” is spot on Glenda!) Ravonna opens a portal looking for “free will” after giving Mobius one last beatdown.

And we’re back to Loki, Sylvie and HWR. HWR gives them a bit of his backstory; I have a suspicion he’s glossed over some of it (he admits being called a conqueror for cryin’ out loud!) He has a maniacal moment, standing on his desk, voice getting a little shrill and thin. He also admits he’s probably the saner of his variants (my words not his.) Then after his real-man-behind-the-curtain routine he makes them an offer. Take his place. Loki, who has been remarkably non verbal, asks why HWR would give up control. Good question from the guy who wants to be in control yet was meant to thrive on chaos he creates. If anyone is keeping score, questions have been asked but not a single ANSWER has been given! Sylvie isn’t believing a single word while our Loki’s wheels are turning.

****** 3rd side note: the acting has been PHENOMENAL this entire series. Forget what Marvel promised and didn’t deliver (fluid Loki) and a scene we’ll be getting to, Tom and company have been nothing short of an Emmy, which I expect next year.******

HWR finally gets fed up with Sylvie and tells her to grow up. Because she took her pruning personally. Now I’m not going to say she shouldn’t be upset about her pruning; Marvel made it A POINT of showing her playing, content on Asgard, when they took her. But HWR has a point. He’s offering an option that allows Loki and Sylvie to do whatever they feel is best and it’s the wrong time for Sylvie to get in her feelings. Of course 99% of us know that’s EXACTLY when feelings choose to surface.

Then something happens - we don’t know who or what did it. Was it Ravonna and her leaving? Did Ravonna meet someone we suspect? Was it Mobius? Miss Minutes? The agents? We may never know exactly but now HWR is actually in the dark. Mr. Know-It-All suddenly doesn’t know it all.

Sylvie thinks she has her opportunity to fulfil her quest but it’s our Loki who protects HWR. Loki doesn’t tell her she’s wrong or right, just to stop and THINK. And now we get a glimpse of 2018 Loki:

See the bigger picture

Let’s talk about it

I believe HWR

What fills the void of a dictator?

What if we unleash something worse than HWR?

Now here’s where Marvel gets an B+ in character development. They took the 2012 Loki hell bent on destroying Earth to rule it and gave him just enough growth to become the 2018 redeemed Loki ODINSON, willing to sacrifice himself to Thanos (even if he did think he wouldn’t die.) It’s not a perfect arc by any means, but Marvel got there and this is one thing I applaud.

Sylvie now thinks Loki is lying to her to get to a throne and is clearly upset they are not seeing eye to eye on this and another point to Marvel. Loki, for only seeing a few videos that Mobius showed him, still has more life experience in his SINGULAR moment with Thanos to know that there is ALWAYS something bigger, badder, WORSE around the corner and he does NOT want to make the wrong decision. Wow.

To trust or not to trust.

It’s a beautiful sword fight that HWR sits back and watches like it’s ESPN. The lighting is gorgeous behind the action and is leading up to my next OMG moment: STOP.

Loki asks Sylvie to stop, almost like a child. Like someone who knows exactly where the fight leads, where it goes, and where it ends. And he says as much to her as well. Sylvie feels like that person who just wants the fight to be over; she hunches into Tom’s space and the lighting suddenly stays green and blue. Guess who’s green? Guess who is blue?

This goes back to my Emmy mention. Even if it’s ONLY for technical work, it’s so deserving. Sylvie, in green, tired, emotional, struggling with something we aren’t supposed to know just yet. Loki, in blue, almost as if his Jotun form has taken over, strong, sensible, relatable, empathetic.

And then that damn kiss! Marvel missed another opportunity here. Two Lokis had the opportunity to show self-love, familial love, friendly love, ANYTHING BUT A DAMN KISS!!! I’m not saying they couldn’t have feelings for each other, but it NEVER has to be romantic just because it’s a guy and a girl. **dramatic sigh goes here**

Sylvie pushes Loki through a portal she has opened, then turns to stab HWR through the chest, as he predicted. HWR actually chuckles, which makes me wonder if he expected this exact turn of events. As if we’ll ever know for sure.

Of course the timeline is going nebular and we’re treated to a shot back to the TVA. Mobius and B-15 exchange words as they watch the timelines grow and grow. Loki is sitting on a couch at the TVA and decides he’s not done? You’re supposed to guess the motivation because everything seems normal at the TVA. Loki finds Mobius and B-15 and admits to everything. Loki calling HWR terrifying is terrifying all on is own. And this of course is where it ends.

The post credit scene is just a “Loki returns in Season Two.”

Guys, this season was a mixed bag. There was some good, there was some not so good; there were laughs and a couple of tears. But it also has me SO HYPED for what’s to come. More Loki, more Marvel content, more... everything, I hope!

#loki spoilers #loki tv spoilers #loki #sylvie

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that-damn-girl · 5 years ago

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Our Pup

(Drabble) - Sequel link at end (not continuation; just in the same universe).

Pairing: Protective!Dad!Alpha!Bucky x (cis/trans)Female!Omega!Reader (long, I know)

Words: 900+

Type: A/B/O AU, Fluff, protective dad, PRIDE supportive parents.

Summary: You and Bucky discuss about supporting your daughter no matter what she decides. Bucky isn’t overly fond of Riley (Sam’s kid) or Sarah (Steve’s kid) at the moment.

Warning: A couple of bad words.

A/N: This is for @the-ss-horniest-book-club ‘s HBC 24 Hour Surprise Drabble Challange: AUs. This isn't what normal a/b/o AUs are about. It focuses more on your daughter than you. Hope you like it though.

Calm and serene, you sat on your couch, looking at the baking show on. You were no baker yourself. Didn't mean you couldn't watch people fret over those beautiful and delicious pieces of art.

You heard footsteps descending down the stairs. Craning your head backwards, you asked your husband, "She asleep?"

"Yeah. Out like a log."

He sat down on the couch beside you with his back to the armrest. He took your arms lovingly and gently tugged, urging you to sit on his lap the way you were, so you could watch on the TV whatever you wanted and he could watch whatever he wanted - you, uninterrupted. Having come back from a week long mission just hours ago, he wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms.

Eyes ahead, you placed your head in the crook of his neck, scenting him. He rest his head atop yours and clutched you tighter, "Missed you, Y/N. Missed you so damn much, my 'Mega."

You curled into him more, tempting his warmth to envelope you, "We missed you too, Bucky." You kissed the base of his neck lightly.

"Did you know, our baby girl and Riley are doing really well for their dance performance for Steve's birthday. They've both got a knack for dancing. And they've become really good friends too." You said, smiling gleefully.

"That's good. It's good." He said with a nonchalant voice. You looked up at him, knowing he'd got something else on his mind too.

"Aren't you proud, honey? Rebecca's taking after you in that regard?" You looked at him with your lovey dovey eyes.

"No, no, of course sweetheart, I am very proud of her. It's just that..." With furrowed eyebrows, he proceeded, "Sam's kid better keep his hands to dancing only, or I swear I'm gonna skin both his and Sam's asses." He looked dead serious about it.

"Bucky! They're five!" He shrugged.

"Nobody messes with my baby girls." His hold got somehow even tighter.

"Careful, Alpha. If I hear my baby girl speak that language, you bet I'm gonna skin your ass." You mustered up a bad bitch look. He apologized sheepishly.

Letting a few moments pass, you continued, "They make pretty good partners though." You shrugged.

He rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, "Would you stop playing matchmaker? Y/N! She's five!" He mimicked you. You hit his arm. Unfazed, he said, "I don't ever want to think about anyone whisking away my princess."

You rolled your eyes too, "I didn't mean it that way, Alpha. It's like - they are just good together. They get along. They make a good team together. Just like her and Sarah." You paused, "Those three are gonna be just like you three."

Bucky beamed with a little pride and a little love, "You think so?"

You hummed. After a pause, you said, "They can really be a thing though."

Bucky hid his face in your neck and groaned, "Oh my god, 'Mega! I am an old man. Please stop making my heart give out with all these suggestions."

You laughed, "Oh, Alpha!" You kissed his head, "Don't worry. Our princess is safe as long as she has us."

That gave him some relief. He mumbled, "Yeah, you're right."

"However," you started, making him groan again, "Her and Sarah could be a thing too."

He pulled back a little to look at you, "What?" He sounded about as clueless as Steve talking to women still.

"I mean, they could be as platonic as you and Steve, sure," You bit your lip, "But there's also a chance that they won't be."

"What?" Bucky repeated, even more dumbfounded.

You let out a sigh, "Rebecca might be into girls, Bucky. She might discover that when she's a teenager. She might only be straight too. Or bisexual, maybe." You shrugged, "I am just saying that it could be a possibility."

Bucky looked at his lap, which was covered by yours, and thought. After a long moment he said, "Okay..."

"Hey, Bucky," You cupped his cheeks and made him look at you, "I know this wasn't the norm in your time. I understand you may have difficulty adjusting to it." You continued with a soft voice, "I just wanna know, will you support our daughter no matter what?

He narrowed his eyes at you, "Do you think I am an asshole?" He brought you closer to him, "Of course I'll support her no matter what. I just didn't consider it before. She's our daughter, doll. I'll always love her, no matter who she loves. She will always be my pup, my princess."

"Me too." You hugged him closer.

"And I'll break anyone's teeth who doesn't support her." He said, dead serious again.

You laughed, "You do that, while I kick their knees."

"I just don't want to think about my daughter leaving me and going to someone else, boy or girl." He sounded sad.

You smiled, "Aw Alpha, she'll always be our baby. There's still some time before she gets to dating."

He sounded horrified, "Some?! Doll, there's a lot of time before she even gets close to it." He mutters something about not letting her date until she was well over thirty.

You laughed again, "My big bad Alpha is scared?"

He nodded like a pup, holding you closer than ever before.

The next day when Bucky saw both Sarah and Riley, who although Bucky adored to the moon and back, his face said - 'Don't either of you ever dare take my princess away from me. She's your best pal, that's it. Not your best gal. Will never be. Both of you better keep your hands to yourself.'

Unnoticed by anyone else, both of them unknowingly burned under Bucky's gaze hard for the upcoming days.

~~~

Our Love - Rebecca, Riley and Sarah get to hear a bedtime story, to which they have their own inputs to add.

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prurientpuddlejumper · 5 years ago

Text

A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 7 [18+]

<- Chapter 6 | Chapter 8 ->

Summary: The horniest chapter yet. And the beginning of the end.

Over the next few weeks, your arrangement works out smoothly—or it seems to, anyway. The creature remains hidden in the hayloft, undiscovered. As often as you are able, you are down in the barn with him, lying in his arms, sharing books and stories, or listening to the low, raspy panting of his breath in your ear and feeling the roughness of his hands on your bare skin.

Sometimes you cry together, frustrated and isolated, wishing the world you lived in was kinder, gentler.

And sometimes you dare to ramble in the woods, breathing the spring air and the changing harmony of scents of each new crop of flowers brings, listening to bird songs, and trusting in the solitude of the forest to protect you from prying eyes.

Every day his wound heals a little more. The bone-shattering gun blast which would have taken a regular human months to recover from—if they recovered—improves at an astonishing rate. Each morning you open the barn door to discover more of your chores have already been done, the dark-haired creature grinning proudly at his work, until one day, he had finished everything. You try to convince him he doesn’t have to do all that work for you, but, rubbing his neck sheepishly, he explains that it’s not so much a favor as a way to get you to spend more time with him.

You have to admit, it is much nicer this way.

Some mornings, you lie with your head in his lap in a quiet meadow you discovered along a solitary bend in the river. You gaze lazily up at your protector, his eyes bright as he weaves together the delicate stems of flowers. You had shown him how to do that—at first his large hands and herculean strength made him clumsy, and you giggled in commiseration, but soon he was gliding through the task as if he were one with nature, while you still managed to snap the stems more often than not. So you lie back and watch him work, smiling as he adorns you with spring. A crown of daisies circles his black hair.

How could anyone ever be afraid of such a gentle creature?

He still cries at every word of kindness you have for him. He still can't fathom how someone could show love toward an unlovable wretch—how you contradict his reality by telling him he is not unlovable at all, but loved. He still feels a sick squirming in his intestines at these incompatibilities of truth. Liar! Contemptible. Disgusting. Unworthy. LIES! his mind repeats at every compliment you bestow, but he swallows down the bile. Somehow, you find him pleasing, he reminds himself. He doesn’t flinch away as you touch his face, as you press mollifying kisses to his lips. He swore never to hurt you again, and he intends to keep his oath.

With no more manual labor to toil through, you are free to proceed with your pet project, as promised: making your dear daemon look human enough to be accepted by polite society.

Your theory is, the creature’s grim, unnatural complexion and titanic stature played only a small part in the terrified reception he received from everyone he had met (save you). His tattered, incomplete clothing, wild hair, and general state of dishevelment added to the bewilderment. People saw a crudely-dressed outsider emerging from the forest, of course they were afraid—they probably thought he was a cave troll!

But if you could make him look cultured and dignified…

After all, Lazarus Colloredo, whose half-formed brother protruded forth from his chest, exhibited himself at royal courts. It was common in any city to see humans with unusual physical characteristics begging on the streets, finding themselves unwanted in more sophisticated circles, but at least tolerated, and not feared or driven away. That would be enough.

People would tolerate your companion if they believed his condition were a natural one he was born with… if you could dress him to look like someone who had been born.

This proves easier said than done.

You find a few old clothes that fit him with a bit of tailoring, but you're not the best seamstress, so the finished result is only a small step above the rags he'd been wearing. And since you're not a cobbler, he still has no shoes. He looks disarrayed, and he needs to be perfect for this plan to have any chance of success.

Taming his wild mane is at least a pleasant task. After an initial battle with the worst of the tangles—filled with frustrated tugging and snagging of the brush, accompanied by his jolting and pitiful whimpering—you reach a comfortable, methodical pace. His whole body shivers as you run the brush through his hair, letting out soft noises of appreciation. The greatest impediment to progress is that he enjoys it too much. You’re no help, either. His noises encourage your hands to massage his scalp and purr words of praise to him, trying to draw more little breaths and groans from him. Soon he has flipped around and has you pinned under him, whispering sweet, sinful desires into your ear, grinding his tented pants against your thighs until you beg for him to take you right there.

It takes a few tries, interrupted by his superhuman stamina and overly-human desire for touch, but soon his hair is smooth as black satin, and looks just like a courtly gentleman’s when pulled back. Though he doesn’t like it pulled back. It exposes too much of his face, which, he points out, still looks like a corpse’s, and no amount of grooming will disguise that.

Reforming his appearance is not the only difficulty plaguing your idyllic life.

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

Bess stops by the barn to see you one afternoon in late spring. With the creature’s reflexes nearly back at full strength, there is little risk of being caught—he hears her coming and disappears into the loft without a sound.

“Come out to the dance tonight!” she implores. “It’ll be fun.”

“I don’t know…” You fidget with your fingernails, trying to think of a normal-sounding reason you can’t make it.

“Pleeease? I haven’t seen you in ages! Now that you finally dumped the loser,” she adds with a mischievous wink, “I've got a friend I think might be perfect for you.”

Ah, so that’s what this is about. She usually doesn’t push so hard to get you to socialize when you’re not in the mood, more of a you-do-you attitude. But she’s playing matchmaker now. “Oh, no,” you laugh nervously. “I'm not getting back on that horse yet, it’s way too soon.”

“It’s been months. You’ve waited an appropriate amount of time,” she crosses her arms, tilting her head to the side. “Nobody will think you indecent for moving on too quickly, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Is it getting hot in this barn? You pull at your collar. It feels like it’s getting hot in this barn. “It’s not that. It’s just, that whole situation was a disaster; I don’t want to go through it again.” There. That technically was not a lie. You’re not lying to your best friend.

“Come on, don't give up!” she slaps your shoulders encouragingly. “Love can strike when you least expect it!”

“Now that I agree with,” you meant to state without emotion, but you can’t curb the secret smile blooming across your cheeks.

Bess picks up on it instantly, her mahogany curls bouncing in shock. “DID YOU FIND SOMEONE?”

“W-what? Nooo!” you backpedal unconvincingly.

“Who is it? Someone I know? Where did you meet them?!”

“Shhh,” you hiss, looking past her exuberant eyes over her shoulder to try and see if your parents had magically appeared in earshot, like a pair of demons summoned by the sound of secrets. “There's nobody, just... shhh!"

“So that’s how it is, huh?” she raises an eyebrow. “Well, you better not be getting into anything scandalous, young lady,” she warns, putting on her best impression of your mother, before breaking character with a grin and a laugh, bouncing on her toes. “Oh please just tell me it's good. It must be juicy if you won’t even tell me. An errant noble? A gypsy lover? A married man? A woman? A married woman? Tell me tell me tell me!”

Eventually she lets it rest, and agrees not to pry (or say anything). But your secret isn’t safe.

“Come to the dance,” she pleads with you, back to the point of her visit. “People are starting to talk.” You’ve been acting stranger than usual. Keeping to yourself. Talking to yourself.

So that was why she was so adamant about you going. The romantic interest wasn’t the reason, it was just the carrot.

There are rumors that since your near-death experience, you’ve been haunted by something that followed you back from the other side. Your soul cursed by evil or some such nonsense. Ferdinand has been furious, and only making matters worse, adding fuel to the flames. Why else would someone of your station break things off with him? It could only be madness.

“Of course all but the most gullible of us knew Ferdinand’s ravings were just jealousy, but… A few people are claiming they’ve seen the beast he described lurking after dark. I don’t know, maybe he’s putting them up to it...”

A dagger of ice strikes you in the heart. They weren’t just rumors. The creature would wander at night—the only time it was safe for him to be out in the open. Or not so safe. You realize with a creeping dread down your spine that you have not been as clandestine as you thought.

You force yourself to laugh dismissively. “I’m sure if there was a monster, it would have found me and gobbled me up by now, don’t you think? So silly!” Ha ha ha.

“You’re so rational! To be honest, I would be terrified just by the thought some creepy demon thing might be after me,” she shudders. “You have to explain to everyone else what you just told me. Make an appearance, show everyone you’re fine.”

At length you relent, and go to the dance.

Everyone stares.

Nobody talks to you.

Ferdinand is there, and you spend the night avoiding him.

You miss the creature.

You wish you hadn’t gone.

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

When you finally get to see him again after the disaster of a dance, sneaking down to the barn in the pitch-black of night, he’s currying down the mule by lamplight. A bright smile splits his face when he sees you come in—wide, and showing rows of white teeth, which, you wonder, might seem terrifying to someone who didn’t know him very well, combined with hollow cheeks, dark-ringed eyes, and sallow skin pulled taut over the bone.

To you, he looks like a field of sunflowers on a summer day.

The animals seem to agree with your assessment. Even the mule, who used to rear up and bray at the sheer size of him, seems to have finally been swayed by his courtly manners. Now it snorts its disappointment as he puts away the brush to greet you. The chickens come running up to him, clucking for extra corn meal, one landing and perching on his head in a flurry of feathers. Barn cats swirl at his feet, and the cows are already lining up patiently to be milked, appreciative of his efficient hands and all-hours schedule.

You remember when you first taught him to milk. Now he’s more at home here than you ever were.

Unsettled by the rumors Bess had told you about, you pray nobody finds him. You pray that this can last. That he can stay here, smiling, until you’re ready to make his presence known to the town.

You long for a day you wouldn’t have to hide—that you could live together like a regular couple. You wish the world could see him the way you do, that this fantasy could become something real.

How could anyone ever be afraid of him?

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

He bolts into the barn, cloak whipping behind him, and skids to a halt over the hay-strewn floor, shutting the door quickly behind him. His wild eyes dart around the structure, adjusting to the dim light. When they focus on you, his body finally acknowledges it has found safety, and leans, trembling against the wooden walls for support. A frayed bouquet of wildflowers wilts in his left hand, stems destroyed in his crushing grip.

“Someone saw me.”

The pitchfork you were holding clatters to the floor.

“Who?! Where? When?? Are they coming? Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” You rush to his side, searching for fresh injuries, brain reeling with all the ways you were completely fucked.

It was broad daylight!

He hides his face behind a gangling hand, and tips his head down to get lost behind a forest of loose hair. “I… I do not know. A hunter?”

“What did they look like?” You reach up to grab his shoulders, trying to get him to look at you. His eyes are panicked and unfocused. You groan. “Not that it matters. Nobody in this town will understand. We have to control the circumstances carefully to introduce you without causing a panic. This is bad… If they followed you—”

“Fear in their eyes…” he murmurs, voice cracking. “Everyone who ever looks upon me has fear in their eyes.”

He’s still shaking, his face twisted up and on the verge of tears.

Oh.

He’s falling apart and all you can say is “This is bad”? This is no time for you to start panicking, too. You take a deep breath, and put a steadying hand on his arm. “Hey, it’s going to be OK,” you force a smile. “There have been rumors about you since I fell in the river—lots of people claim they saw you—this doesn’t change anything. We’re OK.”

“So much fear. That look of terror… Is that how I am meant to be looked at?” he collapses to his knees, letting his nails scrape down the wall as he sinks, the forgotten flowers dropping in a heap by his side as tears begin freely flowing down his cheeks. “How could I forget I am nothing more than a blot upon the earth? A sight to be abhorred.”

You wish you could swallow him up in your arms—cradle him like he does you. You give it your best try, spreading your arms wide and draping your whole body like a second cloak over his enormous, curled form. He rocks, continuing to mutter that he is a wretched thing made to be hated, while you whisper and hum soothing noises, rubbing his back.

“Look at me…” you whisper over his shoulder, gently tipping his chin toward you. He obeys, eyes dull and glassy as they meet yours. You smile, trying to pour every bit of love you feel for him into it, so even from whatever dismal well his heart has sunk to the bottom of, it will radiate affection to him like the sun.

For an instant, his tears stop actively flowing as he observes you. “Except for you. The way you look at me is so different.”

“This is how you're meant to be looked at.”

He chokes and turns away, rubbing his eyes. You circle around to his front, and lean your forehead against his. He looks at you again, a little calmer now. The adoration in your eyes is almost too much for him to bear, but he tries to smile back. The attempt shatters your heart.

“Oh, you kind, benevolent angel, blessing this foul villain with such a favorable gaze.”

“My wonderful, powerful protector,” you coo softly. You move to sit, and he instinctively makes room for you on his lap—muscle memory of the way you fit together—holding you comfortably in his strong arms. “So sweet and gentle.” Your voice dips flirtatiously, and you touch a hand to his cheek, serenely caressing his jawline.

“How can you look at me like that, in spite of all my flaws?”

The answer spills from your mouth with an infatuated grin before you have a chance to think. “You don’t have flaws. You’re perfect!”

He frowns.

The frown deepens until it nearly becomes a scowl, and he closes his narrowed eyes against the feeling threatening to boil out.

“Please stop that,” he removes your hand from his cheek. “Do not pretend I am not what I am. It is… mockery.”

Shit. You got carried away. Of course he would take that the wrong way. You had to be careful about paying compliments to his body, they hurt him. The cruelest words of insult wouldn’t sting half as much as calling him handsome. But you don’t want to apologize this time. After all, you meant it.

“My beloved,” you stroke his face with the hand he didn’t have restrained, determined to beat down his walls of insecurity with relentless affection. His neck and the tips of his ears redden with heat. “I—”

“Do not flatter me with sugared lies, and ignore the truth,” he interrupts, the tremor returned to his voice. “I know what I am. Being pitied is enough for a wretch like me; it is enough that you endure this unsightly visage without hating its owner. Do not pretend you cannot see me. It is worse to pretend.”

Your throat tightens, and a prickling of tears threatens your eyes, but you don’t cry. It’s heartbreaking that he still thinks of his body as something you have to endure. That you only put up with it, rather than adore it as you do. But he is stubborn in his hatred for his creator’s work. To explain your feelings to him, you will have to choose your words carefully.

“It’s not that I don’t see you, or your scars. I have eyes. I know most people are frightened by your appearance, and I know you’ve suffered horribly because of it. I should have realized you would think I was teasing you to say you’re perfect, but… I mean it.

“You are my heart’s gleam, my gentle dove. My beloved daemon. To me, you are the most wonderful being in all of creation. I am so happy to have met you, and to have had you in my life these past months. There is no one who lights up my heart as you do, none whose face it pleases me to see more. I am never more comfortable than when I’m in your arms, and I never feel so beautiful as when you look at me, nor so important as when you speak to me as if my thoughts matter. Your intelligent mind and poetic soul fill my days with wonder, and you make me feel accepted in a way I have never been before.”

You are stroking his face and the sides of his neck with both hands now, and he is melting into your touch, breaths drawing in slowly and puffing out in shaky bursts. You twirl a finger around a lock of dusky hair.

“I have never wanted you to be any different from the way you are. So I must conclude that the world’s measure of beauty is wrong—for you are perfect. Entirely, completely perfect.”

His head collapses into yours, leaning his forehead against you. He grips you tightly with both arms, squeezing you into his chest like he’s trying to absorb you. Warm, agitated breaths fan your face, and you feel his shoulders convulsing; you think he’s weeping, but then you realize it’s laughter.

“I sound wonderful,” he says, a hint of pride licking the edges of his voice.

“You are.”

He kisses your neck, awing that you let him press his lips to you, then buries his face against your skin. “In books there is always passion, but... this is far greater than that. You are so patient with me. What did young Werther and Charlotte truly share? What did Juliet know of Romeo? Only the impulses of desire. You offer friendship, and I should like to spend my life repaying the kindness you have bestowed on me.”

You hum with excitement. “Oh my daemon, my dove, my flitter-mouse,” endearments fall from your lips like apple blossom petals. Goaded by your words, he hefts you up with a now-familiar (yet still shocking) ease, an impish smile sparkling in his eyes as he bridal carries you across the room, ignoring the petulant clucking of chickens scattering from his path.

“You are perfect,” he kisses your forehead. He sets you down on top of a storage chest, your back supported the wall. “And wonderful,” he kisses your nose. From your new perch, your hips are close to the height of his, and the outline of something growing at the front of his pants tells you exactly where his mind is heading. “And you are mine, yes?” He asks, voice heavy. Instead of kissing you again, he waits for you to close the distance.

“Always,” you answer, stretching up to grasp his lower lip between your teeth, nibbling and running your tongue over it. He gasps at the novelty, and a surge of heat flares to life inside him. He moans as you tug his lip away from his teeth, and he chases your mouth down, a hand at the back of your head preventing your escape as he envelops you with a smothering kiss, his thick tongue demanding an invitation which you happily give, caressing your own tiny tongue on the probing muscle filling your entire mouth, wrapping your arms around his back as he consumes you.

Finally he pulls back, a string of saliva still connecting you, a wolfish hunger in his eyes. “You’re mine, and I love you so much…”

Love.

You pant, hands curling through his hair. Had you said that before? Had he? Well, yes, you had used the word to describe your feelings, but never so directly. Never in a way that couldn’t have been intended as general, familial, platonic love. You never obfuscated your camaraderie and affection… but this felt different. Pointed.

I love you so much.

You shiver with pleasure as his corpse lips trace your jaw and down your neck. He leaves a trail of tender kisses all the way down your arm, lingering to suck at the soft skin on the underside of your elbow. A sudden tightness builds in your core, accompanied by a sinful wetness that urges you to wrap your legs around his hips, hiking your skirt up above your knees, and pull him close. The pressure of his clothed cock—now fully erect—pressing into your inner thighs makes the urge worse. You shift to position the bulge against your aching clit, and rock your hips mindlessly seeking relief as his soft kisses up and down your neck and arms drive you into oblivion.

“I love you,” you murmur.

He stands straight, which makes you whine with disappointment as his warm lips leave your body, but he’s looking down at you with the softest eyes. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. “Those three words fill me with joy enough for a lifetime; and beyond even the veil of death, the happiness of that one utterance shall warm me for eternity. Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

A tingle of goosebumps spread up your arm at his sudden demandingness—the way he leans over you, a hand against the wall, voice thick, and low.

“I love you.”

“Again,” he commands, leaning in close to your ear, voice barely a whisper. He nips the flesh of your earlobe and your back arches involuntarily.

“I love you,” the words brush against his cheek.

“Again,” he sighs, before his lips fall on yours, swallowing your reply.

You had been in the middle of refreshing the straw bedding for the cows when he burst in, and there is still a nagging at the back of your mind of what if he was followed? But no angry mob has appeared at your doorstep yet, and everything else can wait its turn. This is definitely… the most important thing on your mind.

It is a soft kiss, as his usually are—gentle and careful with one so much smaller than he is—but grows in intensity, his tongue parting your lips, running across your teeth and plundering your mouth as you moan and twitch your hips. All his insecurity disappears with the noises and writhing he can draw from you, how eager and helpless you are under his touch. Every fear eclipsed by his burning need to bury himself inside you, and hear you scream out for him as he satisfies himself.

His large fingers unfasten the lacing of your bodice with the same practiced ease as weaving flower stems, pulling down your blouse as his hot, sloppy kisses move from your mouth, over your jaw, and down your neck—this time leaving red hickies in their wake. You feel the direction of his mouth toward your exposed chest, and whimper in anticipation of the warm slickness in just the right spot. He kneads the fat of your breasts in his palms, his sucking kisses down your collarbone growing ever more needy, filling the barn with wet smacking.

With an electric jolt, his tongue finally reaches the sensitive flesh of your nipple, and you feel a flood of warmth surging through your body, curling your toes, and settling in the base of your spine. Your fingers curl into his hair, against his scalp, pulling him against the hardening bud, his lips closing over it, tongue making languid circles that make your head loll back, and your hips buck up to grind against him—but only meet the air. To bend his towering body enough to reach your chest, he had to adjust his hips away from you, and without the pressure of his erection to grind against your cunt felt desperately empty, aching for contact.

“Ah,” you gasp, grabbing his hand and placing it between your legs, under your skirt, “P-please!”

His lips pull into a smile against your breast, exposing his tongue as it flicks across your nipple, now bright red and sopping wet. A large digit runs down the length of your slit. You gasp and jerk into it, but his hand is already gone. He rubs the moisture between his fingers. “Hmm, already so excited,” he taunts in a velvety voice, switching to your other breast, rolling the first between his thumb and fingers.

When did he get so confident? He used to follow your lead, waiting on you to instruct him. He was still terrified of the world, but with you…

“Tell me what you want me to do,” he purrs, sucking your nipple sharply to draw another gasp from your lips.

In your private world, when things got like this…

You let out a strangled whine, moving his hand back between your legs. He lets it rest there idly, ignoring your frustrated, pleading groans and clawing at his hand to do something. He pinches a nipple, delicately tugging at it, slowly drawing his tongue across the other.

“Hmm? You must speak up. I want to hear your voice.”

...He could be such an arrogant little shit! It’s so hot.

“F-fingers! Please!”

“As you wish.”

With a possessive growl, his long finger plunges inside you, moving in and out, getting coated with your slippery wetness as he treats your breasts as his playthings. You can hear his breathing increase, too, each exhale a loud snarl. His hips begin jerking in time with the pulsing of his finger into you, feeling the twitch of your velvet walls squeezing him as he drives you toward your climax—he imagines it’s his cock inside you, and suddenly, this isn’t enough.

“S-so good. You’re so good,” you whine, eyes closing as you lift your hips into his finger, deepening every thrust. The heat in your core is building, coiling, tightening… You stroke his hair, savoring the motion of his head and the wet sucking noises at your chest as he sends wave after wave of pleasure through you with his tongue. You run your hand over the striations of muscle in his shoulder, over his healed gunshot wound, the feel of his skin and the sound of his ragged breathing sending you over the edge—

His finger pulls out. His tongue moves away.

The release so close on your horizon fizzles.

“Wah!” Your eyes shoot open, complaints pursed on your lips. Then you see the hungry look in his eyes, and a shudder runs down your spine. Maybe he’ll fuck you right there. By the look of it, his erection is ready to rip through his pants.

“Patience,” he purrs, swallowing the tightness in his throat—the only sign of his slipping composure.

He spreads open your legs, kneeling between them, strong hands on your thighs helping you balance on the edge of the crate. His chest rises and falls slowly as he inhales your scent. “S-stop it!” you blush, squirming but unable to budge from his firm grip. Why does he like to smell you so much? You close your eyes and look away from the lewd act. He’s really changed so much, no longer so eager to please you that he wouldn’t risk drawing things out, or embarrassing you. He trusts you, that you’re never going to push away from him in sudden disgust; he knows you enjoy every minute of his attention.

He extends his long, thick tongue, and traces it along your thighs, teasing you with nips and kisses. Your body shudders at the welcome heat. He’s become an expert on your body, listening to your breathing and waiting for exactly the right moment to finally taste your dripping cunt. Your fingers clench in his hair, urging him on, but he takes his time with a long, measured, broad-tongued lap down your inner thigh, his eyes watching yours, studying your reaction and giving a self-satisfied smirk at your struggle to contain yourself.

“Please… more.”

Slowly, patiently, he finally dips his tongue into your quivering, saturated heat. He lets out a muffled moan into you, savoring you, hands clenching on your thighs as he revels in it. You can feel that tension start to coil again, but he’s still taking his time with such an indulgent, unhurried pace, you’ll never reach the orgasm you were denied.

Your fingers dig into the back of his head and your hips twist in his vice grip, helpless to create their own pace. “Faster.” You try to jerk your hips against his tongue again, to no avail. “You feel so good, my love,” you coo in a honeyed voice, hoping flattery will achieve results. “What must I do for you to let me come? I’ll do anything. Please—faster!”

In a blur of motion, your legs are over his shoulders and he’s standing at full height, large hands holding up your hips to his mouth, your back resting on the box where your ass just was. It feels like the wind was knocked out of you—you can barely breathe as he points his tongue into a stiff rod and attacks your clit with incredible speed and vigor. You didn’t know tongues could move to fast! His mouth is working magic, and the angle he’s holding you at somehow makes it feel even better. Maybe it’s the blood rushing to your head, or the way you have to look up at him, holding you as you dangle helplessly at his mercy, but you can feel your climax returning in greater force.

“I’m… going to finish already,” you writhe and moan, cheeks hot.

He doesn’t stop this time. “Come in my mouth,” he instructs, licking and lapping you deeper, faster, his own moans of pleasure lost in yours, crying out louder, thighs clamping around his neck, pulling him in harder, deeper, until your muscles convulse and you bite your lip to silence your shaking scream. He thrusts his tongue deep inside you, feeling your walls twitch around him, tasting your hot release coat his tongue.

“Fuck, you’re so good. So perfect,” you praise as you start to come down.

He’s not through with you yet, however. Not by a long shot.

He keeps writhing his tongue inside of your still-twitching heat, then brings his mouth back to your over-worked clit, ghosting his lips over it, flicking softly and quickly with the pointed end of his tongue.

You cry out in surprise, an unpleasantly strong contraction ripping through your body in protest. “N-no!” you try to wriggle away, pushing your arms out against him, but from your upside-down suspended position, the only part of him you can reach is—your heart skips a beat as your hand grazes his throbbing steel shaft. A renewed surge of heat flushes between your legs, overwhelming the over-stimulation with pleasure. You swallow.

“Do you want more?” he murmurs, drunk on you. You nod breathlessly. You need him to keep going. To put that in you. “Good.”

You grope blindly for the inhumanly thick bugle in his pants, and lay your palm against it, feeling its incredible length. The heat it gives off is amazing. There is a sharp inhale, and a hiccup in the steady working of his tongue. Not so easy to stay cool, is it? You smile, finally turning the tables a little. You rub his clothed shaft until he makes muffled whines into your cunt, and his hips start rocking against your hand as you stroke him up and down.

This is heaven. He could live between your thighs, drowning in the taste of you. He loves making you happy—seeing you shudder with pleasure from his touch—and the power he has over you in these moments makes an intoxicating combination. You belong to him.

“Do I make you feel good?” he rasps. You stare back up at him—his tongue stopped. You pull at the back of his head with your legs, trying to get him to start again, to give you what your body desperately needs, but he only looks at you with heavy-lidded eyes and tips his head to the side. Fuck, he’s cute when he does that.

“Y-yeah.”

Lick.

Your hips buck into his mouth in appreciation, an electric pulse vibrating down your back.

“Only I can make you feel this way?”

Oh god, this is the game he’s playing? You’ll say anything to get him to keep going, but the only answer you can make right now is a pleading, affirmative whine and a nod.

Lick.

That was good enough. Your eyes squeeze shut. You were so close again!

“Only me?”

“Please don’t stop!”

Not good enough. “Say you’re mine,” he purrs, “That only I can make you feel this way.”

“Only you!” you cry, squeezing your thighs around him, trying to pull him back in, “I’m yours! Please!”

He smiles, and gives you a delicate swirl of the tongue, tracing your clit, then plunges his tongue deep inside you, fucking you with the large muscle, pulsating and tasting you, filling your longing core up with its heat. Oh god, it wasn’t as big as his cock, but the way it could move inside you was so strange and delicious, and the wet, hungry noises his mouth made sent you over the edge a second time, your hands grasping for something to cling to—one clenching the edge of the crate, the other gripping the outline of his shaft.

He slips his tongue out of you, dripping with a mingling of your juices and his saliva, and puts it back to work on your throbbing clit without pausing. In its place, he soaks two bony fingers in your empty core. The fingers are cooler and less slithery than his tongue, but make up for it with length and firmness, reaching deeper, and hitting nerves that his tongue missed.

“R-right there!” you squeal, voice shaking as he finds your g-spot. He feels your muscles twitching and pulling beneath his hands. Sucking hard on your clit, he pumps his finger harder in and out of your drenched pussy, focusing on that sensitive spot that makes you cry out for him, until you come again, your walls clenching and unclenching around his hand.

You expect a break after that. Your body is exhausted and trembling, especially in this uncomfortable—if arousing—position. But, whether he’s working off his earlier panic, or he just has that much more stamina now that he’s healed, he doesn’t stop. Instead, he adds another finger, stretching you farther and making you moan with the feeling of fullness. You don’t bother to protest or try to wriggle away, only whimpering praises and encouragement, eager for more. He builds you up and sends you over the precipice again, and again, and again relentlessly until you can’t stand any more.

Only when you’re shaking and soaking, so dizzy with sensation you can no longer speak, does he release his iron-clad grip on your hips and lowers them back down to the top of the storage chest, sitting you up with your back resting on the wall. Breathing erratically, he presses a tender but sloppy kiss to your lips, the flavor of you on his tongue.

“This is what… perfection tastes like,” he pants.

Settling between your legs, he finally frees his unbearably hard erection from its prison, the unearthly member glistening with precum and throbbing with pent-up desire.

The storage crate is tall enough that he barely needs to bend his knees to achieve the right height, and with little need for adjustment, he’s rubbing his giant cockhead along your entrance. It feels so good, but your tired muscles are too limp to buck your hips up to help push him in, so you merely bite your lower lip in anticipation of being filled with him.

After being forced to wait for so long, his cock aches to bury itself up to the hilt in you with one thrust, but if he just pushed it in, he might split you in half. He is your gentle creature, needy as he may be, and he can wait just a little longer if it means not hurting you. He rubs his shaft along you, coating it in your slickness with his hand, making sure you’re ready to take him. He pushes the head inside. A gurgled moan escapes your lips at the satisfying pressure. He studies your face.

“Do you want me?” His hands trace over the bone of your hips, kneading the fat of your thighs. You nod weakly, and he pushes in farther. He’s spreading you wide, filling you so magnificently. This is what you’ve been waiting for. Yet he still waits, pausing for your body to adjust to his size. “Are you all right?”

You put your hand over his, marveling at how much bigger it is than yours, and squeeze. “I love you so much. Now fuck me.”

He lets out a strangled whimper of affection at your declaration, and jerks his hips forward into your eager pussy. A cry of pleasure and brief pain tears from your throat. Those words were all the encouragement he needed to become ravenous, nipping at your neck, pinching until a trail of red bruises blooms over your skin. Suddenly, you’re in the air, still fully impaled on his prodigious length, and being slammed against the wall. He begins pounding into you hard and fast, hands squeezing your hips and shoulder, keeping you effortlessly off the ground, while your legs instinctively wrap themselves around his waist, holding on for dear life as he fucks you into the wall, the sloppy sounds of flesh striking flesh filling the serene bucolic air.

You hold him close, running your hands up his back and around his ass, feeling the powerful jerking of his muscles beneath the skin as he thrusts into you. So big. Everything about him is oversize, his arms, his cock, all of the scars covering his body… the textured discoloration of his skin. He did look devilish—but he was so sweet, and kind, and so, so passionate for you, he was more like a prince. Or, at the very least, he was your devil.

Even in his lust-fueled frenzy, he notices you noticing him.

Your eyes are undisguisedly observing parts of him he would rather not think about, and suddenly he remembers what he looks like—self-awareness lost in the passion of the moment returning like a revelation. What you see whenever he mounts you is a monster… and you still let him. You still beg him to. You moan, and whimper, and plead for more of him, your body at his command.

His grunts grow louder and less controlled, and each thrust of his hips sends tremors through the entire barn, little trails of dust and hay falling from the rafters.

“How does it feel to be fucked by a monster? To belong to me?”

It feels warm. You can barely articulate an answer through the fog. It feels rough, hard, fast, tender, passionate…

His breath hitches, a low rumble in his throat, and you realize you’ve been muttering out loud.

“You’re so perfect. So big. You know exactly what I want,” you run your hands up the misshapen grooves of his chest, struggling to keep your voice smooth and seductive as he knocks the wind out of you with each thrust. Compliments can often backfire with the self-hating creature, but in moments like this, you can praise him like a puppy dog and it gets him more red-faced than… than the fact that you’re fucking!

“You feel so good inside me,” you keep singing praises as he pounds into you, his grip getting harder and harder until you’re sure you’ll be left with bruises. “You're so big, you're filling me up. Nobody can do the things you do to me.”

Finally he buries his head in your neck and lets out a full-throated sob, as his hips meet yours in a powerful thrust, burying himself deeper inside you than you believed possible. You feel the warmth of his hot seed filling you, so much of it that it overflows out of you and drips down your ass.

He doesn’t move. He pants against your neck, practically growling, arms holding you in place possessively, pinning you to the wall. You’re not getting down just yet. He wants to savor his cock buried deep inside your warmth for a little longer. You sigh contentedly, closing your eyes and leaning your head against his sweat-dampened chest.

Exhausted and sated, his senses begin to return. He stares at the huge mummy-like hands practically swallowing your small body, your skin so elastic, vibrant, and alive in contrast. Softly, he asks again, absent any passion-fueled bravado, “You love me?”

“I love you.”

“Foolish girl.”

“You love a foolish girl,” you tease, grinning. You grab both sides of his face, rubbing your nose against his.

“I do.”

You could get lost in the little world the two of you share.

Unfortunately you were so engrossed in your own little world that you didn't hear the hens clucking as they rushed to the edge of the fence, or the cows mooing a friendly greeting to a familiar face.

You didn't notice Bess standing in the doorway of the barn until she let out a blood-curdling scream.

#Frankenstein #frankenstein's monster x reader #the creature x reader #monster x human #smutfic #smut #lemon #my writing #FINALLY FINISHED #This one took so long y'all #I hope you enjoy

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