#oh actually it’s his lack of facial hair that’s what it is

[whokilledsamara]

HEYY POOKIE!!! I was wondering if you could do a Mr. Crawling from homicipher x a fem reader smut.(idk if you do fem reader if you don't feel comfortable just do gn)

THANK YOU SO MUCH IF YOU DO THIS!!! ♡♡♡ I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT DAY!!

ENDLESS

a Mr. Crawling {homicipher} x reader fic. {an: hi friend!! ofc! i actually prefer writing fem {afab} because it is what i am and i find it easier to write for. you have a good day aswell :)}

warnings! : not too much for this one, hes a friendly boy. smut, blood mention, claustrophobia, size difference, switch!reader, afab, female genitalia described, mr. crawling has no idea what hes doing, language border. sorry there isnt TOO much plot on this one, i need to study more on the game and plus i didnt really know how to write his character.

{an : this takes place in the part where Mr. Scarletella walks past the room, and Mr. Crawling has to protect/shield you. my apologies if it isnt completely accurate, i have yet to watch a full playthrough.}

theres.. blood on the floor. you make a mental note of as you walk down the eerie hallway, "Mr. Crawling" or so you called him, close behind you.

he muttered the same word over and over to you, in a hushed yet worried voice. with not a single understanding of what he was saying, you took his facial expressions as a better way to figure it out.

your best guess was that he was attempting to say "unsafe." as his veiny hand kept pointing down the hallway. "unsafe?" you ask in a curious tone. he pauses for a second before nodding.

halting your movements, you stare at him nervously, your eyes darting from him to down the hallway. "i have too.." you say softly as you look at him.

he tilts his head in lack of understanding but allows you to continue walking, close behind you on his knees.

turning the corner, there is more blood and chains on the wall.

gross.

you think to yourself. your head snaps up as you hear footsteps seemingly getting closer to you, and before you can react, you are jerked into the closest room and underneath the usually crawling man.

"w-wha... what are you doing..?" you whisper up at him, his worried expression flicking from you to the door.

he lets out a hushed whine, and again, in a language you cant understand, he huffs out panicked words. from your previous understanding with the others, you get the words "someone else, near"

you instantly shut your mouth, his body hovering over you in attempt to shield you from whatever was walking past. thats when you see it.

a tall, slender man with red hair, covered in red clothing, and a.. red umbrella for some reason, walking past.

the man pauses, static around him, before he continues walking as if he didn't notice you. your body instinctively huddles closer to Mr. Crawling, wrapping your arms around his neck and pushing your body against his.

after a few minutes, and after both of you are sure the tall man is gone, he starts to whimper, his forearms holding him above you, and his knee so perfectly placed in between your legs.

what you thought was chaste, was him feeling an unknown desire for something he had never felt before.

his whimpers turn into almost desperate whines, and you finally look up at him. while you cant see his eyes, his face is a deep red and light pants leave his mouth.

"a-are you okay..?" you ask in a hushed voice. while he doesnt understand you, he understands your body language. he presses his knee further into your clothed core, your body instantly reacting and jerking. "a-oh.." you flinch, hands sliding down his cloth clad chest.

his hands make their way up your body, testing the waters and curiously grabbing your plush skin. the cold concrete floor wasnt making it easier to stay focused, along with his cold hands grabbing anything he could.

"fuck.. i cant believe this is happening.." you mutter more to yourself than anything. his knee still pressed in between your legs. grabbing his hand, you trail it up under your shirt and place it on your heavy breast- allowing him to explore.

he begins kneeding it, with an unknown curiosity. your breathing come out in short huffs and gentle moans, moans that he seems to enjoy hearing.

"do you even... have the equipment to be doing this..?" you ask, motioning to his groin. his eyes follow your hand, and he tilts his head while staring at it. he pulls his hands out from under your shirt and slips down the cloth covering his groin.

fuck hes big.. his heavy and semi-hard appendage springs out, a slight throb to it. your hand experimentally reaches out to touch it, its hot and leaking. his body instinctively jerks as your hand grazes it, a needy plea in his sounds.

well.. if im gonna die here i might aswell..

you slowly begin stroking it, his mouth agape and hips jerking towards your hand.

he gently reaches for your clothing, quick yet gentle as he slides down your pants. you involuntarily squeak, but dont make a move to stop him as his hand curiously grazes your folds. with a swift motion, he pushes a finger inside your entrance, tilting his head with confusion as you moan heavily.

wetness grows on his hand, leaking down his forearm. "oh fuck..." you breath shakily, pumping him faster. his face scrunches up and he lets out a cute noise, moving his finger faster. after a hot minute of this, you pull your hand off much to his dismay, and you gently remove his hand from you. as you position yourself in a slightly different way under him, you make a 'come here' motion with your finger. he obediently complies, above you once more.

teaching him what to do was kind of hard with the language barrier but you made it work.

it wasnt long before he was slipping his length inside of you, stretching you as far as you could go.

sure it hurt like hell, but you couldn't deny the pleasure that came with it. his thrusts were unpredictable, due to his lack of experience.

he was good, really good in fact, and teaching him what to do was quite easy as a fast learner.

you let out a harsh whine as his tip grazes your cervix, and his hips pause, eyes focused on your face. another word from that confusing language. "you, okay?" he asks. you nod hastily and reach out, grabbing his hip and pulling him back deeper. luckily he gets the hint, and starts moving again.

a white ring forms around the base of his length, his breathing heavy and hitching with each thrust. his long, skinny hand covers your mouth, preventing most of your noises from escaping your lips.

no matter how much he wanted to hear them, he had to keep you safe.

his thrusts became sloppier, signaling his upcoming orgasm. yours was approaching aswell, and quickly you reach your fingers down, rubbing in a rhythm he noticed. he looks from your face to your hand, shoving it out of the way and replacing it with his own, rubbing harsh circles on your bead.

soon after, he had you coming undone on him, cunt clenching and unclenching around him. his whining hit a peak and his surprisingly cold seed shot through you. he came a lot, filling you to the brim and leaning over you.

his large form casted a shadow over your body, his hair falling on each side of your face as he desperately pressed his lips against yours, his cum seeping around him and out of you. harsh pants and whimpers fill the small room, as he pulls out and hurriedly pulls your clothing back on, not wanting to get caught.

he notices your struggle to stand, moving to his knees to help you up. after everything is stable, you and him make your way through the long corridors, hopefully finding an exit to this place.

maybe we can try again..

{an: this was so fun to make!! i kinda procrastinated a bit, so i apologize if it is sloppy. i don't know much about Homicipher other than my deep attraction to the characters XD}

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[ddejavvu]

this is cheesy but when spencer and reader start getting more comfortable in their relationship and they exchange keys to each others places, reader starts going over while hes away. just to chill because she misses him or borrow something or get something she left. but then dhe notices his apartment is a little messy and he doesnt have a lot of food in the fridge.

the first time he comes home to a full fridge and clean apartment he's a little confused, but when he brings it up and she confesses hes just sooooo touched and appreciative.

the first time he comes home and shes asleep on the bed or couch or wherever he just MELTS. like an actual puddle on the floor kinda melting bc hes just so overwhelmed with love 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Spencer Reid is, quite possibly, the smartest motherfucker in the FBI. As an esteemed profiler, he notices right away that you've been in his apartment, from the post-it note grocery list sitting on the top of what's in his trash can, and a lack of dust over his kitchen counter like there typically is after he's gone on a case for a few days.

He spots 'donuts' on the list, and when he pulls the fridge open, lo and behold, there's a bag of mini chocolate donuts on the top shelf. He smiles to himself, giddily so, more than elated that you'd remembered an offhanded comment he'd made about liking them so much, especially when they're chilled.

He remembers everything anyone tells him, but people rarely stop to listen to his own words. So often it can be cast aside as nerd babble, so knowing that you'd picked up on the small tidbits of personal information he'd given you makes his seldom-fluttering heart do just that.

He feels a little bad that you'd stocked his fridge and ran, but he doesn't have to for long, because when he heads to the living room to drop his messenger bag there, and restock it with a different book, you're snoozing in his chair.

It's a recliner, one he'd splurged on so that late-night reading would be more comfortable. You've popped the footrest up, but your feet barely touch it, because you're curled up closer to the seat. Your head rests on one of the arms and is dangerously close to slipping off, so he kneels by the armrest, joints cracking.

His face hovers millimeters away from your own, your breath hitting his cheek and vice versa. He smooths a stray wisp of hair away from your face, leaning in to kiss the skin it had been covering.

"Hi, angel," He croons, keeping his voice as soft as humanly possible. He doesn't want to ruin this, whatever heavenly moment that the seldom-kind universe has decided to grant him.

Your lashes flutter at the feel of his lips on your skin, and you turn your face to lean into the touch you don't yet know is there. He can't help but laugh at the way you arch like a cat to be closer to him, and the breathy huffs fan out against your forehead.

His slender hand comes up to hover beneath your head, because when you worm closer to him, it slips off of the armrest. He holds your head up but you're finally starting to stir from the movement, and you lift it to blink groggily up at him.

"Spence?" You ask, like you're verifying his identity and not asking why he's home.

"That's me," He smiles, dimples puncturing his cheeks. His hair is slightly sloppy, frizzed and out of place from the day's hectic activities. At his confirmation you hum sleepily, resuming your cat-like activities by shutting your eyes again, leading with your nose as you nudge your face into his own. From the angle you're at his lips can only pucker to hit an awkward spot between your cheek and your nose, but the skin there is warm and soft from a facial mask he knows you used last night.

"Morning," You grumble, and he won't inform you that it's 7 at night.

"Hi, sweetheart." He croons, unable to stand up straight before you decide you want a hug. It means his butt hits the floor when you lunge for him, and he laughs as he tries maintaining an upright position.

"Oh- ah!" He laughs, eyes scrunching in a gleeful smile-turned-laugh when you knock into him. He cradles the back of your head, feeling you settle into his embrace like he's your new reclining chair.

"'Missed you, Spence." You mumble against the fabric of his jacket that's covering his shoulder. He curls his fingers into your hair at your admission, stroking briefly through the strands.

"I missed you too," He agrees, "I saw you bought me donuts."

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I did." You recall, eyes already drooping again, "We can have some for- for dessert later."

"That sounds like a good plan," Spencer grins, but you can't see it where you're nestled into his shoulder. He's waiting for you to get up, not because he doesn't want to hug you anymore but because he wants to stand and move, but when you stay firmly in place he realizes you're sleeping again, and that there's no way he's getting off the floor in the meantime.

He could wake you, tell you it's time for a late dinner and ask you to work on the eggs so that he can chop up the add-ins for an omelet. He could corral you back into the chair and take the bed for himself, read for a bit after getting changed. He could do any number of things to make himself just a bit more comfortable, but instead he chooses to commit his butt to the floor, surely flattening it for all eternity. He scoots back carefully until his back is up against the couch, so that his less-than-perfect core strength isn't relied upon as much.

From there he rests, disinterested in using his phone and too far away from his bookshelf to read. But he finds just as much meaningful entertainment in counting the breaths that you release against his shoulder, as well as counting the different possessions of yours he can see scattered around his apartment.

Your shoes, one. Your water bottle, two. Your sweatshirt, three. Your snack, four. Your keys, perhaps the most meaningful possession of all, the spare that he'll never regret giving you, five.

[lokis-army-77]

Live from Hawkins

Older!Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Eddie watched as you are stood up on a date and without a second thought, he brings you home.

Warning: 18+. Eddie is in his late 50s to early 60s, reader is 20s to early 30s. p in v, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, sir kink, pet names, a few spanks, fingering, mention of a partner having died.

A/n: Thank you @munson-blurbs for hyping me up to write this and for thinking of the funny little thing that happens at the end hehe, I love you <3 also my version older!eddie is inspired by @ farmerusedto on tiktok and Instagram.

Masterlist  Part 2

The fun of nightlife had escaped Eddie when his biological clock started making him go to bed at 8:30 p.m. instead of 2 a.m., but tonight was an exception. After an extraordinarily shitty day, he thought a drink or two at his old haunt would cheer him up. It didn’t, not entirely. The whisky he had been nursing tasted like shit and the crowd in the bar left little to be desired, except for you. 

Eddie had clocked you when you entered the establishment at eight on the dot. His eyes raked over the pretty silky red dress that stuck to the curves of your body as you made your way to a tiny circular table with two chairs and sat down. Your head was held high as you watched the front door. 

Ah, a date, He thought. Then he began thinking about all the dates he had been on in the long past years until he had met his wife, and then the lack thereof after her passing twenty-some years ago. He’s never had time to date. Raising kids two kids as a single dad while also being a simi-successful musician turned producer, looking for romance added a whole new thing to worry about so he just didn’t, but now, in his later years of life, with his children grown and moved out, he could afford the chance to indulge. Sadly though, you were apparently taken. 

Even after he had finished his one glass of alcohol, he waited. Watching you as your posture slowly became slouched, you sipped on some fancy beverage, and your head stopped peaking up when the bell to the door chimed as it was opened and closed. You were beautiful and didn’t deserve to be stood up.

When the clock struck nine, Eddie stretched his aching joints and stood from the bar. Sauntering his way over to your tiny table.

“This seat taken?” He asked, hand resting on the back of the chair. 

You lifted your head from your phone startled and shook your head. “Unfortunately, no. You can take it.” Sighing, you look back down at your phone, expecting him to take the lone chair and pull it up to another table. To your surprise, he actually sat down in front of you. “Um… can I help you?” 

“Sorry, I just saw you sitting here by yourself for a while and thought you might like the company. A pretty girl like you in a pretty dress like that shouldn’t be sitting alone in a bar like this, some weirdo could show up.”

You blush, almost as red as your dress. “And how do I know you aren’t the weirdo?” 

“Good question. You don’t.” He laughed.

The deep timber of it had your stomach flipping. His facial features were hidden under a nicely kept beard, full of salt and pepper hairs, more salt than anything else. The shaggy, slightly curly hair atop his head looked the same. He was definitely older than you by a couple of decades, but hey he was nice looking and obviously, the guy you were supposed to be seeing wasn’t coming. What harm could come from flirting with this guy?

“But hey, a bit of mystery can be a good thing, don’t you think?” He asks. 

You can't help the giggle that passes your lips. “Oh, really?” You look him up and down. His outfit was something reminiscent of the eighties, only more subdued. Tight black jeans, motorcycle boots, and an Iron Maiden shirt that had been ripped at the hem. Before he had sat down you even spotted a black and white skull bandana in his back pocket. “I’ve heard that with age comes wisdom. Are you here to enlighten me then?”

He lets out a more hearty laugh this time, his head falling back. Your eyes scan the contours of his neck and watch as his Adam's apple bobs up and down. “I don’t know about wisdom, but I do have a few decades under my belt. Maybe I was the one hoping to learn a little thing or two from such a charming young lady as yourself. 

Your hand lifts to cover your smile and you look away almost bashfully. “Such a smooth talker aren’t you?” 

“As smooth as I can be…” He leans forward, hand resting on the table, fingers laced together. You see the many rings decorating them. The flip in your stomach drops and you clench your thighs together. “Why? Is my charm winning you over?”

“So that’s what you’re trying to do, huh?” You smile. 

“Well, it was either that or all the vintage dad jokes I know.” He smiles back. 

You can feel your mood being lifted from the once sour thing that it was into something more bubbly as you listen to him. “Vintage dad jokes? Sound’s intriguing. Maybe I’ll stick around for now.” 

He nods. “That’s a good choice Sweetheart. Who could resist the allure of outdated humor and a bit of gray hair?” His hand tugs at his beard. 

“You know, I could be out having an adventure with the guy I was supposed to be meeting here instead of chatting with a silver fox.” There is a permanent grin etched into your face as he gasps in faux offense. 

“You wound me, Sugar.�� Isn’t it usually the unexpected adventures that turn into something unforgettable?” Eddie couldn’t lie to himself, he was laying it on pretty thick, but it was all in hopes that maybe, just maybe you might come home with him. 

“Well, I do have to admit you are intriguing, maybe I’ll take you up on this adventure.” It was childish, the way your heel-clad foot slid its way past the single, center leg of the table and halfway up the man’s calf. 

When he feels your foot rubbing on him, he has to steel his face. One of his hands slipped from the table and slithered its way down his leg and caught your foot. “What do you say we get out of here?” His hands were so big and his fingers so long that they wrapped with ease around your ankle. The pads of his fingers pressed in gently and you hoped he couldn’t feel how fast your pulse were thumping throughout your body. 

Your mouth suddenly turned dry, words evaded you. All you could do was nod in response. He let go of your foot and stood, reaching out his hand. You take it and he pulls you up as well. “My name’s Eddie by the way.” 

…

The drive to Eddie’s suburban home was filled with chase touches and lingering hands. His large palm warmed your thigh, his fingers dug into the plushness there. You cozied up to him, lips trailing up his neck to his ear where you nibbled on the lobe. 

Eddie groaned as he white-knuckled the steering wheel. His breath caught in his throat when you inched a delicate hand into his lap. 

“Now, little girl, don’t be starting something you can’t finish.” He chided. His hand on your thigh moved ever closer to the already high hem of your dress. 

“Little girl?” you whisper into his ear. “I’m not a little girl, old man.”

You feel every bump and jerk of his 1960s Ford pickup as he practically jumps the curb and slams the brakes in his driveway, screeching to a halt. Eddie unfastened his seatbelt and turned to you. His hand immediately found purchase on the back of your neck and he pulled you in for a kiss. His lips were soft and plump and his beard tickled. You giggled into the kiss but that was cut short when they turned to gasps as soon as Eddie caressed his tongue into your mouth. 

“Eddie…” You moan into him, fingers latched onto his shirt, pulling him into you. 

“What is it, Sweetheart?” He pulled away from the kiss. 

You looked him in his eyes, the street lamp outside aiding in deepening their already dark hue. “Touch me. Need you to touch me.” 

He smirked. “Alright baby, I’ll touch you.” 

Then, he backed away, hooking you from himself and slipping out the door. A pout worked its way onto your features as he walked around and opened your door. Tisking he shook his head. “What’s the frown for sugar?” 

You took his outstretched hand, he was ever the gentleman. “You stopped kissing me.” 

Leaning down he gave you a sloppy peck on the lips. “Well, I can't touch you how you want, Sweetheart, unless we go inside.” He chortled as he guided you to his front door. As soon as the lock was undone and the knob twisted, you pushed the two of you inside. You were hot and worked up and needed something to help the pounding ache that had made itself known between your thighs. 

Inside, you try your best to tug Eddie’s shirt up and over his head but he is quick to catch your hands, pushing you back against the wall and holding them above your head. 

“Not so fast. You’ve got to ask for the things that you want.” 

You shake your head in defiance. You knew where this was going from the way he gripped your wrists. From the way his voice became stricter, more dominant. Need pools in the pit of your stomach. This was what you had been craving, what no other man could make you feel. 

“Please.” Your plea comes out just above a whisper. 

“Tsk, Sweetheart, I think you can do better than that.” Eddie maneuvers both your wrists into the hold of one hand while he lets the fingers of his other run down the open skin of your neck tantalizingly slowly. Goosebumps begin to prickle on your skin as the fingers wander down your chest and over the tops of your breasts, cleavage on display, heaving as you take sharp breaths of air. 

“Please, Eddie.” Voice cracking. “Please, I want you. I want you to touch me, I want to feel you.” 

He groans, hips pressing you to the wall harder. “What a good girl you are.” He captures your lips in another heated kiss.

The night had barely begun and you already felt like you were drowning in him. The scent of menthol cigarettes, whisky, and something almost woody filled your nose and all you could think of was the man pinning you to the wall.

A staggered gasp caught in your throat when Eddie dropped your wrists and heaved you up by the waist. Your legs cinched around him and his arms held you close. “Why don’t we take this to my room? I can put some nice mood music on.” He kissed up your neck as he carried you through his home. 

“Mood music, hum?” You whimper when he sucks on a sensitive spot. “What, gonna play the Temptations greatest hits? Or how about the Chordettes? Don’t they have that song with your name in it?” 

You yelp when his hand smacks your ass. “M’not that old, Sweetheart. It’s more like eighties rock ballads but that’s not what I’m choosing.” The smirk that contoured his lips was wicked. 

“Mmm, and how old are you?” You ask, words muffled by your lips meeting his. 

“Old enough.” Eddie pushes his door open and it hits the wall with a thud. He walks to his bed in the darkness and practically throws you on top of the sheets. He doesn’t follow, instead, he flips the bedside lamp on and the room fills with a soft yellow light. 

His room isn’t what you thought it would be. It's all dark colors, blacks and grays. Three electric guitars hang like decorations on the wall in front of you. A few picture frames are scattered over the dresser to your left, too far to see the images clearly in the dim light. You watch him like a hawk as he walks to that very dresser and turns on a speaker. 

He really wasn’t kidding about the mood music. You think. 

“Get comfortable Sugar… Just got to figure out this damn phone.” You chuckle as you watch him fiddle with the touchscreen and cheer when the music fills the silence. You laugh even louder when Eddie fumbles the phone in his hands and drops it to the floor. “Shit.” He bends down to pick it up and when he does he props it against the mirror of the dresser. 

“Is it okay?” You ask, hand covering the giant smile plastered on your face. 

“It’ll live.” He shakes his head. When the giggles die down, he slowly comes toward you, crawling up the bed. The way his hands travel up your bare legs gives you chills. He pries you open gently, your dress hikes up your thighs, and the wetness of your pussy is on full display. 

“Well, aren’t you a naughty girl… No panties?” He asks, hot breath on the inside of your thigh as he nips at the skin. 

You shake your head as you explain. “No, not wearing a bra either. You can see the outline through the dress” 

He grins a devilish grin and slowly teases his way up your thigh. The hot air from his breath caresses your skin white his beard tickles you. He pushes back your dress a little more before looking you in the eyes. “Ready?”

The whine that comes from you is almost unrecognizable, all desperate and needy when his mouth attaches itself to your pretty cunt. Your hand flies to his head, gripping his silky hair between stiff fingers. 

“Fuck. E-Eddie.” You rasp. He hums the vibrations add to the cacophony of pleasurable feelings between your legs. 

Eddie’s tongue rolls along your folds, wetting every inch of skin. The gentle sucks he performs on your clit pull moan after moan from you. Your back arches and your hips push down into the bed. Eddie’s hands push your thighs farther apart, the plush of them pooling through his spread fingers. 

He loves the feel of you. Loves that he can make you writhe under him with just his tongue. His ego is through the roof, having not been this intimate with someone in years. 

It's been all but a few minutes, to you its been hours, Eddie is expertly working you up up up and to the edge. One hand smoothes down your leg and under his chin. You feel the subtle touches of his fingers as they linger around your cunt. His other hand pushes your leg back more, creating more room. You heave a cry when two fingers breach you, stretching you out at a leisurely pace. 

In and out, in and out, in and out he went, fucking you deeply with those long thick fingers of his, covered in rings. The metal soon became warm as they began to be covered in your slickness and his spit that dribbled down to meet them.

With the way his fingers pushed up into your walls, poking the fire in your belly. The ember that it once was, was not a full-on flame. It was wild and hot and needed something more to feed on. 

“Eddie!” You cried, clamping down around him. Body ridged, ready to let go. 

“That’s right baby, say my fucking name.” He pulled back only to reattach to your clit and pump his fingers tenfold. 

His words were tender to the flame, making it rage out of control. “Eddie!” You cried again, wonton moans following as you feel the fire spreading. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you chant like a prayer. 

He’s greedy as he laps up every ounce of your release, you have to push him away gently, too sensitive for him to keep going but the crooked smirk he gives you as he kisses up your body tells you he wants more. 

Your breathing is rapid as you come down. Your legs feel like jello and you’re hot, super hot. The fire in your veins had rekindled and the dress, conforming to your body, was becoming uncomfortable in the heat. 

Eddie can see the way you tug at the garment and gives it a tug of his own. “I hate to see this little number go but I need to see all of you.” He manhandles you onto your stomach, snatching the tiny red zipper and pulling it down to reveal the soft skin of your back. 

His hands rub into your muscles, thumbs catching on knots and smoothing them out. It was intimate, something you had never experienced in a one-night stand. He removed the tiny straps from your shoulders and kneaded until you were sighing contently into his sheets. Lower and lower he went, tugging the fabric with him and eventually taking it off, throwing it into the abyss. Rough fingers squeezed at the fat of your ass. 

Unknowingly, Eddie had bent down, and as he was massaging you bit down playfully on your ass cheek. A weak squeal erupts from your throat. “Eddie, what are you doing?” 

“I can’t help it if you look good enough to eat.” He bites down again and you buck your hips back. A hand quickly smacks down on your ass. “Quit being a brat. First not asking for what you want and now this? What am I going to do with you?”  Condescension drips thickly from his words. 

You wiggle your hips in his grasp. “M’sorry.” 

Another smack. “I’m sorry what?” 

The fire burns brighter with this fuel.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.”

He spanks you a third time. “Try again, baby.”

Your stomach flips. “I’m sorry… Sir.”

He hums in satisfaction. His hands wrap around you and pull you to your knees, ass in the air. With your head buried in the covers, you can only guess what he’s doing by the subtle movements behind you. 

Eddie has taken his shirt off and unzipped his pants. His cock achingly hard and straining against his black boxers. “Gonna fuck this pussy good, baby.” You whimper in response. He shickers, “You like that, Sweetheart? You want my cock in that pretty pussy of yours?” 

“Please,” You mewl, aching to finally have him inside you. The roughness of his hand steadies you as he inches closer. His hard cock on the other hand. He presses it against your folds, the head slipping through easily. You release a shaky breath when he nudges your clit. “Need you inside, please Sir.”

“Gonna give it to you baby,” Eddie replies, pushing into you. His breathing shudders at the warmth surrounding him. Your cunt squeezes him tightly, sucking him in and not letting him go. 

He feels amazing stretching you out. He's bigger than you thought, wider. The tip pushes into your walls as he begins to thrust into you, the most wonderful grunts and growls filling your ears from behind. 

"So fucking tight, Sugar." Eddie fucks into you at a hard brushing pace with stamina you didn't know he had. His hands grip your hips so hard you know there will be visible marks there later but you don't mind. 

You turn your head slightly and look over your shoulder as best you can. Eddie has a wild look in his eye, streaks of gray hair falling into his face. Your eyes catch on the plethora of ink etching his skin. You had seen the ones covering his arms but you couldn't have imagined this. Your mind wandered to what the rest of his body looked like. We're there more pieces yet to be seen or did alabaster skin win out as you go further down his body? The thought of seeing the rest of him has you bouncing your ass back into him, meeting his every thrust with fervor. 

The fire Eddie had lit within you was once again roaring out of control. The way his cock filled you deep has you shaking in delight. 

"More, more, more," you called out to him, fists clamping down onto his sheets so hard it was a wonder you hadn't ripped them. 

“More? Is that what you want?” He patronizes. His right hand moves from your hip and he bends forward, snatching your hair up at the base of your skull. The dull throb that accompanies his tight hold has you wailing. Your stomach flips and flips, pressure building up. You’re going to cum and you tell him as much. 

“Please, keep going Eddie, fuck. Keep going, I’m gonna cum, Sir.” Big blubbery tears have started to streak down your face, once pristine makeup now smeared. 

He pulls on your hair. ‘Don’t cum baby. Wanna watch that pretty face as you cum on my cock.” 

Eddie pulls out of you and it feels like forever until you are flipped onto your back and he inserts himself back inside. The new angle has your legs clamping shut around him and the head of his cock brushing against a sensitive spot which makes you keen into him.

You make eye contact with him, his gaze is feral. He’s looking at you like you’re a buffet laid out for him. His hips rock into you with such force that your body is slowly jerking up the bed. You reach out for him, hands open and close, needing to have him close to you. That fire is still burning within you and it is scorching. 

Eddie leans into your touch, relishing in the feeling of your nails dragging long scratches down his pecks and stomach. He catches one, entwining his fingers with yours and pinning your hand back into the mattress. Another intimate moment that had butterflies erupting alongside your fire. 

“Please,” you whimper. “Wanna cum so bad.” 

He leans down more, pressing a chased kiss on your lips. “Alright Sweet girl, you can cum.” 

When you let go, Eddie can’t help the absolutely hedonistic moan that comes forward. He’s rutting into your constricting cunt like an animal. The look of absolute ecstasy that washes over your face had him fighting off his own release. 

“Where do you want it, Baby? Where do you want my cum?” 

It’s absolutely crazy, the place that comes to mind, but some deep, dark, nefarious place inside you wants it so badly. Craves is. 

Without thinking, brain foggy with a greediness only comparable to the deadly sin itself, you blurt, “Inside.” 

Eddie’s hips stutter and his mind goes blank. Inside? Fuck, She wants it inside. He groans, fighting himself. He shouldn’t but he wants to. Oh, how he wants to. Thoughts of what your pussy would look like leaking his cum have him going ridged, his conscience losing out against a primal need he didn’t know he had. 

“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck ah!” He’s a moaning mess when he finally gives in and lets himself cum. 

You can feel his release as a warmth spreads out from your tummy and envelopes you. Eddie falls careful not to let all of his weight squish you. His kisses make you giggle as you try and catch your breath. 

You’re exhausted, warn out in a way you never have been. “Thank you,” you say, kissing him back. He looked at you with soft, round eyes.

“Why are you thanking me, Sweetheart?” 

You sigh, content. “You saved me from a night of wallowing in my self-pity.”

He shakes his head. “Beautiful girl like you deserves to be treated right, that guy’s a bastard.” 

“Tha-” You’re cut off by the loud ringing of his phone, still connected to the speaker.  Eddie cringes at the volume and turns slightly to eye the phone but does not move to get up. It stops ringing a moment after. 

“I think I should get going…” You whisper and give him another kiss. 

“Mmm, you could stay the night. I can take you back to your car tomorrow.” 

You pout at him. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Sweetheart, I’m asking you to stay, you aren't imposing on anything.” 

You giggle and go to answer but you are interrupted by his phone ringing again. Eddie says quietly, “What the hell?” before pulling himself out of you. He hesitates a moment, watching as his cum leaks past the puffy, used lips of your cunt, then grabs at his phone. 

‘HARRINGTON’ Is flashing across the screen. 

“What do you want man? I’m in the middle of something.” 

Eddie still has his phone connected to the speaker and the next few sentences make Your smile fall and your face bloom into a heat that could rival the sun. 

“Oh, I know you are. Half the fucking world does you dipshit!” 

“Wow okay Steve, calm down. No need for name-calling.”

“Eddie I swear to god, do you know what you’ve just done?” 

“No…?” Eddie scratches his head, looking at you and shrugging his shoulders. 

“You just fucking broadcasted you having fucking sex LIVE on fucking Facebook!”

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Hear me out…

2nd part of that time travel thing you did today except reader and current James end up going back in time with 90s James and 90s James getting much better at sex and properly fucking the reader how she likes it just for her to accidentally call him “daddy” instead which gets current James jealous and pissed so he just practically forced 90s James off reader and fucks her like he actually means it

A/n: Going through every era of James with this prompt /j unless

Warnings: Smut, size kink, daddy kink, jealousy, possessiveness, oral (m receiving), spanking, age gap, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Part 1 Part 3

Oddly enough, it wasn't your first time bent over a table, not even your first time bent over a table in James's dressing room, but it was still strange to have the boyfriend you recognized watching over you while a younger version of himself rammed into you.

Your naked body bounced on the plastic table beneath you, one of James's hands was in your hair, bunching it in his fist so he could move you however he liked. His other hand was on your hip, only letting go to smack your ass. There were sure to be some confusing bruises to explain... not that anyone should be looking.

"Fuck, she's so tight." James grunted, snapping his hips at a brutal pace, a melodic groan leaving him. He just got off stage and found you in his room with some guy -it was strange to see your older self sucking face with your future partner, especially when they're so fucking hot, he couldn't keep his eyes, or hands, to himself with you.

James wore that black t-shirt and matching black armbands, jeans bunched at his ankles. His long hair had less volume now, that with his new facial hair, something about it made him look like a lion, one who was ready to ravage you.

"Not usually tight." The silver headed man said with a chuckle. He sat on the couch not far away, it wasn't a very big room. He wore a white shirt, blue jeans pushed down while he palmed himself through his boxers.

The younger snorted, staring down at where your bodies connected, watching how you kept sucking him back in for more. "Yeah, well, maybe you're just not doing it right."

James shot him a look. "If she's tight it means she's not fucking enjoying it, dumbass." He stated, hand momentarily stopping on his length. The other ignored him, head falling back in a groan.

Your body was heating up, neglected clit pulsing as tightening the knot in your gut. "Hah-ah! Oh, fuck, so-so fucking- god!" You moaned, gripping the edge of the table so tight your knuckles went white. Finally, he angled his dick just right and you gasped, brushing that high that was quickly approaching. "Daddy!" You cried.

James, the older of the two, paused. The other let out a loud laugh, letting it add to his already above average ego. "Sweetheart," the silver fox spoke, voice low and gravelly as he took a few steps nearer, "say it again."

"Oh, I'll make her say it again." James nearly punched himself, but that seemed like a bad idea in multiple timelines. Instead he took advantage of the fact that he was much bigger and stronger, yanking the younger off of you and knocking him to the wall.

You whined at the sudden lack of friction, that high being ripped from you when you were so incredibly close. You stood up, leaning on the table to keep yourself standing after your knees buckled.

The older grabbed James by the collar of his shirt and held him to the wall. "Fucking bitch, thinking he's better than everyone, thinking he can fuck anything close to right." He spat, eyeing the man. "You look fucking pathetic right now."

"Jamie," you spoke breathlessly, "your dicks are touching and I don't wanna find out how incest babies work in this universe." They both stared at you like you just turned into a cow in front of their eyes.

"C'mere." James said, dropping his younger self and going to you. "Lemme show junior over there what it is to be a daddy." His voice got gradually lower as he leaned into you, lips connecting with your.

He lifted you back onto the table, pulling you right to the edge. He pushed into you slow, letting you get used to the stretch, not that it was much different to younger James. One hand went to your hip, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you tight to his chest.

He held the kiss as he started moving, keeping a steady and rough pace. It's just what you were used to, and you preferred it because he knew where to hit every time, how to make you vision go white. You moaned and whined into the kiss, arms wrapped around him and clawing at his tatted back, broad shoulders marked with battle scars from you.

The younger kept trying to push his way back but James would just elbow him away, effectively silencing his complaints until he was left with just his hand and the view of your sweat slicked body trembling from another man.

The hand on your hip moved to your thigh, thumb going to your clit and rubbing you. You gasped, heading falling back and ending the kiss. James didn't care and moved to your neck, nuzzling into you and marking up the side, sucking and nipping until you were screaming for him. "Daddy! Oh my fucking god, I-ah, cah-! Can't!"

"That's it, that's a good girl, come for daddy, be a good girl and cum on daddy's dick." He encouraged. Your eyes rolled back, a wave of pleasure crashing over you and your body shook, that high you'd been chasing finally hitting you full force. "Oh, there it is, that's good, isn't it?" He mused, kissing your temple and cheek, holding you up right during your post-sex ragdoll stage.

"Fuck, just-just gimme a-a minute or something." The younger asked, tone bordering begging, hand rocketing up and down his achy, leaky length.

James chewed his cheek, thinking it over a moment before picking you up and carrying you over to the couch, getting you on your knees but you face planted into the leather cushions.

"Perfect like that, isn't she?" The blond mused, caressing your cheek with his fingers. He got on the couch in front of you and lifted your head so your lips were pressed against his tip.

"Definitely pretty like this." The older said in agreement, smiling down at you, pushing back into you from behind.

You always told yourself your wanted to be surrounded by James, filled with him. You'd rather be more conscious when it happened, at the same time you don't know if you could handle it, feeling this stuffed.

[strawhbrrries]

Ride, Cowgirl.

pairing: dbf!southern!frank castle x afab!reader

summary: neither of you can keep last night off your mind, needing more Frank finds comfort in your room.

warnings: age gap (reader is 22, frank is 52), use of pet names, dirty dirty thoughts!!!, mention of a divorced dad?, fingering, sex!!, praise kink asf, oral (f receiving), soft frank, reader calls him frankie accidentally, frank making noise in bed, riding like a cowgirl!!, bearded frank <3, no mentions of y/n, no descriptions of reader, not proofread

word count: 3514 words

author’s note: I’m in love with darlin’ and frank, they are simply the lomls currently. anyway, the end gives the perfect set up for a third part if it is desired!! In the meantime, it’s 1;30 am for me and I need sleep!! please enjoy &lt;3

read the first part cowgirl ! and the next part cowboy hats !

Boyfriend by COIN played on the speaker your dad, conveniently, left outside as you laid on one of the pool loungers.  Thoughts of Frank consuming your mind, thoughts of his hands and his voice and the way he smelled and how he looked pain that he couldn’t fuck you in the backseat of his truck. Your fingers finding themselves rubbing the side of your neck, the very spot Frank had found comfort. 

“So how did last night go?” Tiff asked, hanging over the side of the pool to look at you. Your heart raced, did she find out? How would she? Did you accidentally call her when you were panting his name like it was the only word you knew? The way you froze as she asked a simple question, immediately made her suspicious of you.

“Huh?” You asked, in hopes of getting her to elaborate just a bit so you could come up with the lie of your life. Or maybe, you should confide in her. She is your girl for life, it’s not like she’s gonna judge you for doing it. If anything, she’d praise you and beg for details.

“After I left? How did the rest of the night go? Your dad doesn’t have the most interesting friends on the planet. All they talk about is work and their lack of wives.” She rolled her eyes, laying her head on her hands and kicking her legs in the water. 

“Actually…” You smiled, bringing your knees up to your chest to hide behind them as the blush spread across your body.

“Oh. My. God. Hold on!” She rushed to climb out of the pool, dripping water all over you as she sat on the opposite end of the lounger. If gossiping was a team sport, the two of you would have ten gold medals, if anyone asked you weren’t necessarily talking shit but simply saying how you felt about people.

“So, after you left, Frank and I went to the gas station and I asked if he had been with anyone younger. I don’t know what got into me, Tiff! He just looked so…godly. I wanted to jump his bones the second I came downstairs from changing.” You covered your face with your hands and groaned, the blush was probably becoming permanent at this point. You were going to be bright red for the rest of your life.

“Your dad’s best friend?! Holy shit dude. C’mon spill!” She laughed, prying the hands off your face and sitting expectantly. You were beyond grateful for the fact she wasn’t judging you and was actually interested. Maybe that was a bad thing, you didn’t care.

“Anyway, he said ‘Not yet’ and I was in shock or something! So, I reached over and kinda did a weird caress thing to his beard. I was flyin’ by the seat of my swimsuit, I’ve never been with a man who has any sort of facial hair. But he kissed me, and I mean like Really kissed me.i’ve never been kissed like that before, Tiff. Mind blowing.” Unbeknownst to you, the very man you were speaking about had walked out the back door and could hear the whole conversation. His chest swelled with pride, in some fucked up way he was glad no one had ever kissed you like that. It meant there was a lot more he could do way better than any of the other people you’d been with, and he’d be damned if he didn’t ruin you for any other man out there.

“Your dad is about to come out here, suggest you find somethin’ else to talk ‘bout.” He hollered at the two of you, your head whipping around so fast it was a miracle you didn’t give yourself whiplash, chuckling at the way your eyes widened when you realized he had heard you talking about him. “Quit speakin’ so damn loud anyway, sure the whole neighborhood heard.”

Frank didn’t truly mean what he said, he would love to listen to you retell the story of your escapades, what he didn’t want was your father to hear and put two and two together. He didn’t need to get into some shitty mess with the one constant in his life, he owed more to your dad than he cared to admit and ruining that friendship would send Frank to an early grave. That in no way meant he regretted what he did last night, and everything else he planned to do. He simply wanted to go about all this in a way that wouldn’t cost him his friendship but still gives him his girl, gives him you. He prayed for the first time last night, and he really truly prayed, for a situation where it all works out and he’s not back to square one. With nobody. Again. 

“Thanks for the warning, Mr. Castle.” Tiff shouted back, a smug smile playing on her face, giving him a small wave. She nudged your shoulders, giggling at the whole situation. All you wanted to do was shrink and disappear, you couldn’t be more embarrassed. You felt small and helpless, your best friend thought it was hilarious. God if you can hear me, please kill me.

You spent the whole morning thinking about him and the consequence of what you did, how would your next interaction go? Would it be weird? Would he pretend it never happened, that he wasn’t dying to have you right then and there. Yet, here you were no true interaction but you were the one cowering away from it. You were the one trying to pretend like it didn’t happen, when truthfully you wanted to shout it from the rooftops and let everyone know who had given you the best orgasm of your life.

“I’m going to shrink to the size of ant and drown myself in the fuckin’ pool, Tiff. I swear to god.” You slouched as far down in the lounger as you could, squeezing your eyes closed in some desperate attempt to make it all disappear. “Of course he would be here right now.”

“Ants don’t have lungs, they can’t technically drown. Besides, it’s not like he came out here and murdered you, all he did was tell you to be quieter. He also made no indication or mention of last night, so stop lettin’ that pretty head of yours go wild.” Tiff rubbed her hand soothing up and down your arm, she knew better than anyone the way your mind would take someone breathing at you and interpret it as they hate you and want you dead. That’s why she worked so well with you, the sane and grounded to your wild and anxious. 

“I don’t think it would matter even if he did, the principle of it all is what’s causing my worries. Do you think worry dolls are still a thing? I could most definitely use one right now.” A groan once again left your mouth, your eyes opening and searching for the older man who was carrying planks of wood across your backyard. Your father walked out of the house, giving you and Tiff a wave before hollering at Frank about whatever they were building.

The whispers and giggles coming from the two of you were intriguing Frank, he wanted to know exactly what you were telling her and what you were intentionally leaving out. He wanted to know if you were even talking about him, or if she was telling you the real reason that I just left abruptly last night. Because he knew, he wouldn’t say anything to you about it unless you brought it up first, but he knew. The work in front of him was becoming increasingly less interesting, he was so close to telling your dad to throw in the towel and call it a day. He didn’t even know what he was building anymore, he truthfully didn’t care but your dad did. That was enough for him to keep going.

“Those two have been out all day, shockin’ they’re not burnt or nothin’.” Your dad commented, planting his shovel in the ground and leaning against it. He smiled your way, not that you noticed as you were preoccupied with Tiff. You were his pride and joy, his baby. He’d murder anyone for you, it was a part of the reason you never brought anyone home. 

“‘M not shocked. Last summer, I’m not sure either one of em spent any more than twenty minutes inside. Make sure she- they wear sunscreen, don’t need em getting skin cancer.” Frank was quick to correct himself, not that your dad would’ve found anything wrong with his original statement but he was covering all his bases. Not that he didn’t care for the other girl, Tiff was her name? He didn’t need to know her name, not when he knew yours. 

“I’ll make sure to pick some up from the store the next time we make it to the grocery, I know my girl wears some. Not sure ‘bout her friend.” His girl. The words made Frank irrationally angry, you were his daughter but the thought of someone else staking claim over you drove him mad. One night with you and he was acting, and thinking, like you were his wife. Wife. No.

Frank had met your father when you were nineteen, hadn’t met you until you were twenty. It wasn’t like he was truly doing anything wrong but he was going to fight a never ending mental battle about you. Going through every hoop to tell himself neither of you was doing anything wrong, that you weren’t going to be in trouble for your actions. That it was, simply, okay.

The sun was setting, the breeze taking over and raising the hair on your skin. You truly had been outside all day, with sunscreen reapplied every hour or so, you were bound to find a few sunburnt spots in your shower. You exchanged goodbyes with Tiff and made your way to your room to start the nightly routine you had adopted since being home, switching the bluetooth from the speaker outside to the one inside your room. You opened the window, your music slowly starting to dance with the breeze, when a soft knock on your door grabbed your attention.

“Hey cowgirl.” Frank whispered, just barely loud enough to be heard over your music, making his way into your room and studying it. Committing all the bits and pieces of it to his memory.

“I’m so sorry about earlier, if you don’t want me to tell Tiff anymore I won’t. I just, I tell her everything and I needed to tell someone.” Your cheeks slowly started turning pink, Frank thought you were cute like that.

“Don’t apologize, darlin’. I didn’t care, just warnin’ ya ‘bout your dad is all.” He walked closer to you, his height very apparent, your head the perfect height for his chest. He brought a finger up to your cheek, dragging it down before tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“I appreciate it, I know how much he means to you.” No you didn’t. He knew you knew a small bit not enough to truly understand what the two of you meant to him. He would be forever indebted to your father if it meant keeping you, if it meant holding you and kissing you. Consuming himself with you.

“So pretty.” He truly whispered, admiring every inch of your face, leaning down to kiss you. Your heart stopped, he didn’t regret it? He thought you were pretty?

You decided to stop fucking thinking for once and enjoy it, leaning up to meet him halfway in the kiss. Threading your fingers through his hair, much like he did with yours in his truck. One his hands held the side of your face while the other tucked itself into the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms, rubbing at the indentation it left from being worn all day. 

“Ready to ride, cowgirl?” He asked, pulling away from the kiss enough to nip at your jaw as he waited for an answer. He wouldn’t be mad if you said no, he would be patient and wait until you were, but he went home and fucked his hand like a horny teenage boy at the thought of you on top of him.

A whimper is all you managed to respond with, your mind momentarily thinking about your dad but was interrupted by the softness of your mattress touching your back. 

“Goddamn swimsuits, prancing around in practically nothing.” He remarked, still standing as he eyed your body. His finger snapped the strap of your bottoms, smirking at the sound before he dragged them down your legs. 

“What’s your favorite color?” You asked softly, making him burst into laughter. 

“For what?” He responded, controlling his laughter at the fact you would ask that right now. 

“So I can wear one that color the next time you’re over.” You smiled, looking up at him. Somehow he looked even prettier from this angle, if that was possible. 

“Uh, probably red.” He gave a bit of thought before responding, curious to know if you would actually be wearing a bikini the next time you saw him. At your house, anyway. 

He stashed the bikini bottoms in his back pocket, pulling you to the edge of the bed by your ankles and getting down on his knees. Frank thanked all the heavens and the stars for the meal he was about to eat right before licking a stripe through your folds and sucking on your clit. The stimulation instinctively caused your thighs to close, causing him to force them back open and lay one arm across a leg with his hand splayed across your stomach.

He moaned.

He moaned.

Frank moaned, was he enjoying this as much as you were? Were there any downsides or faults to this man? 

He moved his mouth closer to your clit, paying almost all his attention to it as he inserted his middle finger slowly. A wanton moan making its way to his ears, he thought everything about you was pretty. If he wasn’t rock hard when he took your bottoms off, he definitely was now. The stretch in his jeans was not entirely comfortable, it truthfully wouldn’t be able to accommodate much more. 

“Frank, Frankie, please..” 

Did you just- did he imagine that? He’d never had anyone call him that before, but it sounded so damn good coming from your lips.

“What, pretty girl? Use your words for me. Tell Frankie what you need.” 

“‘M so close, please need more.” You whined, to him it even sounded a bit like you were going to cry. He’s bet his life savings you were a pretty crier, a pretty anything. He just wanted to look at you. Always.

All he wanted to do was pull out his phone and record the pleas and the moans coming from you, to listen to later if you were ever ripped from him and he didn’t get to experience this, experience you, ever again. If it weren’t for your fucking music. He was thankful for it, blocking your sounds from anyone in the house. He added his ring finger into the mix, relishing in the sound you made. You were his drug, he truly was addicted. He needed his next fix before this one was over. 

Moments after he sped up his fingers and added more pressure to your clit, your orgasm ripped through you. Body shaking, eyes rolling back. This was better than the one he gave you last night. You’d never be able to touch yourself ever again, not the way he did. You didn’t think anyone could ever compare now that Frank had touched you. 

By the time you came to, he had discarded his clothes and was on top of you. He pulled you into a kiss, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip and groaning into your mouth when you let him in. His tongue explored every inch of your mouth while his fingers explored every inch of your body. 

“I don’t have a condom.” He confessed.

“Don’t care, on the pill. Frankie please, I need you inside of me right now. Need your cock, frankie..please.” The sound of you begging for him had his ego going through the roof, the fact that anyone could want or need him this bad was mind blowing. 

He rubbed his cock through your folds, kissing you a bit more before he pushed the tip in. Your mouth opening in a gasp. You knew he was big, you saw the imprint in the truck yesterday. But this was different, the stretch hurt in a delicious way that you needed more of. He waited a moment before pushing in a bit more, toying with your clit and peppering your face with kisses to distract you.

He bottomed out, you had never felt so full in your life. You swore he was in your stomach, taking rearranging your guts to a new level. He stayed still, letting you get used to his size. He didn’t want to hurt you, too much.

“Frankie move.” 

Your wish was his command. His thrusts started slowly, building up in speed as he went. It was at this point, you realized Frank Castle was not quiet in bed. He wasn’t necessarily loud either, but he was groaning in your ear. The grunts and the groans were spurring you on, your moans and whimpers were doing the same for it. It was a cycle, and if either of you had your way it would never end. 

“Sound so damn pretty. Makin’ all these noises for me, huh? My pretty girl, my girl.” He put all his weight on his forearms, lifting himself enough to look you in the eyes, his hair falling out of place and onto your face. He was gorgeous, especially like this. Raw. Vulnerable. Just for you. 

“Your girl, yours.” You babbled, too busy reeling in the feeling of his cock driving in and out of you. How his bare skin feels on yours. His voice praising you. Calling you pretty. 

“That’s right, such a good girl.” His praises continued, some of them too muffled for you to hear as he sucked on your collarbone. Or your neck. Any exposed skin he could get in his mouth. 

Without pulling out, he flipped the two of you over so you were on top. Riding him. Cowgirl. 

“C’mon cowgirl, ride me. You can do it baby.” He lifted your hips up and placed them back down to get you started, placing your hands on his chest for you.  He slipped one of your boobs out of the top, you were still wearing, and put your nipple in his mouth. Rolling the bud between his teeth, enjoying the new sounds he managed to get.

You placed your weight on your hands, positioning your legs right, and lifted back up. He was somehow even deeper than before, it was almost overwhelming. His pelvic bone was hitting your clit just right every time you came down, accompanied by his groans, you were a goner. You fell into his chest as you felt your second orgasm start to rip through you, your words slurred as you told him to use you. You were his to use. 

Frank had been close since he put you on top, his self control had been wearing a bit thin. He fucked you through your orgasm, pistioning up inside you like his life depended on it. 

“Where do you want it, c’mon baby where?” He grunted, gritting his teeth as he tried to hold his release off. It was getting increasingly harder when your cunt was gripping him like that.

“Inside.” Is all you muttered out, half aware of your choice. You’d deal with it later. 

Not a moment later he painted your inside white, cummimg with a low and long groan. Relaxing his head completely against your pillows, taking deep breaths. You crumpled against his chest, just resting for a moment as he was still inside you. This was the most relaxed you’d been in ages, at some point you drifted off to sleep. 

You were awoken by the feeling of Frank cleaning you up and putting a blanket on top of you, obviously you knew he couldn’t stay. It still hurt. It hurt your heart, your soul, your everything. 

“Gotta go, pretty girl. I put my number in your phone. We’ll talk later.” His last sentence meant more than just texting you, you both knew it. At some point, lines had to be drawn or you had to fess up to your dad. But for now you’d live in delusion, in a world where you were in an established relationship and no one thought anything of it. He placed a kiss on your forehead, finished getting dressed and got up to leave. Stopping at the door he turned around to give you one last glance, you had already fallen back asleep. His cowgirl.

[legilimens-library]

I Promise

severus snape x reader

712 words

Severus made his way down to your shared chambers that resides in the dungeons after the long and tedious day he endured, wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of the evening in the comfort of your embrace. But he was also peeved at the discovery of what he bore witness to earlier, or rather the lack of what he discovered. He knew only one other person who would betray him so profoundly and he was about to confront the little thief.

Turning the doorknob diligently, he crossed the threshold of the room and glanced up to find you cuddled up in his favorite armchair, reading one of those cliché romance novels you adored so much under the warmth of the soft quilt he gifted you last Christmas. Severus couldn’t help but crack a tiny smile at the sight of you as you looked up from your book, a smile upon your face to match his own.

“Hello, my love. How was your day?” The sound of your voice broke his stupor and he was once reminded of his objective, his smile turning into the classic smirk he loved to use when he was plotting a certain demise.

“Oh, the same as usual. Those dunderheaded students of mine never cease to amaze me by the lack of their ambition to follow basic instructions.” Severus made his way to kneel in front of you, taking a hold of the forgotten tome that rested on your lap and placing it on the adjacent end table to hold your hands within his. “However, I did come across something earlier today that upset me a little.”

Your smile dropped at his words and he knew that you would worry over whatever was bothering him and want to help him make it right. Assuming that he had caught you by surprise, Severus’s smirk only grew wider at the look of confusion upon your facial features.

“I’m sorry to hear about that, sweetheart. Would you like to talk about it?”

“Indeed I do, my darling girl. But first…” Severus murmured before drifting closer towards you to capture your lips in a soft kiss, making you sigh at his affection.

His lips were cool to the touch by your connection, but they were always a welcome reminder of his love towards you. It wasn’t long before he tore himself away from you and began to kiss your cheeks and along your jaw, brushing away the few stray hairs that framed your face so he could reach the shell of your ear only to whisper:

“If you ever, ever eat my biscuits again, there will be severe consequences.”

Severus then leans back and he basks in the dawn of realization you were experiencing. Right there, that was all the satisfaction he needed and he caught you red-handed. But then you had the audacity to begin giggling at him as if to mock him for such a silly notion.

“Pray tell, my dear, but what is so amusing?” He found your reaction quite irksome, but then again, he started to chuckle along with you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Sev. I didn’t mean to laugh in your face, I was sure it was something far more serious. But I confess, it was me who who ate the last of your biscuits. That’s why I made a fresh batch for you as an apology.” You pointed to where the small kitchenette was and sure enough, on top of the counter, lies a plate of warm cookies you had only just let out of the oven before Severus came back from his office.

“Would you ever find it in your heart to forgive me, Sev?” Reaching out to cup his face with your hands, you stroke at his cheek gently. Locking his gaze with your doe like eyes, Severus takes a hold of one of your wrists and places a ginger peck at your palm and returns your smile. He’s not actually upset with you, but he could never resist your eloquent charm.

“Hmm, I suppose I will. But only if you promise to join me in bed for the rest of the night.” He has you laughing again with his simple request, and who would you be to deny him?

“I promise.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Night Moves 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, stealing, crime, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Many might complain for the short attention span of the male kind, but you can't agree. In your experience, their lack of focus is a blessing, a profit even. You just need to show them something shiny and let them trip over themselves. So far, that's worked for you.

You giggle, certain to push your chest out just so as your latest mark tells a lame joke. He's kind of cute behind the frameless glasses and questionable choice in facial hair. Easy, is how you'd describe him best.

He reaches across the bar to slide the drink he bought for you closer. You wink at him and pick it up, pouting just so before sipping from the brim.

He watches your lip, hypnotised by your act, by you. You touch the front of his button-up shirt, ignoring the sweat stains under the arms. He nervous and jittery like a puppy. You put your drink down and lean closer on your stool.

"So, IT, sounds interesting. I'm no good with tech," you call over the music, running your hand up and down his lapel. "Do you do house calls?"

"Well, um, I work in an office, I don't... install," he stutters as you play with his top button, flicking it undone and giving an 'oops' expression. He doesn't fix it as you sit back and take another drink. "But if you need something done, I could probably, er, help.”

"Oh yeah, you're so sweet," you dab your mouth with your knuckles daintily, your third drink of the night hitting just right. "How has someone not snatched you up?"

"Uh," he chuckles and looks around, "really?"

"Sure, honey," you touch his collar again, "you're a cutie."

He turns red, a shade to match his garish satin shirt. You're not sure who suggested that but you've seen worse. You drain your glass and fan yourself in the heat of the club.

"Oh, no," you say dramatically, "Jamie, I gotta hit the ladies..."

"Uh, yeah, that's fine, but er, it's Jake, whatever, I'll be here," he grins.

"Amazing," you snatch up your clutch, "I'll be right back, kay, baby."

You pull him close as you hover on the edge of the stool and plant one right on his lips. He's too stunned to react as he lets you kiss him sloppily. You let your hand wander down and snake it around him. You squeeze his ass and purr before popping your mouth off his and dragging your hand away.

"Don't go flirting with other sluts," you hop down off the stool and strut away, sure to swing your hips to distract from the plastic against your palm.

You bring your hand up as you turn down the hall towards the bathroom and admire the golden lettering of his credit card. The dumbass didn't even bother to put it back in his wallet after buying you a cocktail. You roll your eyes and tuck it away in your purse.

You enter the bathroom and check your reflection. You daintily touch your lashes to fix them as two drunken girls argue over the next sink. Twins, huh? Don't see that every day.

Time for a new mission. You hike your tits up and turn to check out your ass. You're not vain but you work hard to maintain your figure. It's part of your work, you have to keep everything in tiptop shape.

You head back out, swaying to the music as you blend back into the crowd. You stop to dance on a few guys, sizing them up as you toy with them. There's only so much BO you can put up with, even if they have a black card.

As you scope out the room, your eye is caught by two watching eyes. Bold and blue and alluring. Attraction is less than intrinsic with these things but damn if this man isn't stunning. You smile at him, tilting your head coyly as you look away.

When you look back, he's still staring. You bite your lip and push away from the guy trying to hump your ass. Animals. Actually, animals have survival instincts, these idiots are all too hammered to smell a fire.

You weave through the crowd as you keep your sights on the man in-- Gucci. Ooo, big spender. The jacket is sleek and cut perfectly to his form. He's fucking hot. You wouldn't mind doing more than fishing in his pockets.

You near, a bit shy as you twist your hands together, leaning on one heel. You bat your lashes as he angles his jaw, "hey."

"Um, hope I'm not stepping on someone else's territory," you grip your clutch tight, "I mean, you're too cute to be here alone."

"I could say the same," he counters, his eyes flicking up and down your body. "Thirsty?"

"I'm a bit parched," you answer.

"After you," he waves towards the bar.

You glance over and see Jamie or whatever looking for you. You smile and smush your lips together, smearing the gloss around.

"Actually, the bar upstairs has better drinks. Doesn't cheap out on the liquor."

"Lead the way," he shrugs.

You push your shoulders up so your chest bounces just a little and you turn on your stilleto. You pass between the bodies as he stays close behind, his shadow looming in the flashing lights. You head upstairs, certain that he's getting a good view of your ass, he might even be able to tell that you have no panties on.

You get to the next floor and head to the bar. The burly blond recognise you and gives a smile as he approaches. The handsome stranger rests his hand on your lower back as he leans over the bar top. "Scotch, and whatever the lady likes."

You order another gin and tonic with lime. You turn to the man as you wait for your drink, his hand dragging to your hip and lingering there. You admire the way his shirt clings to his broad chest.

"You from the city or visiting?" You ask.

"I'm in and out," he says evasively, "do I get a name, beautiful?"

"Roxy," you offer your alias, "and you, sexy?"

"Nick," he answers and he reaches in his jacket pocket and pulls out his wallet. He swipes his card as the bartender holds out the machine.

"Nick, I like that," you preen as he hands you your drink.

"Wanna sit down?" He asks.

You shrug and let him take you to a booth in the corner. You slide in close to him and set your drink down. He casually sips and stretches his arm over your shoulders. Okay, he means business. Maybe it's worth the long con.

"You come here a lot?" He asks as he leans in.

"When I'm bored. Unfortunately, I don't find much fun," you touch his thigh as you shift to face him, "maybe you can change that."

"Maybe," he rubs your shoulder as he draws you even closer, "you're walking around this place with your ass out... I might just have to put it to use."

You brush along his jaw and tilt your head to kiss him. You pull him into a deep embrace, running your hand up and down his chest as you moan into his mouth. He melts into you and you catch yourself doing the same.

Your hand wanders subtly across his jacket. You could probably get his wallet out right there, he has one of those ridiculously slim ones made of metal. Just a little–

His hand fists around yours as his lips part and he curls his arm tight around the back of your neck. You squeak, caught, and he presses his wet lips to your temple. You fucked up, you should've waited, you should've enjoyed that genuine bit of tension a little longer.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” he growls.

[neonmetro]

You made a mistake posting the Achaeans designs /vpos

YOU GUYS ALREADY KNOW I LOVE ACHILLES ( and patroclus, but this isn't about him ). HIS DESIGN IS SO COOL WHAT THE SIGMA...... I LIVE FOR THE GREEN SO MUCHHHH. THE COAT THAT SOMEWHAT GIVES MARCHING BAND VIBES, THE SPINE LOOKING DESIGN ON THE BACK, AND THE JEWELRY THAT GIVES MAJOR PEACOCK VIBESSSS......I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

Chat......can we congratulate my boy Diomedes for that glow up.....bro is GORGEOUS. THE RED COAT WITH THE FUR, I MIGHT AS WELL JUST PASS AWAY/silly AND THE HAIRRRRRR I LIVE FOR HIS HAIR ITS REALLY JUST SO AWESOME DUDE

And as much as I love all of them, I would like to give a special shout out to uly and Nestor.....Uly because, well, it's uly and Nestor because HOLY SHITTT THAT DESIGN MIGHT JUST BE PEAK........

I would love to write about all of them, but i don't want to make this ask super long, or else it'll just be my yapping. But in turn, give me all you got of these guys 🔥🔥🗣🗣

The Achaeans are just the butch lesbian assembly tbh...../j

-paris anon

HELP WHEN I FIRST READ THIS I THOUGHT I MADE A ACTUAL MISTAKE WHILE POSTING/DESIGNING THE ACHAEANS 😭😭😭😭

anyhoo sorry for the late response i haven't been able to sit down and ramble in a bit.... hope this is still worth the wait :')

ACHILLES HAD THE MOSTTTT AMOUNT OF THOUGHT INTO HIS REDESIGN (as in literal time. i still thought about the achaeans but achilles i had a literal mood board up dedicated to just Him)

his colors + jewelry were so fun to come up with. he only deserves the best color palette... pretty pretty princess of pthia

i saw this outfit/dress on lolitawardrobe and it screamed achilles to me 😭😭😭 i really wanted to incorporate the skeleton and marine animal together as a way to signify what's to come and his mother's origins (OH. AND HIS ANIMAL IS HECTOR'S DOLPHIN. HOPE THIS HELPS.)

THANK YOU SO MUCH. HE TRULY DID GLOW UP I HAVE NO IDEA HOW BUT I WOKE UP ONE DAY AND BLASTED HIM WITH THE YASSIFICATION JUICE. i really wanted to focus on the red eyes i put in his og design for better color balance...

also his fuck ass bangs 😭 i still like the full head kind of bangs but I'll prob keep it for just when he's going batshit insane

he did already have his braid but since i was already doing the bigger profiles for more details i wanted to emphasize it more...

RAGHDHDGEJWKE THANK YOU SO MUCH....

NESTOR HAS NO RIGHT TO BE THAT PRETTY. AND YET HE IS. #GIRLBOSS?

definitely upgraded that hairstyle + how i stylized his facial hair like girl... og nestor was kinda . let's say lacking .

nestor was kind of. color hell for me i'm ngl? for some reason i couldn't make up my damn mind on which colors go where? plus his grey hair... was kinda fucking me up... please old man... stop making me cry... (looking back my vocalization wasn't so bad it was mostly in my head but STILL)

for uly i really wanted him to have a diff silhouette but still vaguely look like outis lcb... i chose the trench coat bc omg kinda like penelope and also its just like pathos to mathos frfr but he would never really wear smth like that and it ended up way too similar to menelaus. then i thought FUCK OUTIS LCB SINNER CROPPED JACKET. WE WIN

though the 2nd image is kinda just a vague pass of the silhouette, i just needed him to be a lil more diff...

GRBRHRNRNVHN THANK YOU SO MUCH THOUGH!!! my beautiful butch assembly... its just business..........

[whoishotteranimepolls]

Shanks. Oh Shanks…

Yes he is kinda the guy on the beach who wasn’t lying about knowing karate.

When we meet him he’s relaxing/chilling/taking a breather in a little hidden away port to get away from the Navy. This is in a world where stories about Pirates (and many actual Pirates) are about how much chaos and pain and destruction they bring simply looking for treasure. But not Shanks and not in Foosha.

He puts people at ease because there is no reason to antagonize or bully the locals. He spends his days flirting it up at the bar. When someone does come looking for a fight, he’s not easily baited either. Some things aren’t worth it, a message he teaches Luffy. It takes a kidnapping for Shanks to step up and remind everyone that not only is he a real pirate, but a dangerous one at that.

He also has scars. Very sexy scars. And they don’t seem to turn him bitter or spur him on life. His facial scarring is a lesson about how there are people who will never fight fair and if you’re going to get anywhere you should recognize and respond appropriately. And they really give some character and contrast to him. I really can’t explain why. He also SCARIFICED HIS ARM FOR A CHILD. This man jumps into the ocean knowing full well there is a legit sea monster waiting for a snack and swims out to save a boy who had idolized him, acted out, and eaten Shanks’ treasure. What kind of Pirate risks life and limb for a kid who took their most powerful possession? THEN!! Then this man is able to TURN BACK THE SEA MONSTER WITH A LOOK. That’s all! Just a very intense look saying “you may be called a Sea King but I am an Emperor so get!” (Ps he’s not an emperor yet) And it works!!

Now yes, he is a total slut. I personally subscribe to a specific endgame ship where such behavior changes when he falls in love but man is always going to have his manwhore vibe. But they are the best? Like he’s not creeping or forceful about it. He knows he’s attractive and he knows what parties interested in a night (or so) of fun look like. And if he were in this world now or back during the golden age of piracy, I would be like “yeah walking STD” but it seems like everyone whose anyone in One Piece has a capable doctor. If he did catch something he’d appropriatly take care of it.

Shanks is also not completely irresponsible. Man is captain of a ship with a crew and fleet who like him and believe in him. He makes world altering decisions on the regular. He has been granted audiences with the 5 elders. He fights other Emperors. He’s been playing a long game. His first teacher was the Pirate King. Yes, Beckmann definitely keeps things on track at times but Shanks isn’t like a toddler running in all the directions at once. He’s got a plan and he’s been sticking to it. And it’s been working really well.

As for the showers: I personally never thought about it but…in the world of One Piece every ship is complete with all the luxuries of life. This means Red Force is bound to have baths/showers. Shanks isn’t a DF eater so he can take baths and I assume while he might not everyday he does regularly. Plus with a man whose identity/brand is tied to his hair, he’s not letting that get grimy and greasy and dirty. I do believe there is some dependable vanity here which Zoro would lack.

TLDR; Shanks may initially look like a scary threat based on reputation, build, and scaring, but he has a gift for putting people at ease so they see him as some beach bum. But right below that his dangerous aura is ready to burst out when needed (usually in aide of a friend/ally or for his plan). He is an intelligent man who knows what is happening in the World and a very talented swordsman. And the layer below is someone who clearly loves life and all the wonderful things it can offer.

In summary: he has a genuine peacefulness about him that makes him feel safe (when not actively fighting as I mean “peaceful” in relation to being capible of great violence.) and he’s just sexy as sin.

For context, they're responding to this post about Shanks

That's the dichotomy of shakes. He goes from complete dork

To the absolutely terrifying Emperor of the Sea.

People like to talk about the yesification and glow-up of most of the characters post-time skip. The most prominent glow-up to me was the dedorkification of shanks. That man was a complete dork for most of the pre-time skip. Now in Wano. What happened?

He's got a whole new jawline and everything

But at least he still has his dorky moments

[poppetsisters]

Now that my rage over the Doomcasting has simmered down, I just wanna gush over the Fantastic Four comi con stuff.

I'm not joking, when I heard that Michael Giacchino was doing the score, I SCREAMED. Not only is he famous for scoring The Incredibles, but he also did Speed Racer from 2008 which, if you haven't heard that score, it is one of the best scores for any film I've seen.

The period accurate footage is such a treat. I figured Matt Shakman's work on Wandavision was going to be indicative of what the Fantastic Four was gonna look like and yet it looks even better. I was nervous that Shakman's lack of feature film experience was gonna be a detriment, but his decades of work on TV gives him amazing instincts for character dynamics, which is one of the most important assets when making a Fantastic Four movie.

A lot of what we saw is pre-vis and may not actually be in the movie, but the retro-future vibe of the movie is perfect. The fact that MCU Fantastic Four is taking place in its own separate pocket away from all the bullshit really helps me feel excited for this movie. For once, the disconnectedness is something I'm EXCITED about, go figure.

Again, because it's pre-vis, not a whole lot of glimpses at The Thing's rocky form, in fact none of the powers were shown off for understandable reasons. I have no worries that The Thing is going to look good. As bad as Fant4stic was, The Thing looked pretty good in that film. Korg also never looked outright bad to me either, and they're probably gonna put more effort into how he looks anyway. Sue's powers are probably gonna be represented well seeing as invisibility is a really easy power to do VFX for. Fire graphics have come a long way as well, and that concept art makes me thing they may take a very stylised approach to his flame effects. Reed however is the one I'm really worried about. The only time stretch powers looked good was The Incredibles 1 and 2, but those were both stylised 3D animated filma. Live action has a much higher bar to clear with a heavy risk of uncanny valley Pedro Pascal. If you can make that man look bad, then you know you fucked up.

The Fantasticar is nice. We had the Dodge in Rise of Silver Surfer and the Bathtub in Deadpool and Wolverine, and though I like the Silver Surfer one (despite the shameless product placement) I get that they wanted a car that looked like a mid-century man's idea of what a flying car looks like. The only think is that I wish it could split apart into four sections, it doesn't look like it can do that. Oh well.

The spacesuits look good, the colours are exactly what I imagined they'd be on the concept art, but I'm waiting for the proper super suits to be shown off. Hopefully they have less interlocking parts and resemble the slightly thick and comfy spandex we saw in the concept art.

It looks like Pedro is keeping the moustache, which normally I'm not a fan of Reed with facial hair, but I also think it gives Reed a sorta Howard Hughes look that helps him blend in with the aesthetics of the world. The grey around the temples is good though, and it seems like he's also doing a transatlantic accent which frankly is very surprising.

I thought that Ebon wasn't doing an accent until I rewatched him during an interview. He appears to be toning down his natural tendency to draw out his A's and E's. It was only two lines of dialogue so I don't know, but what is very apparent is that he's not going for the outrageous brooklyn accent The Thing is legendary for in the comics, but something a little more subtle and believable.

Vanessa Kirby and Joseph Quinn are both different flavors of British, and though Joseph only says one word, it's pretty clear both are foregoing their natural accents. That said, Vanessa's choice of, what I can only guess is a slight mid-western accent, is very interesting. I was not expecting that choice.

They added a subtitle to the movie. Fantastic 4: First Steps. I think they didn't need to add a subtitle, but since they did. I'll just give it a cursory analysis. I think you can derive FOUR meanings from the title: First Steps calls to mind humanity's first steps on the Moon, fitting for a space age tale. First Steps also feels like a good title for their first adventure. First Steps works metatextually as their first steps into the MCU (which isn't technically true with those two cameos in MoM and D&W), but the most important theory I have for First Steps is in relation to a baby's first steps. I think that Franklin is going to be in this movie as a major plot point. Serving what purpose, I'm not sure.

To finish things off, we only get a look at Galactus through a window, so not much I can comment on in terms of appearance, but I'm very happy that it's an actual dude and not shadows within a cosmic cloud. He looks very imposing and I hope we get more perspective shots like that to sell how big this guy is.

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

Lucie / Cooper Davies Info Dump! 🎀✨

This is a disorganized because I just want to talk about one of my favorite characters from Hare, Fox, and The Moon (written by me and @cupiidskiss ♥️)

This means there will be spoilers for Hare Fox Moon, but I’ll keep major spoilers to the end.

🎀💕🎀💕🎀

Who is Lucie?

Lucie is an American citizen of German-French decent in his mid 20’s. He/she is introduced in chapter 9 (Argument) as a cross dressing man of the night.

“‘I’m not a waiter, honey,’ grinned the… man? Malt squinted at him and noticed the more defined jaw bone and masculine features under the makeup… His lipstick lips parted, ‘I can get you and I something if you’d want. Only if you treat me, just one night.’ His voice is husky for someone of similar stature to Malt, maybe shorter, thicker in some places, and lacking facial hair.”

Lucie was introduced into the story, a little on a whim so Malt would have someone to talk to and progress the plot while Malt and Boone had their first major plot point where they were away from each other. She later developed into an askew parallel of Malt and Boone’s relationship.

Lucie functions as tangible proof that Boone has a history of non-heterosexual behavior, which is a step forward in the “is Boone gay for Malt?” plot.

“‘Boone.’ The prostitutes eyes went wide. ‘Boone Quinn?’ Malt nodded. ‘Oh wooow, I really did twist the wires in his head, didn’t I?… He was one of my clients.’”

Up until then, the audience assumes Boone has always been this gruff, blood hungry cishet man. Lucie happily explains (at a price) how Boone is actually a softie and bends easily to the allure of femininity. While Boone has internalized homophobia problems, it is implied numerous times that Boone enjoyed his night with Lucie. It is mentioned a few times how Boone even thinks about Lucie and what their night together meant.

“boone whipped his body around to finally face malt. ‘that [night together] was a one time thing, i don’t…i don’t want to think about it. it was a mistake.’ … ‘i don’t know... how i feel… i mean, fuck. im a man. he looked like a woman but. I just.’ shame dwelled in his chest, he felt sick almost. ‘i think about it so much. i shouldn’t be thinking about it this much’” (chapter 15, Boner).

Lucie offers Malt an openly queer man he could bang, but Malt passes on it because he (unaware of it rn) is terribly dependent on Boone and can’t imagine picking anyone else.

Lucie’s first appearance is a little brief, and without the context of who Cooper Davies is, a reader would think Lucie was a one time character.

Cooper Davies 💈

Cooper Davies is Lucie by day! He works as a barber in Saint Denis and is well liked for his charisma and ease of conversing. He has feminine features, but not enough to make people judge him. He passes well enough as an eccentric cishet man to exist in the world without trouble (as of 1898 at least). He has a roommate-partner of sorts who is a working girl. The two of them pass well enough as a straight couple to help keep Cooper’s homosexual behavior out of the limelight.

The first time Cooper is mentioned is in chapter 24 (that isn’t released as of the moment). His scene is brief, only being present at Wallace Station to buy Boone and Malt tickets to get back to Saint Denis after… a lot happened to Malt and Boone. After Boone offered Cooper a pseudo name when they met, the text states,

“cooper took in that boone didn’t use his real name—or maybe that was his real name, boone quinn could have been a fake name for all he knew, and he knew many things” (chapter 24).

Lucie and Cooper and never stated to be the same people, but it is hinted in segments throughout the chapter how Cooper recognized Boone, and how Boone vaguely recognized Cooper’s face but couldn’t pin point where. He later misremembers and says he recognized him from the barber shop (which isn’t wrong but also isn’t the full picture).

Cooper has had a history of indulging in underground drag and frequenting a secret queer bar called The Golden Lantern. He later began selling his services around the bar and streets for a little extra cash. It’s not a necessity but a thing he does to express himself. He spends more of the night talking and connecting with the queer community than actually having transactions.

It is illustrated later in the story that Cooper lives in an upper floor apartment outside of La Bastile (the saloon Boone frequents) and began to study Boone after their night together. He already people watched, painted, and wrote poetry from his balcony so it wasn’t too odd for him to begin noticing Boone’s habits.

Like I said with the askew parallels: Malt and Cooper both obsess over Boone and are queer men with feminine characteristics. The thing that sets them apart is how Cooper is accepted into society, while Malt is perpetually at the outskirts and unable to carve a fulfilling life in Saint Denis.

Cooper forever longs from a distance, too chicken to initiate an interaction with Boone again. Boone doesn’t know Lucie is Cooper, so when Boone comes in to the barber shop, Cooper can’t naturally bring it up without outing himself as queer. Since the interaction is business, neither gets to be especially close even in a customer and employee way.

Malt gets to have hands on interactions with Boone day in and day out, but he lacks any career or family outside of what Boone provides. His obsession is not just that, it’s also a dependency, and that’s partially why Lucie feels bad for Malt by the end of the story…

Spoilers for the end of Hare, Fox, Moon‼️

Cooper has a speaking role one other time in Malt’s epilogue. By then, the time is somewhere in the 1910’s and Boone had been hung.

His possessions could have been reclaimed by anyone who stepped up to take them, but no one did; Boone had no kin, no partner, no friends, no one who remembered him for being anything but a brutal man who womanized.

Cooper didn’t step forward to take the belongings because he was convinced he was a nobody to Boone and had no right to own his possessions, even if Cooper badly wanted to keep them. He thought it was selfish to take something that didn’t belong to him, clinging to a deadman’s memory.

Instead, he stashed drawings, poems, newspaper clippings and excerpts. Way back, he used to watch Malt and Boone laugh and smile and grow undoubtedly close. Cooper became so infatuated with Malt and Boone because Cooper saw it as a way to voyeuristically satiate his desire.

So when Malt bumbled into Saint Denis after ~11 years, Cooper was heart broken to realize Malt came to reunite with Boone. He had to delicately (without outing himself as being Lucie) inform Malt that Boone had been dead for a while.

Little remained to remember Boone by, most people forgot about his death, just yet another name in the newspaper of criminals. This broke Malt because all the tangible things Boone gave him (braided hair, bolo tie, hair flowers, gun holster, food chain knife, custom engraved revolver) were all gone, lost to the sands of time.

Feeling bad for only being able to offer bad news, Cooper gives his heartfelt collection of Boone memorabilia to Malt. He tells Malt a little bit about why he has so many hand-made things of the two of them, but overall lets the papers speak for themselves.

Now, this part breaks my heart, but Malt is a wanted criminal and Martelli’s mafia wants him dead. When Cooper is questioned for his involvement talking to a criminal, he reluctantly tells the officers where he last saw Malt heading. He is inconsolable that he had to do that to keep himself, his girlfriend, and his family safe. ;-; in one action, he killed the last remnant of his fixation from all those years ago.

While the epilogue ends rather grimly, it is possible for Cooper to have a kind of happy ending. Cooper and Kathrine are two of the only people who survive til the end of the story and had any personal interaction with Boone. Me and Paige joke that they trauma bond and have a “meh” happy ending together as friends in a corrupt city that is somehow even worse than it was before.

🎀💕🎀💕

That is the bulk of the info dump, I just really like her design and story. Sighhhh, Lucie and Malt could have been such friends together, If only Lucie/Cooper had the balls to talk to his crushes.

also bonus info i had no easy way to slot in!:

Lucie / Cooper has gynecomastia :)

when at work, he loosely binds, but since his chest isn’t that big and he wears layers, he doesn’t have to worry.

when dressed as Lucie, he wears a pushup bra to make it look more like breasts.

[jjkamochoso]

I finally think I've come up with a request for Shalnark! Actually, it was an idea for Feitan first because requesting for Shalnark feels... odd. Anyways, could I request a Shalnark x Female Reader who's doting? Like she isn't overbearing or anything, but if she's not busy in her own world, she's by his side tending to the slightest of injuries or complimenting his appearance that day. I'll probably go right back to Feitan after this hahaha... Thank you for your time and effort, take as long as you need!! <( ´▽` )>

Ahh this was so much fun to write!! I hope I was able to capture Shalnark’s personality okay here since it was my first time writing for him🥰 and I’m sorry this took as long as it did, I really hope you love the story!!🫶❤️ thanks for all your support and kind comments💕

My Love for You Shall(nark) Never Cease

Fluff

Shalnark x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of minor injury, one small mention of killing

The hideout was quiet, which makes sense since you were the only one there. Pakunoda, Uvogin, and Shalnark were sent on a mission a few days ago while the rest of the Phantom Troupe were off doing… you weren’t sure what, but you figured they were keeping busy. You decided to enjoy the rare moments of peace by indulging in your favorite hobbies while everyone was away. You often found yourself daydreaming, an activity that was easiest for you to partake in when there was nothing but silence around you. You thought of spectacular worlds and created countless scenarios in your head.

Though the topic always seemed to circle back to a specific blonde haired man.

Over the time you had known him, you’d began to harbor a crush on Shalnark. His big green eyes and contagious laugh made your heart flutter every time you were near him. You would do anything to be blessed by the sight of his radiant smile which meant you often showered him with compliments. Your train of thought wandered into the depths of your memory, your mind replaying a treasured moment with the man.

“Good morning, Shalnark!” you had greeted warmly as you ate breakfast one day before a mission.

“Good morning, y/n!” he said back, just as enthused. Even though it was early, he was bright eyed and bushy tailed as usual. He grabbed the open box of cereal from the table and poured some into one of the few chipped bowls the Troupe had lying around in the hideout. Your group had been there for a while and it was nice to have a place like that to call home for as long as possible. Shalnark took a seat next to you, ready to dig into his meal. You took the time to really admire him up close; your eyes traced over his facial features, committing them to memory (you swore that if you died, his face would be the only one you’d want to see in your final moments). The slope of his nose, the upturn of his lips—he was stunning. There was no way you couldn’t compliment him! He deserved to know he was being noticed by others for his beauty and you hoped maybe one day he would take notice of yours as well.

“Your hair looks really nice today,” you told him, a kind tone to your voice. You heard him slightly choke on his cereal.

“Who? M-me?” he asked, sputtering and coughing. You tilted your head, a bit confused by his reaction.

“We’re the only ones out here,” you remarked, a small giggle filling the awkward silence.

“Oh! You’re right.” His cheeks were a bright red and it didn’t seem like it was from his previous lack of air. He cleared his throat. “Thank you. Yours does, too. Look nice, I mean.”

Shalnark’s spoon went immediately back into his mouth, crunching away on the cereal. You couldn’t contain the smile that took up residence on your lips, your heart thumping in your chest. If there was one thing you knew about Shalnark, it was that he was brutally honest and he wouldn’t compliment you if he didn’t mean it. If there was one thing you didn’t know but just learned about him, though, it was that he gets easily flustered by compliments.

Since then, you always made sure to compliment him to no end.

You loved to dote on the man and after his initial reactions of embarrassment, he’d started to embrace it, eagerly beaming when he heard what sweet words you had for him whenever you saw him. It became a regular occurrence for you to compliment him, from physical appearance to nen ability, and, on occasion, his driving skills. It was your favorite part of the day and quickly turned into his as well.

Since he had been on this mission, though, you hadn’t had the chance to talk to him at all. You liked this alone time, sure, but you missed your interactions with your favorite blonde.

You sighed, picking up a book. Maybe this time you could read a couple more chapters without getting distracted by your heart’s desires…

All of a sudden, you heard loud noises at the hideout entrance. Before you could even worry, you heard Shalnark’s trademark laugh and you grinned from ear to ear.

They were back!

You quickly stood to welcome the trio home, but your smile faltered at the scene in front of you. Shalnark locked eyes with you and let out a pained sound, which didn’t surprise you with the way he looked extremely banged up. What had gone wrong on the mission?

“Well? Aren’t you going to say how amazing I look?” he said, laughing before grimacing, holding a hand to his ribs.

“Shalnark! Are you alright?” you asked, hurriedly racing to his side. Pakunoda and Uvogin shared knowing looks as they left the common area, most likely going to treat their own injuries or sleep for the rest of the day; whatever would lead them to not be involved in any of the lovesick antics between the two of you.

You guided Shalnark to a chair at the kitchen table.

“I’m getting the first aid kit. I’ll be right back, okay?” you told him as he nodded in understanding.

“Show me where it hurts,” you said when you came back, opening the kit.

“My ribs are bruised but they’ll be fine,” he explained. “I have a cut on the back of my arm, though.”

“I’ll clean it up, don’t worry,” you replied, sending a gentle smile to him. He returned the gesture until you cleaned the wound, causing him to hiss in pain.

“I’m sorry! It’ll be over in a second, I promise,” you consoled him. You figured it would be best to talk him through the pain. “How did you end up in such bad shape?”

“I got… distracted,” he confessed. “I got hit from behind. Not to worry, I killed them really fast!”

“That’s my boy,” you teased, applying a bandage over the cut. “There, you’re all good to go. Here’s some pain medicine for your ribs.”

He thanked you for the medicine, swallowing the pills with a gulp.

“So what causes the great Shalnark to become distracted in the first place? You’re one of the most disciplined men I know,” you wondered. You spied the tips of his ears turning red.

“I was thinking about you. It was early in the morning and I had been missing hearing you compliment me during the past few days,” he admitted. Now it was your turn to blush.

“O-oh,” you breathed out, not sure what the correct thing was to say. “I would’ve called you but… I wouldn’t have wanted to bother you.”

“See, you’re always thinking of others and I like that about you,” Shalnark remarked. You weren’t used to being on the receiving end of the compliments between you two and you kept your eyes downcast on the table until you felt a hand lightly touch your own. You glanced up to see his green eyes glittering as he smiled.

“I don’t compliment you enough and that stops today. Y/n, I think you’re caring and kind, and I love how you always take care of me. I think you’re very beautiful and it’s amazing how you brighten up any room you walk into.”

You felt your heart swell up with love and your eyes well up with happy tears. “Shalnark, I… don’t know what to say.”

He chuckled. “That’s alright, you know exactly what to say every other day.” After a few moments he stood, not yet moving his hand from yours. “How about whenever I wake up next, we grab a meal together?”

You shook your head. “I’d like that very much.”

“Cool!” Shalnark gave you a thumbs up and a wink. “I’m going to get some well needed shut eye.”

You stood too, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Sleep well, Shalnark. You worked really hard and deserve good rest.”

He brought his fingertips to where your lips previously were, wearing a stupefied grin. “I never want to go that many days without hearing you say things like that again.”

[hermannsthumb]

Hey hey could you write something about newt confronting his middle school bully a la this post: https://10001gecs.tumblr.com/post/729455540321779712/my-high-school-bully-reached-out-to-me-and-asked

(post) hmm i wonder who sent this in after we talked about it in discord 7 months ago... allusions to non sfw behavior at the end !! (edit also literally seconds after i posted this i realized this ask says middle school and not high school like i wrote. sigh.)

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

“Oh, shit,” Newton says. “Hermann, do you see that guy?”

He’s doing some strange, jerking head motion over the ambiguous vicinity of Hermann’s left shoulder, and it takes Hermann a good few seconds to realize Newton wants him to turn around and look at the fellow in question. He puts down his sandwich with a small sigh: he waited two hours for Newton to wrap up his work so he would have company in the mess hall for lunch, lunch which will continue to evade him, he supposes.

But Newton kicks his shin under the table as he cranes his neck around. “Newton,” he snaps with a startle. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but—offended at the mere principle of it—he hits Newton’s own shin back with the end of his cane. Newton is too preoccupied with attempting to hide the entire upper half of his body beneath their table to put up a fuss.

“Don’t be so obvious about it,” he says to Hermann. “Be subtle, subtle. Yeah, perfect.”

There’s no one exceptionally exciting over Hermann’s shoulder when he turns back about painfully slowly, or at the very least no one he can see causing Newton to get as worked up as he is. It’s the usual gaggle of personnel they see wandering about the Shatterdome with them. “Ugly blue shirt,” Newton whispers, “and a stupid beard.”

Hermann spots him after another glance through the food line—a stocky, unassuming man waiting with a tray in his hands, though admittedly Hermann can’t find anything particularly offensive about his shirt or his facial hair, not even by Newton’s standards. “What of him?” Hermann says.

He doesn’t recognize the man, but that’s hardly surprising. There’s been plenty of new faces about the base recently after the latest round of Shatterdomes shuttered their operations and sent their skeleton crews to Hong Kong as a last resort. Hermann expects he might be one of the transferred ranger recruits. He lacks the, ah, soft disposition of Newton and Hermann and their more technologically-inclined ilk, and is certainly built large enough to hold his own in a jaeger.

“I think I know him,” Newton says.

This is not that surprising either. Newton has a curiously long list of ex-partners spread throughout the various networks of the PPDC, partially because the instability of their employment at any given base up until recently (or, indeed, the instability of their expected lifespan) is not conducive to long-term relationships, and partially because Newton’s personality is not conducive to it either. Hermann envies the people who have had the means to escape Newton: he himself has had no such luck. “Another poor soul you’ve scared off?” he says, and takes a bite out of his sandwich more aggressively than he intended.

“Ew, man, gross.” Newton makes a face at him. “No way. He’s a total asshole. He used to make my life hell.”

Hermann swallows his mouthful of sandwich. This admission, on the other hand, is surprising. Newton doesn’t usually make his dislike of people unknown, especially not to Hermann, and Hermann had been under the assumption he was familiar with the full roster of Newton’s ‘enemies’—most of whom are academic rivals of some kind (though certainly none surpass Hermann’s high ranking in that particular category), and all of whom Hermann had Googled obsessively after being made aware of their existence. “Sounds a bit like the whole 'taste of your own medicine' cliche,” Hermann says.

“No, come on, I'm serious, I mean actual hell, just ‘cause I was out about being into dudes,” Newton says. “Whatever bullshit you can think of—stole my shit, made fun of my glasses, pushed me around, called me lots of really creative and exciting slurs. Really original content. He flushed one of my notebooks down a toilet one time and I got in trouble for it. Just—you know, stupid, immature, homophobic jock-vs-nerd bullshit.”

More than slightly alarmed, Hermann shoots another glance over his shoulder. The fellow with the beard has moved ahead in the line and Hermann has a much clearer view of him now. He’s most certainly at least twice Newton’s size, if not larger, and Hermann doesn’t like the idea of him treating Newton in such a physically aggressive manner by any means (to say nothing of the other half of the harassment he received). “When on Earth did that happen?” he says. “The Jaeger Academy? You reported him to—someone, anyone, I hope.” And if not Hermann is more than happy to do so now.

“Oh, no,” Newton says. “It was back when I was in high school for a year. Before I skipped twenty grades, I mean.”

Hermann relaxes his shoulders, which had grown quite tense. “Ah,” he says. As a child he was unfortunately quite familiar with schoolyard bullies himself.

“His name is something stupid, like Chad or Chet or something. Not actually, but you know what I mean. I used to stalk him on Facebook when I was in grad school to make sure his life still sucked shit. He got divorced the same month I got my fourth doctorate. Really poetic. Oh, fuck.”

He ducks back beneath the table. Evidently he isn’t fast enough, because when Hermann turns, Chad-Chet-something is staring intently at the empty space Newton inhabited seconds prior. If the wide-eyed surprise that flashes across his face is any indication, he has recognized Newton in return.

“He’s coming this way,” Hermann says to the rustling somewhere in the vicinity of his ankles. It must be filthy down there. He hears Newton curse, though given the alarming way the entire table wobbles, it may be because he’s just hit his head on something. “Would you like me to make up a lie and say you’ve gone off somewhere? Or I can stall for a bit, and you can—I don’t know—crawl off.”

“Newt?” Newton’s former classmate says.

Newton rises back up slowly, his hair in significant disarray. Hermann fantasizes briefly—not for the first time—about going at it with a comb. “Heyyyyy, man,” Newton says. “What’s up?”

Newton’s classmate had been squinting at him with a small frown, but (to Hermann’s immense surprise) he begins to smile. “It is you, that’s wild! I don’t know if you remember, but we went to school together—like, fifteen, twenty years ago. We were in the same homeroom.”

“Oh, totally,” Newton says. “Bradley?”

“Seth.”

“What’s, uh, what’s brought you to Hong Kong?” Newton says.

Seth looks down pointedly at the empty chair positioned between Newton and Hermann. “Mind if I sit here?” he says, and though neither of them respond, he drops his tray down with a small clatter and follows suit. “I joined on with the PPDC last year, and I was stationed in Seattle up until a couple weeks ago,” he continues, confirming Hermann’s earlier suspicions. “I’m still getting used to everything. I heard there was a Dr. Geiszler working at one of the labs here somewhere, but I had no idea that was you. Did they just throw you over here too?”

Newton has gone a little red in the face, as if he’s bottling up a great deal of shouting, cursing, and possibly crying, and Hermann is somewhat impressed at his restraint in not making a scene. He feels a small surge of protectiveness for Newton (despite everything) and steps in not-very-smoothly to help him. “Newton—Dr. Geiszler I have been stationed here since 2020,” he says. “I’m Dr. Hermann Gottlieb.”

“Hermann’s my lab partner,” Newton manages to say. “We get along really awesomely. We’re, like, pretty close. Seth and I went to high school together, Hermann.”

“Mm,” Hermann sniffs. “So you’ve mentioned.”

He does not bother hiding his disdain, and Seth is astute enough to notice and jump to the logical conclusion of precisely the conversation he’d interrupted: he gives them a small, embarrassed grin, and an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders. “Yeah, I was kind of an asshole back then,” he says, “but you know how teenagers are.” He picks up his tray and stands. “Anyway, I’ll leave you guys alone. We’ll have to catch up later, Newt? Maybe dinner?”

“Totally,” Newton says.

“I should hire someone to kick his ass,” he says to Hermann as they watch Seth find a seat with some fellow rangers—similarly fresh faces, Hermann presumes them to be his crowd from Seattle—across the mess hall. “I bet I could bribe another ranger into it, just go a littttle too hard in on a sparring match. Maybe knock out a few of his teeth. Ugh. Like I’d ever get dinner with that dick.”

“I got dinner with Seth,” Newton announces in the laboratory a week later.

“I wondered where you were last night,” Hermann says, feigning disinterest as he squints at his computer screen. In truth he’s rather peeved at Newton over it; they’ve had a long-standing arrangement as dinner companions for several years at this point, and he’d waited for Newton at their table in the back of the mess hall for an hour before he finally realized he was being stood up and stormed off to his quarters. He’d debated tossing out the extra chocolate pudding cup he had stolen as dessert for Newton but decided to eat it instead, imagining with relish the whole time how upset Newton would be if he found out. It made him feel a little bit better.

“Oh, yeah, sorry I ditched you, I kinda forgot,” Newton says. “I was on my way to the mess and he kinda accosted me out of nowhere and offered to buy me noodles downtown, as an 'apology'. Not gonna turn that down. I made sure to run up a bill. But, dude, you’ll never believe this.”

“Mm,” Hermann says.

He hears Newton made an impatient little shuffling noise behind him. Then Newton is stomping over and grabbing onto the back of Hermann’s desk chair to spin Hermann around to face him. He boxes Hermann in, one hand on each armrest, and (with nowhere else to go) Hermann folds his arms across his chest and scowls up at him. “Fine. Go on.”

“So,” Newton begins gleefully, “it turns out he’s also gay now. Or I guess he always was, which explains the divorce thing, but you know what I mean. He said the reason he treated me like shit was because he was jealous of me for being out, and also because he thought I was infecting him with my gay cooties or whatever since he wanted me soooo bad. What a jerk.” He drops his arms away from Hermann’s chair. “Anyway, we boned.”

Hermann sits up quickly and nearly collides with Newton's abdomen. “What?”

“Eh, don’t worry,” Newton says, “it’s not like I’m into him or anything. I’m gonna hold that grudge forever, sorry, he’s not hot enough to make me forget all that, even if he isn't an asshole anymore. I know what I’m doing. It’s all part of my awesome revenge plan: I’m gonna string him along and then dump him hard after he gets a taste of what it's like to date someone as cool as me.”

Hermann is of two minds: the first is that Newton’s plan is abysmally stupid, and the second, that he can’t help but be relieved that Newton is not earnestly subjecting himself to a relationship with a man whom he’s professed to hate. Loathe as he is to admit it, Newton deserves—Hermann grits his teeth—better. “How exactly do you intend to ‘string him along’?” Hermann says. “And why would you even want to? He hardly seems worth the effort.”

“Number one, by being hot and charming as usual,” Newton says, and rolls his eyes at Hermann’s loud scoff. “Shut up. I’m irresistible. He’s already trying to get me to go out for coffee with him today. Can you believe how clingy he is? So desperate. Ugh. And number two—” He shrugs, and something uncomfortable simmers within Hermann’s chest at the sight of the light blush rising to his cheeks. “I meeean, I don’t know, dude. The hate sex was kinda doing it for me. I guess technically I was the only one doing the hating there, because I’m irresistible, but it was still pretty hot.”

Being treated to details of Newton’s sexual proclivities is not a new experience for Hermann, as Newton seems to think it both constitutes daily small talk in the laboratory when their work gets slow and something Hermann genuinely cares to hear about, but Hermann finds himself bristling at it now. He wasn’t aware such an, er, act, spurned on by hatred, was even a possibility with Newton—that Newton would enjoy it. Could they have been finding more constructive outlets for their mutual dislike throughout all these years? Simply embraced the fiery passion of it all? Certainly Hermann has crafted list after list of increasingly erotic ways he could shut Newton up, but it is the first time he begins to wonder if Newton might not have done the same.

He forcefully turns his chair back around to hide his face from Newton. He is flushing, his skin hot beneath his collar. His computer screen swims in front of him. “That’s lovely to hear,” he says, after far too long of a silence. “I’m glad you—enjoyed yourself. Best of luck with it all.”

“Right,” Newton says, after too long of a silence of his own. “Uh, I’ll be back in an hour-ish.” He adds, mockingly, “We’re getting coffee. I’ll bring you back a muffin and tea or something.”

Once Newton has gone, Hermann drops his head into his hands with a small groan.

[jampookie]

🎸⚡ Max Trio Headcanons Time!!!! Yay!!!!

IF YOU HAVE ANY OF YOUR OWN PLSSSSS TELL ME OMGOMG

Jaime:

- SHE DATED MARIA IN MIDDLE SCHOOL: IDC. THEYRE MIDDLE SCHOOL EXES what evidence do I have?? uhhh,,,.......none but i pinky promise they are.

- She's Chinese and Freeeench!!! : Chinese from her Mom and French from her Dad. She knows both languages fairly well and her favorite hobby is to say random things to Max in them that he will never understand (and loses his mind over~)

- She used to have medium length hair but cut it in freshman year: New Year New (Jai)Me!!!

- This is even more random than the Maria one but I hc her to be siblings with the spinoff ep 2 nurse: hear me out okay i just.........idk i think it's probably the lack of max trio content that's getting to my mind.

and it's just nurse lady has the same color palette as jaime ssss...sso...so....WHATEVER

- ⬆️ Adding to thisssss:

When she was a kid her sis was goth (liek as a teen? 10 year age gap between them im guessing) and mini 5 year old Jaime always felt INSPIRED🪄🪄 so she got alot of practice as a kid by stealing makeup hehehe and now she has a PhD in dressing goth! huzzah!

...most of her clothes are hand me downs but atleast she got a starter pack of some sorts 😾

- Whenever she's bored she practices her makeup-ing on Damien,: Since he can actually sit still. She tried it on Max but he either fell off the chair or subconsciously rubbed it all off when his face got itchy....whoops.

- She playssss....keyboard 🎹! I think! And she probably sings sometimes too. Lalalala 🎤🎤

- After Ep 11 events she made pretty good friends with Jake!!!:

Fun Scenario - One day Jaime just so happened to not have makeup on so she was just walking around with her natural BEAUTAY but Jake didn't recognize her like that so he released a quite high pitched SHRIEK and fell backwards thinking she was someone else. They were both quite confused.

- DAMIEN AND MAX CALL HER 'JAY' AS A NICKNAME: Change my mind😈😈😡🤑

- She's not very good at facial expressions:

If she's having the time of her life she'll slightly smile. If she fell off a cliff and lost a few limbs she might slightly pout. The other 99.99% of the times in her life are just a deadpan expression, 😐.

Max:

- MAAAAAAX MY MAIN MAN!!!!!: Before I FULLY start up abt him I just wanna blab a lil on how I think him and Jaime met.

In either Freshmen or MS (I can't decide) Jaime was just listening to music in art class minding her own business till a red and orange gremlin invited himself into her personal space. "WHAT THE HELL DUDE YOU LISTEN TO (certain cool band) TOO!?!? WHAAAAT!?!?" shrieked the gremlin, unaware and uncaring of the other 30 people in the room.

And there you go. Jaime Max friendship. Huzzah!

- Half Brazilian Half Mexican!!: Mexican from his Mom so he knows his Spanissssh!!! I've never thought about Max's dad so lets say he's fatherless. Good for him.

⬆️ - ONTO THIS: I also headcanon Drew as half Mexican (and half Filipino if anyones interested) so so so so SO me thinks Drew and Max are cousins! Teehee!

They used to get along. They fell out. Or the two sides of the family fell out? Can't decide but I will agree with any theory that suggest DRAX ENEMIES GAAAHHHH DRAX ENEMIES!!!!!

- He plays guitar, drums and also sings: Triple cool 😆

- His eyebrow piercing got irritated alot. Like ALOT:

He forgot to clean it. Damien tried endlessly to tell him he'd end up with a tomato brow if he didn't take care of it. He didn't really listen but hey it worked out in the end!! happy days!

- He has BIG mood swings BIG: This is canon but WHATEVER. I like to imagine some of the hangouts he has with his friends go like:

5 minutes in: Oh yay! This is a fun hangout!

10 minutes in: I HATE THE FLOOR AND I HATE THE TWO OF YOU GO AWAY LEAVRMA,LEN,ENNOW

12 minutes in: I love you guys pls neevrbr leavemr idk what Id do without u ❤️❤️ group hug guys group HUG❤️

13 minutes in: we're not hanging out anymore

13½ minutes in: NO COME BACK IM SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN IT

- He laughs either like a hyena or like Peter Griffin: he's either "SAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHGKAKLJJABLJAHLJIBJAKLBJAKLLJABJKBJAIBZIBAIJBIABJLIBIAIBJLIBJLALBJAJLBIKABJLIKBMAL" or "nyeheheheheheh...." depends if he's feeling BIG AND BOLD or mischievous cheshire cat 😈

- His love language is pacing around the room and telling you his grand bizarre plans and interests. Just endlessly talking....:

Me too Max. Me too.

- Sport is one of his other hobbies besides music he definitely loves the competitiveness part in sport class:

Half his classmates want him blown to smithereens, but hey he's a really good player so the sporty ones like him! He LOVES to win AND WON'T ACCEPT A DRAW EITHER HE WILL NOT

every time a draw happens he grabs the nearest ball and throws it at the nearest person while shrieking in agony

When his team wins hes like ☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻🤡😂🤡😂🤡😂🤡😂🤡🤣🤡😂🤣🤡😂🤡☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻 nanananananananan hahahahahah

- He has ALOT of his freckles because he's always outside:

It's the only reason Jaime and Damien have an ounce of Vitamin D, cause Max always drags them outside to hang out!

- TOOTH GAP. CANON. CANON. DONT CARE:

😁😁😁

- Him and Damien love South Park!!:

His favorite is probably Cartmannn..... He likes to imagine himswlf and Damien as Cartman and Kyle. He's very sad Jaime doesn't really watch it though.

- All 3 of them love Homestuck though!!!! When the 4th member of their band didn't DITCH THEM YET (🙄) They all cosplayed the Beta kids:

Max was Dave, Damien was John, Jaime as Roseeee.....and Loser Traitor 4th member was Jade. Screw you LT.

Damien:

Damikins Damikins Damishminkywins my little shmitten kitten booboo snooky cookie🥹🥹🥹🥹

HE HAS STRETCHED LOBES.: IM TELLING YOU.

He also has lazy eye: if you don't know what that is it's basically One eye is great and does it's job. Second eye sucks and goes loosy goosey (up down left right instead of centre we'll say.)

HE'S GERMANNNN: I can't decide if he actually speaks German though idk....hmmmmmmm yeah maybe actually

Likes to paint 🎨🎨: AND HE'S DAMN GOOD AT IT TOO 😈😈 He mainly does objects but sometimes people!

HIM AND HAILEY MAKE THE BESTEST FRIENDS!: They're both physically 17 but internally 97. They stand together, deeply sigh together and criticize the hideously idiotic people around them. Damiens the more talented one at it though.

⬆️ wait this just occured to me. Hailey Damien and Zander as a trio would be so great?? OMG

New HC!!!! Him and Zander both wear alot of jewelry (bracelets and rings and stuff) so they might trade some 🤔🤔: hmmm

He's one of those people that's naturally very good at Math: so he's always the one his friends (or just random classmates..) go to for either answers to steal or just for help. He doesn't really mind either, how kind of him 😁😁

Basic Stuff..

..like bdays and heights!!!

🎁

Max: December 3rd 2003

Damien: January 17th 2003

Jaime: October 31st 2003

📏

Max: 5'7 idk (170cm)

Damien: 6'3 (190cm)

Jaime: 5'3½! (161cm)

OKAY THERES THAT DONE. idk if you can edit posts i forgor but hey if i think of any more hcs or see any from others I like I'll come back and update. TY FOR READING ALL THIS BABBLING HELPME

[doodle-pops]

Honeymoon Sweetheart

Argon x reader

Kinktober 2023: First Time

A/N: This was surprisingly difficult to write, keeping in tune with Argon's personality and not straying.

Warnings: fem!reader, virgin reader and Argon, first time, fingering, soft sex

Words: 6.1k

Synopsis: It's yours and Argon's first night as a married couple.

List of Requests

“Does it feel good?” His voice was delicate, filled with anxiousness and thrill as he looked on. Hands slightly shaking, not from their actions, but from the fear of messing up as he looked at your ethereal form lying on your back, cocooned by messy sheets and discarded pillows lying aimlessly about the bed. The blinds around the bed were halfway opened, providing just a small peak into your personal paradise in your new chapter of life.

The image of long, inky hair, flowing over his broad shoulders and down his semi-nude figure was captivating. Your husband. It was exhilarating to use the term after aeons of courting one another, he was finally here to tie the knot and sail away into forever with you. Your Arakáno, the young princeling of the Noldor was finally yours and entangled in the best positions you could imagine. Fingers buried and nestled deeply within your spongey walls, crooking away at your sweet spot with a feigned innocent look on his face. As much as he attempted to hide his enthusiasm visually, he knew you were able to read his facial expressions.

Curling your fingers into the sheet as he pressed against your sweet spot, your legs jolted and your back arched off the bed at the rise in pressure. Your lids were hooded and staring up at his hovering figure over yours. One hand gripping the pillow under your head while his long torso was covered in a sheen of sweat from the humidity, he batted his lashes at every micro–expression your face conveyed. The ‘O’ formatting of your mouth whenever he pressed against your spot and the biting of your lips to suppress your moans whenever he pumped his finger faster made his trousers uncomfortably tighter. He was sure to have combusted before you two actually engaged.

In his hovering position, he leaned his body lower, already enjoying the feeling of your lips on him from the entire evening, he swallowed them again. The little gasp you let out into his mouth from the abrupt action, combined with his fingers crooking repetitively against your sweet spot, one of your hands immediately shot out to curl in his hair. You were unsure of whether to push him away or pull him closer as kissed you with passion. Kissing him like still was wholesome, and to see him slowly letting loose under comfort was warming.

Digging your heels into the mattress and pushing yourself upwards as the pressure built, you were whispering into the kiss, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, keep going!” wanting for your bliss to wash over you like spring rain. It surprised you that he only asked questions whenever he was confused or unsure, and with his lack of ‘why’ at this moment, you had an inclination that his siblings and cousins bombarded his poor brain with their knowledge—they refused to leave him alone the entire night, so you could only imagine what they stuffed into his head.

“Káno, so close. I–I can feel it, oh God! Keep going please.” Eyes shut and breaking the kiss to whimper, you missed the small victory grin he produced to understand that he was about to accomplish a great feat, doing something right.

Looking down to where his fingers were wedged between your thighs, he was baffled by the glistening effect on his palm and wrist under the peaking moonlight, slithering through the blinds. His eyes left your face to stare awestruck at the work of art you were producing all over him, understanding that you were about to orgasm all over his hand. With nonstop motion, Argon repositioned himself swiftly, without losing stamina, to kneel between your legs, wanting to obtain a better view.

However, finding your squirming to be obscuring his view, a large palm was placed flat against your stomach to keep your still while his fingers pumped and curled according to your earlier commands. Little gushes of your arousal could be seen trickling out as his fingers thrust vigorously while he felt the increasing tightness of your walls around his fingers as though you were sucking him back in with every pump. An awe–like laugh slipped out at his amazement.

“You're so perfect,” he whispered, his eyes locked on your arousal, aware that you were on the brink. Your body thrashed on the bed, legs clamping around his hand, back arching off the mattress, and your hands gripping the sheets without concern for tearing them apart. All that remained was for him to witness the transformation of your angelic state into something even more ethereal and divine.

Panting and squealing as the burning sensation intensified, you shot up, your hands scrambling to hold onto Argon against your sweaty body as you trembled. Your hands slid from his sweaty torso as you shook from the intensity of the buildup. However, you could still feel his fingers slowly pumping, not yet withdrawing but remaining buried to relish the warmth and imagine what it would feel like for his cock. His poor member twitched and strained against his trousers, and if he didn’t remove them soon, he would likely explode before he could relieve himself. Yet, he continued to respect your pace, not wanting to shock you with his completely naked form.

Grinning as your smaller figure clung to him and trembled in the aftermath, he rubbed your back while you buried your face into his torso. The hot breaths escaping your mouth added to the heat of the moment, making his anticipation nearly unbearable. He tossed his head upwards to gaze at the canopy above, mumbling a silent ‘Fuck’ before returning his loving gaze to you. It was at that moment he decided to withdraw his fingers from your heat, savouring the sound of the squelch and the sensation of your inner muscles clinging to him like a secure blanket.

You looked up at him through hooded eyes, meeting his boyish smile with a giggle as you tilted your head upwards, silently demanding a kiss. Complying with your request, he met your lips in a tender embrace, two mouths coming together to savour the softness of your post-coital glow. Your fluttering giggles were like music to his ears, washing away his nerves as you prepared to embark on the next stage of your journey together.

Pecking his lips repeatedly, on the seventh kiss, you pulled away “Are we still…you know, continuing?” you asked with a hint of nervousness.

Blinking out of the trance you placed him under, he hesitantly nodded. “Only if you want to,” he said while sporting the hardest erection in his trousers. If anyone were to touch him, he’d explode. But of course, being raised with manners, he would have surely disappeared into the bathroom while you were resting and relieved himself.

“Uh–huh, of course, I want to continue,” you reacted, shuffling to your knees before him. “I’ve waited long for this moment Káno…” Sucking a deep breath after you spoke, you looked away from his piercing eyes to rake your eyes down his abdomen to meet his bulge.

Swallowing, you cast another glance at him before extending your hand to meet the ties of his trousers. He didn’t flinch or move, remaining still as he sucked in his breath, watching as you undressed him. Your nimble fingers slowly untied his trousers, almost as if you were waiting for him to halt the sequence of actions. However, you continued until the strings were undone. All that remained was to remove the material from his body, baring himself naked to you, just as you had done.

Gathering enough courage, your finger gripped the edges of the waistband to tug when his larger hands engulfed them. “Wait,” he began, “let me remove them. I still have to come off the bed.” There was the attempt to fit in a joke to ease the tension that settled throughout the room.

With a reassuring smile sent his way, you folded your legs sideways on the bed as he got off the stand at the foot. His tall and slightly muscular stature loomed over you, bearing remnants of scars from his tumultuous battles during his youth. The most prominent scar, an angry pink and jagged one, ran from his right shoulder to his left hip—a reminder of the blow that nearly took his life when he was an impetuous youth. Multiple times since the night had begun and he had revealed his shirtless form to you, your fingers and lips had traced those scars as if etching them into your memory.

His inky hair cascaded over his shoulder, most of it flowing down his back, with loose strands gracing his chest. With taut muscles and a proud posture, he gripped the flaps of his waistband and tugged the material down his hips, letting it slide down his legs. Throughout the entire process, his eyes never met yours, as they remained fixed on the carpeted floor. Strangely, embarrassment painted his face and body language, which surprised you once the trousers were completely off, and he returned to his full height. To you, there seemed to be no reason for him to be ashamed, especially when he had encouraged you to embrace your own nudity before him.

“Arakáno?” you called out, noticing his fists were clenched at his sides. You weren’t sure if the action was based on his awkwardness or the hard–on he was sporting. It appeared painfully angry with the leaking precum. From the looks of it, you were definitely baffled by the size and blushed a little at the idea of all that being inside you very soon. Would it fit? You hope it did.

He lifted his eyes to meet your gentle gaze, feeling your doe-eyed gaze penetrate the barriers he had erected. From where you were, your sweet voice called out to him, urging him to come closer. His footsteps dragged hesitantly across the carpet until his leg bumped against the foot of the bed. His head still hung low, his fingers fidgeted at his sides, and his toes tapped nervously against the floor.

“Káno, my sweet, sweet Káno,” you called again, this time, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed and rising to your knees. Your head reached his torso, still a great distance from his neck or lips—where you wanted to be. With your right hand outstretched, your cupped his nap, indicating you wanted a kiss.

Eager and willing to comply, he had relished the taste of your lips ever since that moment at the altar when he first kissed you. He tilted his head to meet you halfway, his enthusiasm nearly threatening to unbalance you from your kneeling position. However, you were saved by his strong arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him. To help ease his tension, you ran your other hand through his hair, tugging and scraping your nails against his tender scalp. You loved the way his body became more relaxed and pliant under your touch. He fell deeper into the kiss, his knees momentarily buckling before he steadied himself with you as support.

Your laughter escaped the kiss, causing him to accidentally kiss your teeth, eliciting a soft whine from him. Eager to return to your lips, his arms travelled up your back to grip your head, keeping you focused and in front of him so his lips could capture yours once more. With a touch of ferocity, Argon treated your lips as if they were a delectable dessert, biting and tugging at them, savouring every moment as though honey had been drizzled upon them. Each time your lips parted for breath, your hands would wander down his body, scraping your nails against his washboard abs, and you couldn’t help but grin as he groaned or trembled.

As you teased your fingers lower, his kiss slowed, moving from your lips to the junction of your neck. Once your hands reached his pelvis, you felt him freeze against you, awaiting your next move. To say you weren’t nervous about attempting the next step would be an understatement; you were riddled with jitters. What if you made a mistake, and he didn’t like how you were touching him? What if he felt too embarrassed to say anything about it? What if he decided to end the entire encounter and called it a night?

“Are you alright?” he murmured into your neck. “Do you want to stop?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Just…” your voice trailed off hoping he would catch the tone of what you were implying.

Not wanting to leave the session hanging and feeling a teaspoon of confidence, mostly to deal with his aching cock and put it out of its misery, Argon's right hand released the nape of your neck and found your hand. He didn’t look down to observe his actions but kept his face buried in the crook of your neck while your hand continued its ministrations. Guiding you to meet his cock, he felt your hesitation when your finger brushed against the tip, and in response, he hissed at the sensation.  

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright; it just felt good,” he replied.

Amazed at how his cock had twitched in response to your touch, you extended your hand to meet him again, this time wrapping your fingers around his middle. He released a sigh of relief the moment your hands closed around him, his own hand gripping your wrist tightly before sliding down to encompass your fingers around his cock. There was a pregnant pause that hung in the air, neither of you making a sound before his hand guided yours in a slow, deliberate motion up and down his length. As you parted your lips at the sight, you were caught off guard by Argon's whimpering in the crook of your neck.

His breathing quickened as his hand continued to guide yours, helping you to twist and apply the right amount of pressure to provide pleasure. The way his abdomen clenched and became taut, flexing as he found relief, was mesmerizing. Unbeknownst to you, this reaction wasn’t solely due to his release; it was also a response to your delicate touch on such a sensitive part of him. Feeling you hold him so tenderly in your hands sent his heart fluttering and pulsing excitement through his cock.

Pushing more of his head into your neck, he panted and groaned, finally dropping his hand to let you work. “You can…You can—the head, swipe for friction…”

Raising your brows as you processed his words and fought off the confusion, your thumb swiped at the beads of precum that had gathered at the head of his cock, and you spread it along his length. As requested, this reduced friction as you tried to apply the same pressure he preferred, squeezing and twisting with both hands. “Is this good?” you asked meekly, turning your head to brush your lips against his hair.

Unable to convey his satisfaction verbally, his hands tightened around your waist, and he pushed his hips into your hands, matching your pace. The more he thrust his hips, the more precum gathered at the head, allowing you to collect and spread it over him. But Argon didn’t want to stop. No, he wanted to cease before he climaxed in your hands prematurely; he desired to finish inside you, marking your union. Yet, he was torn between summoning the strength to pull away and continuing to revel in the bliss. His whines were a clear indication of how much he was enjoying the experience.

As his hips continued their rhythmic movements, he managed to pull his head from your neck and return to his towering height. His lips were parted, eyes closed, and his body was covered in a sheen of sweat. His thighs were tense and trembling, and it was a miracle he hadn’t already reached his peak the moment you touched him. Suddenly, his left hand shot out to grip your wrist, halting your motion.

 “Oh, I–I’m sorry,” you cried out, withdrawing your body from him and returning to a sitting position.

Opening his eyes in response to your frantic reaction, he looked down and furrowed his brow. “No, no,” he reassured in his typical worrisome tone. “It’s just, um, I, uh... It was feeling really... good, but...” He sounded embarrassed, struggling to explain that your actions were making him feel so good, still in the awkward stage of expressing his desires.

“But?” you encouraged him.

As he fumbled with his words, finding it nearly impossible to articulate his desire, it brought back memories of his cousins cornering him and outlining how his night would progress step by step. A subtle blush couldn’t help but rise to his cheeks.

Realization dawned on you, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit silly for not realizing sooner. “Ah, you want us to lie together now,” you mumbled.

Pleased that you had grasped his point without him having to blurt it out and sink further into embarrassment, he let out an exhale of relief and nodded rapidly. “Hmm, yes, yes!”

As you shuffled further up the bed, Argon stepped forward, gingerly climbing onto the mattress. You settled your head against the single pillow and let out a deep breath. The excitement was still there, but now the nerves had taken centre stage as the main event was about to begin. No amount of preparation could truly prepare you for this moment. Your fingers were curled into the bedsheets, and your legs lay straight along the bed, making it difficult for your loving husband to find a comfortable position.

Noticing your nervousness, he remembered his brother’s advice about soothing your nerves by gently massaging your skin, particularly your legs. Still kneeling with your feet brushing against his knees, he reached out and began to slide his hands up your legs, applying gentle pressure and kneading your flesh. He carefully observed your reactions, gradually increasing the force as he moved past your kneecaps and up to your thighs, where you seemed most tense. In addition to his hands, his lips came down to follow, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses over your thighs. Your not-so-subtle moans escaped your lips and met his ears, encouraging him to continue and move higher.

His body caged yours like a predator savouring its prey, exploring and relishing every inch of your body before making its move. His lips and hands worked in harmony to gradually ease you, primarily focusing on your thighs and pelvis. Occasionally, he planted kisses on your lower abdomen, chuckling softly as you sucked in your belly and then shifted his attention to your mound, listening to your reactions. Your responses encouraged him to push past his nerves and fully embrace the idea of making you his one and only. He was growing bolder and more confident with each passing moment, evident in his increasing assertiveness.

Leaving bites and nibbles on specific areas around your pelvis, his lips moved upward, treating each breast with the same tantalizing attention before reaching your lips. He wasted no time in reclaiming your mouth, parting your lips to slip his tongue inside. With your consent and enchantment, your legs were guided apart, wrapping around his waist and allowing his throbbing cock to rest against your heat. He swallowed your gasps and moans, rocking his body to glide his cock through your slick folds, creating delicious friction. The pressure of him nestled against you caused your walls to clench desperately, even though there was nothing to grip onto.

Your hands left the sheets and reached for his back muscles, embedding your nails into his shoulder blades as his rock persisted.

The kiss was hurried and clumsy, causing your nose and foreheads to bump against one another, sometimes your teeth would knock. This made him pull back to catch his breath with a playful grin before diving back in for another attempt. No longer were his movements jagged, but now filled with fluidity and confidence. In his mind, he reminded himself that it was his duty to see this moment through and provide pleasure to his wife.

He giggled into the kiss and pulled away, leaving a string of saliva to connect.

“What’s so funny?” you asked.

With a loud exhale, he gently shook his head, brushing a few loose strands of hair away from your face. “It’s nothing, really,” he began, “I just can’t believe that I’m married, and you’re my wife, and I’m your husband. I love the sound of the word; it makes me so happy,” he whispered against your lips, grinning like a love-struck puppy.

Feeling giddy from his comment, you laughed alongside your husband, showering in the elation of being a married couple. “It makes me happy also, husband. I love you,” you whispered against his lips, giving a peck at the end.

At that moment, he felt like he could lose himself and turn into a blushing tomato at the sweet words you spoke. Your words had the magical power to make him feel soft and tender, and there was nothing he wouldn't do if you asked him to.

Flickering his eyes to meet yours as the laughter between you two subsided, a wave of seriousness settled. As his body shifted to rest his weight on his knees and arms, there was an increased weight pressing upon your heat from the bending of his hips angled towards your sex. Instinctively, your nails curled into his shoulder blades upon the new shift in position and your hips pushed into the weight, enjoying the sensation of having his cock running through your fold and unknowingly teasing your clit.

“Permission to engage My Lady?” His charisma was peaking in this moment, accompanied by his adorable smile.

Your heart faltered at the smile and subconsciously you nodded your head, trusting that he would take care.

With a slip of his hand between your bodies, they recalled their previous route and slithered two fingers past your entrance to test the waters once more. There was a small intake of breath on your end as his fingers scissored and twisted the deeper they travelled producing obscene sounds. He crooked and pumped those long, slender fingers like he previously did, right away pressing against the edge of your sweet spot to get your body ready for what was to come next. You couldn’t believe you were this aroused the entire time and because of him? The awareness turned you on even more and led to audible moans escaping your lips.

You repeatedly muttered his name in an endless chant as his fingers delved deeper, and he too breathed heavily, closely observing the subtle movements of your hips rolling to meet his fingers and the way your stomach contracted. However, he was determined not to spend another moment with his fingers inside you when his cock was yearning for more.

Exercising self-control, he promptly withdrew his fingers and smeared your arousal over his throbbing member before aligning it with your eager entrance. Both of your gazes remained locked on his cock as the tip pressed against your wet slit. You held your breath, your stomach sucked in, and your shoulders tensed from the anticipation, the air heavy with suspense. Time seemed to crawl by as his hips drew nearer, gradually penetrating your passage. Initially, the sensation as he slipped inside was neutral, but as he persisted, a slight discomfort built up, causing you to shift.

Quick to notice your discomfort, Argon paused and gauged your expression, worried that he was hurting you. “Are you…in pain? Do you want me to stop? Just say it.”

“No, no, no. It’s alright, it’s alright. I can handle it,” you panted with your eyes squeezed tightly. “Keep going,” you encouraged.

Putting his trust in your response, he resumed his movements. Gradually inching in, he couldn’t help but shudder at the intense heat surrounding him. Your walls continued to flex and adapt, accommodating the discomfort, which in turn caused his toes to curl from the unrelenting tightness that seemed to suffocate him. Perhaps his cousins had neglected to mention this particular aspect during their discussions. His head spun as he slid deeper, wondering just how long it would take before he was fully engulfed. It felt like an agonizingly slow process, stretching on for what seemed like hours.

However, your agonising wait was over when his panting turned into a long grunt, and he nearly collapsed on top of you. Beads of perspiration rolled down his temple and dripped off his chin, falling on the pillow. His eyes were shut taking the moment to relish that his most anticipated moment was over. “Eru!” he cried and flopped his head beside yours.

But from your perspective, impatience seemed to be your current state. While he could bask in your warmth at another time, right now, you needed him to take action. “Love, please, I need you to move,” you whimpered, your tone filled with pleading urgency.

You didn't have to request it again as his hands swiftly adjusted to secure your hips, preventing any squirming so he could proceed. Initially, his movements were somewhat erratic and uncoordinated as he struggled to find the perfect angle and rhythm. The overwhelming pleasure clouded his thoughts and made it challenging to maintain a steady pace in his thrusts. Fortunately, when your hands ventured down his spine and gripped his buttocks, he paused his movements briefly and took a deep breath.

You rocked your hips upwards, ignoring the fading discomfort and pushed his hips downwards to meet your thrusts. “Move with me Káno, move with me. Just like that,” you instructed.

He found it incredibly arousing that you took charge of the situation, guiding his hips to match your rhythm and setting a new tempo. His breath caught in his throat as the sensations began to build once more. He marvelled at the sight of your hips meeting his, allowing him to penetrate even deeper. The comforting embrace of your velvety walls snuggled around him, pleading for him to stay longer with each withdrawal, was nothing short of sensational. Despite your guidance, he managed to maintain his rhythm, and he found your assertiveness to be incredibly seductive. He hoped for more opportunities to experience your leadership in intimate moments.

Amidst the symphony of your moans and his grunts, only muffled by the curtains that cocooned you in your private world, the bed rocked and creaked beneath your passionate movements. Your hands fumbled to find a secure grip as the heat between you intensified, causing sweat to coat your bodies. This added to the smooth friction of your nipples brushing against his chest, pressed firmly to your body, as you both sought to feel every shudder and ripple. The knowledge that you were both lost in the moment, driven by your sounds and touches, brought a fresh wave of pleasure.

Reaching for the hand that gripped your hips, you guided him to touch your clit with a soft plead as his hips slapped against yours and grew in vigour. “T–Touch me Káno, right there,” you breathed.

With each dip and roll of his hips, perfectly synchronized with his fingers tracing circles on your sensitive nub, your thighs must have taken on a reddened hue due to the intensified tempo, all while they remained ensconced around his slender waist. It was a marvel to behold as he surrendered to your warmth, delving deeper and deeper to alleviate his own yearning and provide you with satisfaction. Despite being a novice, he displayed a newfound roughness now that he had discovered his rhythm. With every forceful thrust, your teeth chattered against each other. Yet, it was sheer bliss; it compelled you to bury your head in the pillow and squeeze your eyes shut to fully savour him.

The sensual undulations of his hips, their rhythmic back-and-forth motion, the substantial and robust glide of his cock within your passage, and the insistent tapping of his tip against your sweet spot all coaxed his name from your lips, a sound he cherished above all else. Your utterance of his name was synonymous with pleasure and served as his motivation to continue his fervent actions, whether you cried out, moaned, whimpered, or squealed. A sharp thrust aimed directly at your sweet spot caused you to scramble in his grasp, your nails digging into his backside and pulling him closer, driving him even deeper into your heat.

With each thrust, your arousal coated his cock, glistening with a delicate ring of moisture at the base. He skillfully adjusted his movements, moulding your insides to fit him perfectly, a constant reminder that he was made for you. The rhythmic motion of his length sliding through your velvety walls, snugly embracing him in warmth, stirred a swarm of eager butterflies in your stomach. They danced around, fluttering downward until they reached your core, intensifying the building sensation. Subconsciously, you tightened around him occasionally, adding to the already pulsating pleasure he experienced.

From his vantage point, he had a clear view of your reactions beneath him—the arching of your neck, which allowed him to kiss you. He wasted no time, starting with gentle nips and grinning at your delighted squeals. His tongue slipped out smoothly to soothe the nibbled areas, gliding over the skin before transitioning to his lips to leave you with additional love bites as if the ones you already had were insufficient. His kisses acted as an enigmatic catalyst, evoking a series of incomprehensible utterances from you, as if you were reciting an enchantment. Your loving husband remained undeterred, only more motivated to work harder to elicit further reactions from you.

“You sound so good sweetheart,” he praised into your neck, dragging his lips upwards to meet your sealed lips and deliver a kiss to them.

Instinctively, you welcomed his entry. This time, the kiss differed from all the others; it carried a touch of tenderness and care, assuring you that he would love and cherish you endlessly. There was no trace of aggressiveness, even as his hair cascaded over his shoulders and onto the pillow, creating a private curtain between you and the outside world. This was your personal little paradise, where both of you could revel in bliss and happiness. It was mesmerizing to discover that throughout your life, you had the ability to bring out the best in him, revealing sides of him that no one else knew existed. This was your Arakáno, your husband.

As you leaned into the kiss, deepening it to convey your emotions, you gasped into his mouth as waves of pleasure reached a familiar peak. The same heights his fingers had achieved earlier were now being revisited through the combination of his skilful thrusts, filled with determination and passion. His fingers traced patterns on your clit, and his body pressed firmly against yours. It was simple yet incredibly effective, a source of profound pleasure that surpassed anything you had experienced with others in your bedroom encounters. Just being entwined with him like this was enough to provide every ounce of satisfaction you desired.

Arching your body into his, your nipples brushed against his chest, and you broke away from the kiss with a whimper. Your eyes darted upwards, giving him a doe-eyed, glossy, and starry look as your sensitivity intensified, making everything feel like it was ablaze. The weight of his cock pressed against you, sending waves of ecstasy rippling through your body. The gentle tug as he withdrew, followed by the smooth re-entry, left you panting, and you hadn’t anticipated how overwhelmingly pleasurable it would be. The sensation was indescribable, and mentally, you savoured each feeling to revisit later when you needed him.

The signs of your impending orgasm were clear, and Argon sensed it too. It was a stark contrast to the sensation of his fingers being clenched by your walls when you tightened around his cock in an intense manner. You refused to let him escape, pulling him in and silently begging for him to stay nestled in the depths of your warmth. Groan after groan escaped from him.

“Ohmygod Káno, I feel something,” you cried into his ear.

Your toes curled, and your back arched off the bed as your legs tightened around his waist. Your heels dug into his back, creating a vice-like grip that left him with no other option but to finish within your walls. He grunted in response to the unbearable squeezing, while your walls clamped down on his cock, massaging every inch of him and pulsating with heat, urging him to climax faster. He couldn’t hold out for long, despite his desire to do so.

You were the first to break through and reach climax, your dams breaking and waves of pleasure washing over your body like spring waters. Your second orgasm felt more soothing and less intense than the first, cooling your body and dissipating the indescribable heat. However, it was interrupted by the welcome sensation of your husband’s release flooding your insides. Your soft moans mixed with his loud groans as his hips jerked and his abdomen clenched before he finally stilled to release himself. The intensity nearly toppled you over, causing the hand that had been rubbing your clit to slide away as you grabbed onto your hips for stability.

Feeling his body heat dissipate, he experienced a profound sense of relief, and he heaved a deep breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart. The erratic pounding of his heart sounded like thunderous hooves drumming in his ears. If he could hear it, he was certain you could feel it too.

Though he wanted to flop onto your body, he instead gingerly lay down, covering your entire form with his own. Lost in the afterglow of ecstasy and coming down from your shared high, you found the situation comical and couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Your smaller frame quivered beneath his, sending tiny vibrations coursing through his body. Despite the fatigue creeping over him, he stole a glance at your giggles, wearing a confused expression. What had he done now?

“What seems to be the cause of your humour now?” he quizzically inquired, rising of your body to withdrawn himself.

The sensation of him pulling out was unsettling and foreign, and it didn't help when you felt his release follow afterwards. Your toes wiggled uncomfortably, and your face contorted with discomfort—a bath would be a welcome relief to wash away the uneasiness.

Shaking your head, you grinned at him comically, wearing an expression of exhaustion. It warmed his heart to see you looking so tired and dazed. “Nothing really. It’s just how you flopped on top of me like a blanket. Sometimes I forget how big you are,” you chuckled. “But, um, do you mind if we also freshen up?”

Resting on his haunches and gazing down at your languid body, he offered a wry smile. “You forget how big I am,” he smugly whispered. Lowering his head to conceal a restrained chuckle, you watched with amusement at his reactions. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful not to crush you with my big self.”

“Arakáno!” you exclaimed, lifting yourself off the bed to sit upright and lightly tapping his arm. “Don’t tease me like that!”

Clutching his stomach as laughter bubbled up, he threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of teasing you; I adore your reactions,” he teased once more.

Rolling your eyes, you playfully pouted until you felt a finger hooking under your chin and tilting it upward. His eyes sparkled differently than they had at the start of the night. There was more life in them, a hint of mirth and a sense of home. “I love you.”

There you went again with those three words that made his heart soar to the heavens. Were you trying to give him a heart attack during such a romantic moment? The blush rising to his cheeks betrayed his response to your heartfelt words. Everything felt different, imbued with more meaning.

“Why don’t we freshen up first, and then we can express our love for each other some more?”

“Agreed.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @eunoiaastralwings @koyunsoncizeri @ranhanabi777 @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @rain-on-my-umbrella @the-phantom-of-arda @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @ilu-stripes @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @bunson-burner @batsyforyou

[fourseasonsfigs]

Take a Sip by the Lake

This fig set was inspired by a behind-the-scenes video from the filming of Word of Honor's Episode 6.

We have a playful Gong Jun here making Zhehan laugh during the rehearsal for the poison sucking scene:

I laughed when I first saw this set! The exaggerated facial features are so silly and fun.

The seller originally designed the figs and planned to sell it with the rock they're sitting on:

However, when it came down to it in production, the seller cancelled the rock due to cost and told all the buyers to just make it ourselves out of ultra light clay. This plan didn't sound great to me, just given my lack of time and ability, but you get what you get.

Sure enough, these two figs arrived with no rock at all.

These arrived...and sat. For a long time! I've had these hanging out in my tray of "needs serious help" figs for, well, quite some time. This weekend, though, I decided it was time to start tackling that tray, and this seemed like the easiest one to start with. How difficult could a rock be? Famous last words, I know.

I downloaded a coupon for one of my local craft stores and headed out. Michaels had quite the array of Sculpey and Fimo clay packets. I ended up buying "grey granite" Sculpey clay, since I liked the idea of not having to paint the rock.

I probably spent 20-30 minutes putting a rock together - I made it too small at first, and then realized pretty quickly that not only did I need to make it bigger, but I needed a higher area in the back for Gong Jun to rest his hand on. I started gently arranging the figs on the rock as I worked, so that I'd have indents in the clay to go off on as I modeled.

Here's the finished rock. You can see the indents there for A-Xu's robe to slot into.

Gosh, I was happy with it when I finished it, but in the harsh light of my camera I have to admit it doesn't look as good as I thought it did.

Here's the top view. Looks a little better there, right?

I baked the rock for about 40 minutes. I'm not entirely sure if that was enough, but it seemed to be pretty well cooked.

Happily, all the little marks the figs made when I pressed them into the clay made them very easy to assemble on the rock. A little bit of glue, and they sat pretty solidly.

Not looking too bad, actually!

Oh no, I take it all back. I worked so hard at getting Gong Jun's hand to rest right on the rock...what happened??? I must have glued him a little bit too far up on the rock. Ugh.

UGH. It really is not resting on the rock! The crazy thing is, when I look at it just in my hand, it really looks like it's resting right on top.

I'd say it shrank during baking, but it didn't. I think this is just some poor eyesight. Well, you can see how I did design it to be a perfect resting place.

All I can see is the hand not touching the rock, but I will say the modeling the fig maker did on their hair is really nice. This whole set is really quite cute, if a little ridiculous! Which I'm enjoying, of course.

Here's a close up of the drugman bite.

This is a very small set - all the figs I have in this style run fairly small. You can see the size compared to a "regular" fig in most common style.

This clay actually has the faintest sparkle to it, just like actual granite. It's really hard to photograph it - I brought it out in the sunlight to try to capture it, but all you can see is some light spots that look like dust. It's actually quite subtle and pretty though.

I took some bottoms-up pics before I glued them to the rock. You can see their boots and pants quite well from this angle.

With how difficult a rock was to make, I can't even imagine modeling these. It's all computer driven I imagine, but still.

...not sure why I cut off the bottom of this pic when photographing! My goodness.

Well, at least from one angle I'm glad to see the hand looks firmly on the rock!

The fig maker included box card art and an even more exaggerated rendition of the art on a pin? Mirror? I can't recall now, it's been so long. You'll notice the fig maker even included the little kissy lips that were on the video as well.

Well, I get a good chuckle out of this fig set - Gong Jun and Zhang Zhehan had so much fun on set, and it's nice to see how lighthearted and happy this is!

Material: Resin

Fig Count: (+2) 531

Scene Count: 38

Rating: Mwah! 💋

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