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#pinning this again I don’t care sue me
daenerys-targaryen · 4 months
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KELLY REILLY as BETH DUTTON 🌪 Yellowstone: 4x10 “Grass on the Streets and Weeds on the Rooftops"
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crimsonedquill · 11 months
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Soft lazy morning sex headcanons (Hogwarts Legacy)
Was in the vibe for some fluffy smut HCs, so figured I might as well make this one my first for HL. Also, I changed up my usual sequence for this post to reflect the order in which I wrote them (sue me)
NSFW (18+), obviously.
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Poppy Sweeting 🦡
You don’t know how she does it, getting out of bed and already having finished half of her chores by the time you wake up
That said, she doesn’t protest when you pull her back in, telling her that mornings are for sleep
Her giggles turn to soft moans when you start placing sloppy kisses on her neck and your hand sneaks down into her skirt, your fingers working her clit with an expertise that has her unravelling at your touch alone
Within moments her clothes are off and you two are back between the sheets, the sweetness of your lovemaking ridding you of any sleep still on your mind
She’s always the first to cum, her little whines stifled by your lips
You’ll lie basking in your afterglow together, and she asks how she’s ever going to get anything done when you treat her like that.
Ominis Gaunt 🐍
Sleep might be the only thing in the world he loves more than you, so you know you have some competition
Pressing soft kisses to his nape or caressing his lobe with your lips doesn’t seem to work, even though the little trembles running through his body don’t escape your notice
You know he’s awake, so you have no intention of letting him off the hook that easily
You kiss your way down, making sure to pay attention to every small birthmark and imperfection on his creamy white skin
He finally catches on when you’re past his navel, his fingers lazily tangling themselves into your hair as you close your lips around him
You don’t stop until you hear him groaning, his release betraying his awakening
He’s fully intent on returning the favour, which means it’s well afternoon by the time you’re both done. Totally worth it. 
Natsai Onai 🦁
There’s nothing better than waking up holding the stark naked form of your Gryffindor goddess in your arms
You take the time to kiss each other awake before she gets up to prepare a bath for you both
Sliding into the soapy water, you could easily fall asleep all over again as you relax into her arms, her breasts cushioning your back as she starts taking care of you
She gives the best massages, tenderly washing your arms and shoulders as you feel yourself getting lighter
It never comes to that though, as her hands get to work practising that special kind of magic that has you moaning out her name within minutes
She gently works you to your climax, after which she’ll draw out the aftershocks by placing gentle kisses on your shoulders
There’s definitely no better way to start the day than Natty’s baths.
Sebastian Sallow 🐍
You know last night was good when you pick up right where you left off
He has you pinned down easily, breathing into the crook of your neck with a wanting that leaves you melting like honey into his embrace
Running his hands all over your body is something he’ll never be able to resist. He knows all the little places that make you squirm, leaving no inch of skin untouched
Whether it’s taking you in a gentle spooning position or devouring you as you ride his face, he always treats you like royalty, not allowing himself any pleasure until you’re a sweaty hot mess
By the time you both have your needs fulfilled, the sun is already up and you’re probably even more tired than before
That doesn’t stop you from cuddling until you fall asleep again. The world can wait, especially with the arms of that dreamy Slytherin boy wrapped around you.
Imelda Reyes 🐍
It’s literally physically impossible for her to sleep in. She’s always up when you awaken to a new day, either doing push-ups or stretching her ethereally fit body
You often just lie there and admire her as she works out, relishing the way her muscles move under her delightfully exposed skin
She knows that you’re ogling her and she loves it. If she’s in the mood, she’ll taunt you with some teasing remarks to reel you in
It doesn’t take long for you to bite, and within minutes you’re entangled in all kinds of special yoga exercises that have you both sweating and crying out each other’s names
You tend to end up in a heap of limbs on the floor, which doesn’t bother you in the slightest. In fact, when you feel Imelda’s lips on your naked skin again, you figure the two of you could perfectly go for a few more rounds…
Amit Thakkar 🦅
Mornings with Amit are quite peaceful. He tends to stay up late to study, so he’s often still asleep by the time you wake up
He loves it when you use your body to wake him up, softly kissing his neck while you interlock your legs with his
There is no escape from some welcome friction as your sensitive parts start rubbing together, your hearts beating as one as you hold each other close
Things quickly escalate and soon you kick off the sheets, the breeze of cool air bringing relief to your hot bodies
You love it when he comes first, trying to bring him just a little closer with your legs before you come crashing over the edge, burying yourself in his neck to stifle your moans
You’ll need some help untangling yourselves when you’ve both ridden out your highs. That’s alright; all the more an excuse to keep him in bed a little longer.
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harryforvogue · 5 months
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omg plssss do jealous yasmine’s harry 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 we do not need smut with that gal don’t even worry
Harry observes as Yasmine converses with a PhD candidate from another department. She can be stubborn, infuriating, and difficult. All things he doesn’t mind, really. They’re alike in that way. But she also has the ability to piss Harry off by doing nothing to him.
Two days ago, Yasmine had told the TA email chain that she would be missing their weekly meeting because another responsibility had come up. And after some digging (prying actually because he texted her relentlessly wanting to know what she was doing that would keep her from coming to the meeting – which he disguised as annoyance because they needed to make an updated schedule for the exam period coming up in 4 weeks – she finally caved, glaring up at him with those dark eyes, spitting, “I’ve another meeting, got it?”)
Which meant that Yasmine did not have another meeting. She had a date.
Harry would also like to set the record straight about two things. 
One, he’s not a stalker and there are only a few places that a couple can even go on a date around campus (and he knows Yasmine would stay on campus because she teaches at 8 in the morning tomorrow) and he just happens to be at the same lounge Yasmine is at. 
And two, he really really doesn’t care if Yasmine goes on dates with other people. She could go on ten dates a day for all he cares.
The lounge isn’t exactly a bar, but a hybrid between one and a restaurant. If it were up to Harry, he’d never bring a date here. It’s tacky and uncool. If it were his choice, he’d bring a woman to a sensible restaurant – nothing too flashy or distracting, and definitely not cheap. Sue him for knowing how dates work.
But across the floor, he sees Yasmine and whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is laugh quietly amongst themselves. Yasmine is in a pretty outfit with her long hair out of its usual bun. It cascades down her back, pinned out of her face. If it were up to Harry (which, again, he’s well aware that it’s not), he’d take those pins out immediately after showing up to her place. He’s never seen her angrily push her curtain bangs out of her eyes and it would delight him greatly to experience it.
Harry takes an irritated bite of his fries, looking away from them. There’s a game on the TV, some soccer match that Harry focuses on instead. He can’t help his eyes from straying a few times, but for the most part, he’s ignoring their presence.
He’s actually invested in the match when someone walks by ten minutes later. He glances absently, stilling when he sees Yasmine standing next to him, her hands crossed over her torso.
“I thought it was you,” Yasmine says, biting the inside of her cheek. She taps her foot. “Mind if I join for a minute?”
Harry’s eyebrows raise. He glances over to the table the couple was sitting at, finding it empty. “Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he says after a graceful recovery. 
Yasmine pulls a seat out and sits down, crossing her legs. “Did we cancel the meeting?”
“No, we just pushed it to tomorrow. Decided on that today when 3 people didn’t show up.”
She hums, reaching for a fry from his basket. “Makes sense.”
As she’s eating his fries, Harry observes her for any signs of discomfort. She looks fine, actually, though the way she’s eating his fries suggests she’s hungry.
Harry flags down a waiter and asks for another basket of fries and spicy dip.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Yasmine says, wiping her mouth gently. 
“How was your date?”
So much for not being blunt.
He expects her dark eyes to flash up at him, a growl of “None of your business” but she only looks confused, her eyebrows drawing down. “Date?”
“Yeah,” Harry says. He now feels a little annoyed at her coy behavior. “You were on a date – I saw you.”
Yasmine blinks. “You saw me?”
“Yeah you were right over there. The place isn’t so big is it?”
God, now he’s snapping at her.
She bites the inside of her cheek again. From the proximity, Harry can see she’s swept some shimmer on her eyelids, her mascara bold, and her cheeks a tempting shade of pink. When the fries come, she reaches for one again, biting into it without caring about the temperature. “No, I wasn’t on a date. It was a meeting. Been thinking about my thesis and I needed help from someone who’s already gone through this.”
Harry frowns deeply. “Looked like a date.”
She surprises him again. The corner of her mouth raises into a smirk and she leans across the table. “Spying on me?”
“You wish.” His face feels hot.
“You sound jealous, Harry.”
“Jealous?” He forces a laugh. “What would I have to be jealous about?”
Yasmine shrugs. “You tell me.”
“Nothing. That’s what.”
“Sure.” She smiles at him, her chin against her palm. 
Harry knows that if he doesn’t look away from her right now, all hell will break loose. He’ll kiss her and she’ll kill him for it. And he might just be okay with that. Anything from her at this point would suffice..
His jaw clenches. He looks away.
Yasmine taps her foot against the floor again. “I was walking out and saw you so I thought I’d say hi. Get an update on the meeting, but that was a bust. Plus he’s bringing the car around to drive me back and it’s too cold to wait outside.”
So the PhD fucker is still around. Fanfuckingtastic.
“It’s okay to admit you wanted my company.” He takes a sip of his drink. When he’s ready, he turns back to her.
“You wish.”
Harry almost laughs at the reality of it.
Under the bright lights, she looks incredibly beautiful. Her lip gloss has smeared a bit, and that stupid clip in her hair is slowly sliding out. Maybe she didn’t think she was on a date, but the fancy PhD guy probably did. And now he’s bringing the car around like a gentleman. Harry nearly throws up at the thought.
Yasmine pulls out her phone when it rings. He watches as she puts it to her ear. He hates the way his stomach twists when her eyes light up.
“Hi. You’re here? Great, I’ll be right out.”
She hangs up and tucks her phone away again, standing up. “I owe you for the food.”
Harry’s mind turns. The other guy is driving her home, but what if he gets the wrong signals? What if Yasmine lets him kiss her? Brings him into her place. Allows him to–
If Harry had a car, he’d offer to drive her home himself. And he’d say yes if she were to ever invite him in. He’d kiss her like she’s never been kissed, his hands all tangled in her long hair. He’d treat her so well. 
When Yasmine looks at him, she pauses, clutching her coat around herself a little tighter. “What?”
He can’t look away. Why can’t he look away?
“Nothing,” he says quietly.
Something passes over her face. But it’s gone just half a second later. “Well. Bye, Harry.”
“Bye.”
She walks away from him and the pit in his stomach returns. He puts his head down on the table. Jealousy is the worst feeling ever.
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transhuman-priestess · 4 months
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This one is a little different than other things I've posted before. It's short, it's not horny, it's a bit surreal. I wrote it a while ago, but I've never posted it here. This one came out of my head at a very stressful time in my life and it's largely a pastiche of what I was going through at the time. It's not literal, but you'll understand.
There's no sex (though masturbation is mentioned) in this one but there is a lot of explicit, semi-realistic gore mentioned. This is your warning.
If You Prick Me, I Shall Bleed
I was walking down the street last week when a stray bullet struck me in the right shoulder. The 5.56mm round struck the top of my right shoulder blade, shattering it into several large pieces and bouncing up and into my clavicle before exiting horizontally through my skin. Blood poured everywhere.
As I screamed in agony one of my fellow pedestrians on the corner of Chavez and Belmont looked over at me. “Uh, Ma’am,” He said, disgust evident in his voice. “Would you mind not bleeding all over me?”
I managed to regain self control and through clenched teeth and flowing tears I sputtered, “I’m sorry, my bad.” My blue uniform was now a dark purple. I grabbed several copies of the Falun Gong’s free newspaper from the dispenser a few feet away and pressed them to my gushing wound.
The light turned green and as I crossed the street a white woman in her late 40s with a “Choose Life” shirt on tapped me on my uninjured shoulder. I turned around and she said to me “You should sue, you know.”
“Who should I sue?” I asked, “It was random gunfire. Also I can’t afford a lawyer.”
“You should sue the city, it’s going to hell!” Her eyes drifted down from my face to my shirt pocket and fixed upon my trans flag pin. Her expression changed to one not unlike you might see on someone who’d just stepped barefoot in dog shit. She turned and walked away and once she got about 10 feet away I swore I heard her say “Fucking faggot.”
I made it to work, my shoulder mercifully having clotted. My boss was talking to the receptionist as I walked in. He stood up and looked me up and down before checking his watch. “You’re late.” he said, “You were supposed to be here 3 minutes ago.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, before gesturing to my shoulder. “I got shot. I’ll be fine.”
“You got shot? Christ. That sucks. I’m sorry but we’re really short-staffed today.”
“I said I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” He said, now browsing something on his phone.
“I just need to make it clear I can’t afford to send you home.”
I walked past the reception desk and through the “Employees Only” door and sat down at my cubicle. The first challenge of the day was to figure out how to use the mouse on my computer with a shattered right shoulder. I tried just moving my arm as normal but the tenuous newspaper-filled clot started bleeding again and a bit of what I’m pretty sure was my collarbone fell onto the desk. My boss picked that moment to walk by. He glanced at the bloody chunk of bone on the desk and shouted, “God dammit, Danner, your cubicle is disgusting. I’m gonna have to write you up for this.”
“But sir, I-”
“But nothing, Danner,” He said, “It is very clear in the employee handbook that all workspaces must be kept clean.”
“I got shot”
“I don’t care if you got shot, you need to be more responsible.” and with that, he walked off to go yell at Collins for something or other.
After another 10 minutes of trying in vain to make my right hand work with the mouse I used my left to pick it up and, with some difficulty, managed to change the settings to left-handed use. I found that I was mostly competent at typing one-handed, and for several hours things were almost normal, except for the occasional bit of blood-soaked bone falling out of my shoulder.
I decided to work through lunch and around 2pm I went and used the company account to buy some more toner. About 10 minutes after that, my boss came back. “Danner, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Huh?” I asked, confused
“Why did you just put in an order for 6 toner cartridges? We only needed 5.”
“Oh,” I said, slightly relieved that it wasn’t something I’d get fired over. “I meant to hit 5 but I must have hit 6 by accident. I’ve been having to type one-handed cause of the shoulder thing.”
His eyes narrowed, “You’re fired, Danner. Security will clean out your desk. Go home now before I call the cops.”
“What?” I said, alarmed, “What did I do?”
“Wasting company funds is serious business, Danner.”
“I got shot,” I protested, “and this is a tiny mistake.”
“Well you should have called off then.”
“You told me you couldn’t spare me.”
“That’s not my problem. If you weren’t capable of doing your duties you should have called off.”
“You would have fired me.”
“That’s not my problem. Get out before I tear you a new asshole.”
I walked to the door, and as I left I heard my boss say, “And the cost of cleaning your cubicle is coming out of your final paycheck.”
An hour later I made it home, having somehow managed to drive stick left-handed. I walked in the front door to see my boyfriend, Jim, sitting on the couch, masturbating.
“Oh, hi, Sara.” He said, not looking away from his computer screen, “you’re home early”
“I got fired.” I said, before breaking down and sobbing.
“Oh, hon, that fucking blows.” He’s still jerking his dick up and down like he’s shaking a can of spray paint.
I lay on the floor writhing in pain and my whole body convulsed even more with the sobs of humiliation and despair.
Finally, Jim looks up. Our eyes met, and with a sweet expression of pity in his eyes, he said, “Can you keep it down, babe? You’re killing my boner.”
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callsigndragon · 1 year
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Tasting the Ashes | Ch. 28: Red ✍️
Word count: 729
Warnings: mentions of pregnancy and fluffy Jake.
A/N: It's a small chapter but I will upload another one in a bit so stay calm everyone. And yes, we're changing the moodboard, you know what that means? d R A M A
Masterlist on pinned! Follow @meigalibrary for update notifications!
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"That bitch did what?"
"Babe, breathe. You're heavily pregnant, and I don't want you to be stressed." Jake pleads, trying to make Red sit down. But it’s useless.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll have plenty of time to breathe when I make that bitch comprehend that you don’t mess with a Mitchell.”
“Okay, but remember that you had authorization to kill my father. You can’t kill this girl.”
“There are destinies worse than death, cowboy.” Red grabs her phone from the coffee table and calls Jazz.
“What can I do for you, my favorite queen?” Jazz answers, raising her voice, so Red can hear her over the buzzing ambient of the district. She’s working a night shift today.
“Someone is threatening Hen.” Red informs her.
“Give me a sec.” Red can hear movement and a door closing, the background noise ceasing instantly. “Give me a name, I’ll find them.”
“Regina Attwater. She worked with me and Hen until her accident.”
Jazz types her name on the computer, instantly coming up with a criminal record. “She definitely has a past, and it's not a good one. But I can’t tell you more.”
Red frowns, looking at Jake. “Why?”
“It’s empty. Someone erased it. I can’t know why she has a criminal record.”
And then, it hit her. “Oh shit, Gina’s dad is in the department.”
“Wait… her father is Richard Attwater?” Jazz inquires, immediately opening an internet browser to search for existing photos of Richard and his family. “I found a picture of him with a young woman, I’ll send it to you, so you can tell me if it’s her.”
Red waits a few seconds and opens the notification that pops up on her phone. In the photo in front of her, an old man with gray hair, and dress uniform was hugging his daughter, a young, blond woman who looked defiant to the camera.
Yeah, that’s Gina.
“It’s her, Jazz. We’re fucked up, aren’t we?” Red mutters, feeling the tears in her eyes as she knows that, no matter how much they try to sue her for what she’s doing to Hen, her father will somehow drop those charges. She’s untouchable.
“Yes, we are. Unless you want to call the NCIS, I think we’re fucked.”
“NCIS will say that this isn’t enough to open a case against her.” Jake hugs her soon-to-be wife, caressing her belly and feeling how little Maeve reacts under his touch, kicking his hand. Jake wants to smile, even though he knows this isn’t the right moment to do it.
“Honey, we’ll take care of Hen. But now you need to take care of you. Please.” Jake insists, noticing the tiredness in Red’s eyes. She has enough stress with the baby, she doesn't need any of this. It was a bad idea to tell her.
"I'm ok-"
"If you finish that sentence I will put you to bed myself."
"This is getting too kinky for me. I'll call you tomorrow, love. Bye." Jazz says before hanging up.
"Jake!"
"Don't whine, it's late and you need to rest."
"But-" She starts, but Jake raises a warning eyebrow. "Jake, she's your sister."
"Yeah, I know. Believe me I want to protect her more than anyone. But I'm not risking Maeve."
Red gives up, making grabby hands so Jake can help her get up from the sofa. "Let's go to sleep. I'll talk with the other girls tomorrow and see what we can do."
"That's my girl." Jake smiles, kissing her forehead while helping her.
"Where's Liam?"
"Bubs fell asleep a while ago. At least we finished the story today."
"What story?" She questions while he leads her to their bedroom.
"Tangled. He really likes Flynn."
"Who doesn't. Have you seen the man?" Red sighs, remembering the movie.
"Hey, it's me. Your fiancé." Jake states, pointing a finger to his face.
Red sighs again, entering the room and sitting on the bed. "Yeah, but just because Flynn isn't real."
"You're mean."
"But you love me." She shrugs, with a teasing smile.
"More than you could ever imagine."
Jake turns off the light and gets in bed with Red, kissing her belly and whispering lovely words to his baby girl before cuddling with the love of his life and falling asleep.
Tomorrow, he'll call the family, and all of them will think about how to deal with Gina.
Together.
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alongcomesaspider · 2 months
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Kiss me Deadly
Rating: E // ao3 link // Ch. 1 // Ch. 2 //Post S4, Eddie lives, Idiots to lovers, Miscommunication, “practice” kissing
“I don’t know about this, man.” 
“It’s really not a big deal, I swear. Tommy and I did it in high school.” 
“I’m sorry, you and Tommy fucking Hagan made out in high school?”
“Yeah! As like… practice.” 
Eddie’s just staring blankly at Steve now with his mouth open slightly. They’re both sitting cross legged on Steve’s plush living room floor. They’ve got some random drinks and snacks open haphazardly on the coffee table between them. Eddie’s rolling a joint for the two of them but has stopped halfway and put it down for this frankly insane line of conversation. The Clue movie might still be playing on the TV but Eddie isn’t really sure. Doesn’t really care. He’s more occupied with the fact that Steve Harrington, one beer in, is offering to teach Eddie how to kiss. 
It started out innocently enough. Steve seemed so surprised by Eddie’s lack of experience. Eddie explained it wasn’t for lack of trying which led into a whole conversation about flagging which was kinda funny. Steve asked what people who liked to top and bottom did with their handkerchief and Eddie just laughed and said he didn’t know. Eddie then nearly choked on his beer when Steve cut through the silence to offer this absolutely ludicrous idea. I mean, it’s not like Eddie hasn’t thought about kissing Steve. He’s definitely thought about it. Maybe even got off to the thought of him once or twice. 
I mean, with how close they’ve been this past summer how could he not? What with Steve always running around in the smallest shorts known to man and picking up Eddie with barely any effort to throw him in the pool. While shirtless, mind you! That’s not to even mention all the play fighting. Eddie was shocked he managed to not pop a boner the last time they wrestled. Steve’s whole body weight had him pinned against the ground, helpless. That alone really did it for him. The huskily whispered, ‘gotcha.’ Steve gave to him right against his ear certainly didn’t help matters. Sue him if he’s used his imagination a little. 
Apparently Eddie’s been staring too long because now Steve sounds a little defensive when he speaks again. 
“Look, man you don’t have to say yes. I was just offering.” 
Oh, he has to save this. Obviously he wants to kiss Steve. Are these ideal circumstances? No. But I mean, what was he expecting? For Steve to, magically and against every law in the universe, return his weird fucking crush one day? Yeah, get real.
“No, no. I do. I want to.” 
Mmm, too honest. Dial it back.
“I mean, if you think it’ll help.”
Eddie thinks he did good because Steve’s lopsided smile is back and he’s stopped nervously picking at the soggy label on his probably room temperature beer. But now that smile looks a little mischievous and he’s climbing onto the couch and patting his lap. 
“C’mere then.”
Oh, Jesus H. Christ.
“Alright.” 
Eddie takes one last swig of his beer as he climbs to his feet. Licks his lips as he sets down the bottle on the coffee table with a clink. His heart is beating so fast and hard he can hear the blood rushing in his fucking ears. Steve just looks up at him so sweetly as Eddie lowers himself into his lap. Steve can feel that Eddie is trying to hold back some of his body weight. In response he scrunches up his eyebrows and then does something that makes Eddie want to scream. He grabs Eddie’s hips firmly, but not harshly, and pulls him down until he’s fully sat. 
“You’re not that heavy dude. Do you not remember me picking you up last weekend?”
Only been jerking off to the thought of it like every night since, why?
“Yeah, yeah. I’m not that light either. Still had your ass pinned in that boathouse, Stevie.”
Something not unlike arousal flashes across Steve’s face at the memory and he shifts a little under him. Or maybe Eddie was just projecting. At the time Eddie was terrified obviously but his fucked up brain has since altered the memory a bit. Or, at least conjured up some alternate hornier scenario. 
“No, no you’re right. I’m sorry. You’re a big, strong boy.” 
Steve’s tone is sarcastic and his smile is wide. Eddie laughs and shoves his shoulder. Now they’re both laughing. The tension dissipates a bit but only briefly. 
“Shut up. So annoying.”
Their laughter naturally dies down and now Steve’s looking up at Eddie like he wants to devour him. Or again, maybe Eddie is projecting. He looks so pretty with the late afternoon light catching in his eyes from the window. Eddie tries to take a deep breath into his lungs. Realizes he’s shaking a little with how much he wants this. 
“Okay, so… what now?” 
Steve’s smile only widens further. His voice is soft but direct.
“Now you kiss me. Show me what I’m working with first. Then I’ll give you pointers.” 
The way Steve just laid it out all simple like that is messing with Eddie’s head immeasurably. The soft timbre of his voice rattles around in Eddie’s skull. Fucks him all sorts of up.
“Okay.”
Eddie’s voice comes out shakier than he would like and Steve rubs slow circles into Eddie’s sides. It’s somehow both comforting and maddening at the same time. Despite all his rattled nerves and ricocheting heart, Eddie leans in. Steve’s lips are soft and warm. He smells good, like his cologne and something else. Something warm and entirely Steve. 
Eddie only kisses him gently twice before moving to pull back but Steve leans in and captures his lips again before he can get too far away. He gets his hand snaked in Eddie’s hair by his neck and tugs just a little bit. That pulls an involuntary moan out of Eddie’s throat and he gets a little overeager. Tries to slot his open mouth against Steve more than actually kiss him. He feels embarrassed but Steve doesn’t seem to mind. His smile is soft when he pulls back just far enough to talk again. Eddie can feel little puffs of Steve’s breath against his face but he doesn’t want to open his eyes. 
“Slow down, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, baby.”
Baby, baby, baby. Holy shit. Did he really just call me that? What the fuck?
“Okay.”
Eddie tries to follow Steve’s lead this time. He’s rewarded with more kisses and these soft, content little moans that keep escaping from Steve. Then just as Eddie is getting used to this kind of kissing Steve is licking at the seam of Eddie’s mouth. Pulling back just far enough to speak again. He sounds just as breathless as Eddie feels. 
“Let me in but don’t try and eat me, yeah? Play gentle.” 
Eddie’s whole body feels like fucking goo. Like he could just melt into the floor. In lieu of words he just nods and squeezes the tops of Steve’s shoulders. 
A few moments pass by of their lips just moving together. Then Steve’s tongue barely teases Eddie’s and Eddie feels like he’s going to explode. He moans a little louder than he means to and Steve smiles into the kiss again. Their kisses turn deeper, then. Desperate, almost frantic. They’re both breathing hard. Steve grinds his hips up into his and Eddie realizes with a rush of guilt and panic that he’s hard. Steve is pulling away and Eddie finally opens his eyes again. The sight that greets him is infuriatingly gorgeous. Steve’s hair is all mussed up and his cheeks are flushed so pink. Their eyes meet and Eddie wishes he could disappear. He starts stuttering and moving to get up before he even means to.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, we can stop. I—“
Steve shushes him gently and takes his hand. Guides it to the front of his own shorts. Eddie looks down right as Steve makes Eddie rub him through his pants where he’s clearly aching and hard, too. Hard for him. Eddie did that to him. That thought bounces around Eddie’s head over and over again. 
“M’hard too. It’s okay. You’re okay.”
Fuck, Eddie feels like he must have just died.  There’s no other way he’s actually doing this right now.
“My kissing is alright, then?” 
Steve laughs at the question and nods. 
“Really good. You’re a quick learner.” 
Eddie just huffs out a breath at that and relaxes back into Steve’s lap. When he makes eye contact with Steve they both start cracking up like they both just realized how ridiculous this whole situation is. Eddie rests his head on Steve’s shoulder as their laughter dies down. Steve rubs his back for a bit. It’s really nice but Eddie isn’t satisfied. Never seems to be with anything when it comes to Steve. He wants more. He lifts off of Steve’s shoulder slowly and cradles his face in his hands. They both speak up at the same time. 
“Do you wanna–“
Now they’re laughing again. Eddie lets Steve speak first. 
“Do you wanna stop for now?”
Eddie bites his bottom lip and shakes his head. Steve smiles at that and reaches up to pull Eddie’s bottom lip out from where it’s trapped. Eddie doesn’t think before he gets Steve’s thumb into his mouth. Sucks and laps his tongue in a circle like he’s sucking something else. He’s worried he’s gone too far at first. Crossed whatever weird line they’ve both created with this “practicing”. But Steve just groans and pulls him back down by the neck to start kissing him again. 
That electric feeling between them is back again and Eddie is so hard he swears he could cry. Steve doesn’t seem to be faring much better if the little punched out noises he keeps making are anything to go by. Eddie grinds his hips down, seeking friction. He’s met with Steve’s erection against his through thin layers of fabric and it's so, so good. He pulls back just far enough to look down at them. It’s just as hot as he pictured. When he looks up at Steve’s face again though he looks torn. Then he’s grabbing Eddie’s hips to stop him. He sounds breathless again.
“It’s getting late. We should probably stop.” 
Eddie knows it’s not actually that late. Plus it’s a Friday anyways so neither of them have work. He can tell that’s not the point, though. Shame and a little bit of panic swirl in his gut as he moves to get off of Steve’s lap. 
“Yeah, yeah. You’re right.” 
He stands there awkwardly for a second before speaking up again. 
“I need a smoke.” 
He tries to sound casual but it doesn’t quite come out right as he grabs his lighter off the table and heads for the back door. His hands are still shaking a bit as he brings them to his mouth. After flicking the lighter a few times with no luck Eddie curses and turns around to head back inside. Steve is already sliding the door open with a sheepish look on his face, though. They make eye contact as he closes the door behind him and lifts a lighter up in his other hand. 
“Oh, thanks man.”
“No problem.”
“You want one?”
“Sure.” 
For once the silence between them as they sit and smoke is awkward. Steve eventually breaks it. 
“We uh, we can just pretend that never happened. If you want.”
Eddie’s stomach does a weird flop at that as he finally meets Steve’s eye. 
“Huh?”
“You know, the whole kissing thing. Sorry I suggested it.”
Eddie doesn’t want to forget it. He wants to do it again. Wants to do way more than just kiss. But that’s clearly not what Steve wants. And what was he expecting, really? For someone like Steve to ever be into someone like him? I mean, sure they’ve been through hell together and like each other’s company just fine but that doesn’t mean they’d ever be anything more. Steve was just being a good friend and having fun at the same time. How was he supposed to know about Eddie’s weird obsession with him if he didn’t mention it? God, would he freak out if he knew just how much Eddie was into it? How often Eddie thought about him?
The cicadas continue to sing and Eddie’s cigarette crackles softly as he takes a long drag. He’s trying really hard not to be hurt over this. I mean, he did this to himself.
“It’s fine. You were just… helping me out, right? No big deal.” 
Steve nods and takes his own long drag. Slaps a mosquito that landed on his leg. Eddie feels a little sick. 
“Okay. Cool.” 
“Cool.” 
They both try to move on after that but everything just feels off. Eventually they both get tired and decide to try and get some sleep. Eddie isn’t sure whether he’s happy or not that Steve still wants to share a bed like they normally do. 
That night the warmth from Steve that has always lulled him to sleep does nothing but keep him awake. 
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The Daily Dad
Things you might want to know, for Dec 19, 2023:
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23andMe confirms hackers stole ancestry data on 6.9 million users — It’s probably too late and my warnings are pointless, but please kids… don’t give something as valuable as your DNA to a for-profit company that views security as a cost-center. It’s not just the millions of 23andMe suckerscustomers who have lost control of their genetic identity… their family members are compromised, too. Maybe it’s just me, but finding out you’re actually 8% Neanderthal isn’t worth giving the Russian mob the blueprints to your ancestry.
COMIXOLOGY, RIP — I was there at the start, with my little iPhone 3GS, ready to plow through a digital comic collection in Guided View mode. I was certain Comixology was going to save the comics business, and revitalize the audience. Now here we are at the end, nothing has been achieved, and a decade of progress has disappeared into the Kndle app, never to be seen again. Fucking A.
Using the iPad Pro as a Portable Monitor for My Nintendo Switch with Orion, a Capture Card, and a Battery Pack — Okay, I eat this kind of shit up. It’s absurd on a practical level, but it’s the kind of thing I’m likely to try, just for the hell of it.
Here’s what intentionally crashing a plane for YouTube clicks gets you — To paraphrase Robin Williams: the ability to crash a plane for attention is God’s way of telling you that you’re making too much money.
Facebook Messenger Rolls Out End-to-End Encryption by Default — About fucking time, Zuck. I guess he figures the petabytes of pre-E2E conversations that they can use to train their LLM will suffice, so it’s time to let the peasants have their privacy.
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Noah Hawley: How 'Twin Peaks' Influenced My Work — If you were between 16 and 30 in 1990 and had any sort of creative impulse, Twin Peaks influenced your work.
What Did It Mean That Howard the Duck Was Trapped 'in a World He Never Made'? — The ‘80s movie and modern MCU cameos don’t do justice to the comic book Howard of the 1970s. He was dark and weird and absurd and (?) sexy and grown-up in a way that other comics on the spinner rack hadn’t been in decades, and I was enthralled.
The use and misuse of evolutionary psychology in online manosphere communities: The case of female mating strategies
The Bizarre Cottage Industry of YouTube Obituary Pirates
Warner Bros. Reverses Course on 'Coyote vs. Acme' After Filmmakers Rebel
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‘Now and Then,’ the Beatles’ Last Song, Is Here, Thanks to Peter Jackson’s AI — The song is very good, and the technical skill and care that went into its recovery is just as interesting. The video is just goofy fun, very much in keeping with The Beatles pre-breakup sensibilties. Overall, a delightful and unexpected treat in a year that was full of absolute bullshit.
Apple Now Selling Standalone USB-C AirPods Pro Case for $99
Texas sues Pfizer with COVID anti-vax argument that is pure stupid — I feel like most headlines featuring “Texas” or “anti-vax” should always include “pure stupid” as well.
How TV Executives Ruined Everything
Humane Debuts $700 AI Pin With 'Laser Ink Display' — Do I think this will be a success? No. It’s too niche and weird. But as a signal of life beyond the smartphone, it’s an intriguing development.
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DAK and the Golden Age of Gadget Catalogs — As a household, we didn’t receive a ton of mail as a kid… we saw only a fraction of the junk that hits my physical mailbox these days. But every few months, the DAK catalog would arrive, and I knew I was in for at least a night or two of nerdy, consumerist joy. Page after page of discontinued, misconfigured, or too-oddball-for-the-general-market gadgets were waiting to tempt me with deep discounts on things no one really needed. Sheer bliss, I tell you.
How to Stop Your Kids From Ruining Your Apple Music Recommendations
Prince's Purple Rain puffy shirt is up for auction — You’ve gotta figure Prince’s clothes would fit an American Girl doll.
Audible's Moriarty podcast understands what makes Arthur Conan Doyle's arch-villain survive
The Real Reason You (Still) Watch Reality TV
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thegoblinboy · 1 year
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Quick Blurb, you better read it because I’m holding you at gun point 😡 because I kind of really want to freak out about this concept with someone and I know no one who is excited about it like I am
Eddie crosses his arms as he leans against the file cabinet. Bags under his eyes, hair a mess, numerous stains on the ugly flannel he was currently wearing, as he stairs out the glass door and entrance ways. He was on the line of being tipsy and sober, numbing the pain. Yet as he watches what’s happening outside his therapists room, looking over the small area pwhere LAPD held their head quarters his heart twitches. Possibly another body part does as well but that was only for him to know- well unless his body decided to betray him. The person he was staring at was pretty fucking fit, sue him. He stank of booze and weed, and he’s surprised at how much he has been able to get away with here. His poor Uncle was definitely pulling a lot of strings to make sure he stayed doing a job he loved.
“You know, you should ask her out.” Nancy says calmly. Holding the clipboard over her lap as she stays put in the ridiculously expensive chair. Eddie flinches a bit as he had forgotten he was currently in here, supposed to be spilling his feelings out to Nancy Wheeler like it was some girls sleep over. He turns his head a bit as he coughs awkwardly.
“What?” He asks shocked. Fidgeting with the rings on his hands as he pushes himself off the filing cabinet. Keeping his eyes away from staring out the glass where Detective Cunningham, Computer Analysis Robin Buckley and kiss ass Steve Harrington stood laughing together. All of them had been working here much longer then he has, Eddie’s only been here for a few months moving from Hawkins. After a attempt to settle down again from his home state Texas. Is was obvious Hawkins didn’t work out.
Nancy smiles kindly, that annoyingly sweet therapist smile. Acting as if she knew something that Eddie didn’t. Though in his gut he knew that for the first time since they started to meet with each other, for court ordered sessions she finally got something about him wrong. If he wasn’t so scared he would laugh in her face, point his fingers at her and jump up and down on this faded couch and scream for the whole office to hear. To let everyone know that Mrs. Know it all didn’t in fact, know it all.
“Well Chrissy? It’s obvious you guys have some chemistry together, and I’m sure no one really cares if two detectives are together. Half these guys end up sleeping together at some point.” Nancy hums gently as she fiddles with her pen. Watching him carefully as she talks, noticing the way his face pinched up in a pained way. “It’s been a year Eddie, i’m sure your wife didn’t want you alone forever.” She says gently, though as the words hit him in the face it felt like she was pulling a trigger and murdering him on the spot.
Eddie laughs bitterly as he shakes his head pausing, before he’s kicking the couch hard. Facial expression showing how pissed he was, eyes growing dark as he points his finger at Wheeler. “You don’t know what my wife wanted.” He snaps. Watching the startled look on the woman’s face.
“Well- what did your wife want Munson?” Nancy dryly asks.
Eddies tossing his head back dramatically as he flops himself down on the couch. The guilt in his chest was overwhelming and he couldn’t hide this secret anymore. “Oh I don’t know, maybe for her husband to not fall head over heels for some stupid detective.” He snaps as his hands shake. His other hand fiddling with his wedding ring.
“Excuse me, but Chrissy isn’t stupid Mr. Munson.” Nancy says trying to sound as professional as she possibly could be. Though he knew that she was ready to defend her friend on a drop of a pin.
“You’re some therapist, thought you were supposed to get in my mind.” He aggressively pokes at his own forehead as she flinches away again. “I don’t like Chrissy like that, everyone knows Buckleys been making the moves on her before I even got here.” He snaps. Nancys eyes growing a bit wide before confusion starts up again. Watching the way Eddie wipes at his face.
“I know my wife wouldn’t have wanted me to - to come out here and fall for some detective who can’t even remember where he set his damn keys.” Eddie says bitterly. Watching as realization hits her.
“Oh,” she says dumbly. He throws himself up off the couch and forces himself through the door.
“Yeah- oh. And just because it’s been a year since my wife died, doesn’t mean I’m ready to move on.” He snaps before he’s slamming the door shut behind him. Moving his way down the steps feeling all heads turned on him. Staying on him as he pulls out his desk drawer to pull out his flask. Moving to leave the building, giving a playful wink towards Steve who was asking with his eyes whether or not he was okay. Adding a painfully fake smile on he dramatically leaves the building.
“Don’t play strip poker without me now y’all no crazy parties either,” he jokes wiggling his fingers at all of them from the elevator before his eyes meet Nancy’s eyes. Holding them from across the building, and for the first time since he got there it was like she finally understood him.
About fucking time.
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reeshyz · 1 year
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Title: Sugar and spice make Christmas nice Pairing: Paul Landers / Richard Z. Kruspe Presentee:  @cuteoutlaw Prompt: Naughty and Nice Warnings/Tags: Dumb ideas | mutual pinning | misunderstandings | sick fic Word Count: 2.574 Summary: When Till mentions that Paul has a ‘naughty or nice’ list, Richard wants to do anything to be on the good side of that list. Read on Ao3: here
“Can’t we try it again?” Richard asks, stopping his fingers on his guitar. He knows most of them are probably rolling their eyes again, but he doesn’t care about that right now. Instead he focuses on Paul, who’s sitting opposite from him. 
Paul sighs too. 
Shit.
“I told you it wouldn’t work,” Paul says and he sounds a bit annoyed too. Richard knows that they can do it, if Paul would only listen to him. He looks down at his guitar and frowns. He doesn’t want another ‘Mutter’ fiasco but this is his favorite song on the album and he wants it to be perfect.
“Bitte? Für mich?” Richard says and he can hear that Paul takes another deep breath. Richard ignores Flake’s grumbling behind him. He isn’t a guitarist, he wouldn’t understand anyway. 
“I will think about it. But I like the song as it is,” Paul says and Richard nods slowly. He doesn’t want to sound too controlling again, but he loves his solos the most, when he ironically can share them with Paul.
“I just… it would look awesome if we could play it together on stage. We could walk over to each other and…,” Richard starts but then he shrugs and turns away. Maybe the idea had been stupid, but so far he had almost no interaction at all with Paul on stage and he hates that.
Sue him.
“And kiss,” Till says next to him and Richard surely flushes a bright red. He tries to laugh it off, when everyone - even Paul! - starts to laugh as well, but he makes sure to glare at Till as well. He should’ve never told him about his feelings.
“Very funny,” Paul says and he throws a paper ball at Till, who catches it easily enough and promptly throws it right into Ollie’s mug of coffee. Ollie then drinks out of it without caring at all, looking Till right into his eyes while doing it. This band is a bunch of idiots.
“Well I need a break,” Schneider announces, despite him being on the phone constantly for the last hour. Not that Richard would mention that.
“Yeah me too,” Flake agrees and they both slowly get up. Richard almost joins them for a cigarette but he stays anyway. Maybe he could talk to Paul alone for a moment. Ollie is gone before anyone can say something else.
“No I don’t wanna hear another word,” Paul says, before Richard can even open his mouth and that is just rude. Richard pouts and Till snickers next to him.
“But you’re my guitar husband, shouldn’t you understand me?” Richard asks and he knows that it’s kinda mean to use Paul’s words against him but who cares. Paul frowns adorably at him and Richard’s stomach makes a somersault.
Ich liebe dich so sehr, his mind screams at him. His mouth stays closed though. Better like this. He had to learn this the hard way.
“Okay, fine. But I don’t understand. Tell me the real reason you want me to share this part,” Paul says and he crosses his arms. Richard sits back in his seat and tries to come up with an excuse.
“Don’t even think about lying,” Paul says, when Richard opens his mouth.
He closes it again.
“Yeah lying will get you on Paul’s naughty list,” Till says and he’s laughing again. Richard looks at his best friend and frowns. Naughty list could either be something really stupid or something… rather sexy. 
“What does that mean?” Richard asks, his damn curiosity getting the better out of him. He almost bites down on his tongue, when he sees Till’s grin.
“Well Paulchen here had a lovely idea for Christmas this year. We all agreed that this year we wanted to gift each other something, only Paul disagreed,” Till says and Richard nods. He looks back to Paul who grins, but it also looks as if he’s not really sure what Till wants. 
“Yeah?”
“Well Paul will only give people something for Christmas, who are on his ‘Nice List’ this year. If you continue to annoy him you will be on his ‘Naughty List’. Means no present,” Till says and Richard blinks at him.
“Really? But I thought you would make your christmas cookies again?” Richard looks back to Paul, who’s smiling so widely now. Paul always makes (or buys) the best cookies and Richard had looked forward to that. Last year he had even gotten a few that were shaped like hearts.
“I will, not for you though. Sorry you’re on my naughty list now,” Paul says and he gets up. Probably only to go outside as well towards the others, but Richard can’t let him go like this. He hadn’t meant to annoy him that bad. 
He had hoped that Paul would come over for Christmas, like he did last year, but maybe he wouldn’t do that either now?
“No, please. Forget about the song idea,” Richard says and Paul laughs so cutely. Richard means it though and the panic must be written clearly in his eyes, because Paul comes closer and presses his warm hand against his cheek.
Richard can’t help it and he leans more into the soft touch.
“Then tell me why you want me to play this part of the song,” Paul orders and Richard swallows. He’s nervous about this, but maybe he really should at least admit a bit of the truth.
“I just… wanted to have a special moment with you on stage,” Richard whispers and suddenly it’s too quiet in the room. Paul’s hand leaves his cheek and Richard almost whines at that. Shit. He had ruined it.
“Reesh, come here,” Paul says and he holds his arms out. After so many years Richard knows what that means, so he gets up and hugs Paul. It feels way too good and Richard presses his cheek against Paul’s shoulder.
He hears how Till leaves them alone and smiles.
“Does that mean I’m back on your nice list?” Richard asks a bit too hopefully. Paul laughs and it sounds even better this close. Richard sighs happily. He could stay like this forever. 
“Not yet, but I’m sure you can make it up to me,” Paul says and he laughs loudly, when he breaks the hug and sees Richard’s outraged face.
“That’s just unfair!”
“That’s life Rich. Don’t worry just a few easy tasks here and there and you will get your cookies,” Paul says and with that he leaves him alone as well.
Richard sits back on his chair and pouts at nothing.
He smokes inside, just because he can.
*
“Rich?”
Richard almost rolls his eyes at that, because he can hear already that Paul wants something from him. Lately Richard really feels like a servant to him and sometimes he wonders why he’s even doing that.
Fuck that damn list. He’s always been a rebel, why should he try to behave like a good boy now? Maybe he should just stop. But in reality he knows that he likes to do stuff for Paul and his stupid heart wants to be liked by Paul. Which is just so stupid as well. He knows that Paul likes him.
Just not in the way he wants.
“Ja?” Richard asks, when he opens Paul’s bedroom door. Paul looks miserable actually and Richard frowns.
“Can you make me tea, please?” Paul says and Richard hastily walks closer to him. Paul really looks as if he’s sick. Normally he never asks for tea, he would just straight drink from the coffee machine, if you didn’t hold him back.
“Of course, are you feeling unwell?” Richard asks and he sits down on the bed next to Paul, who nods the tiniest bit. He’s not wearing a shirt, but Richard is glad that the blanket is covering most of him anyway.
“I think I ate something wrong. My stomach hurts like hell,” Paul says and he pouts. Richard wishes he was allowed to touch him, but it would probably seem weird if he would just cuddle up to him now.
“Shit. You wanna stay in bed today? I could tell the others that you need a break,” Richard says and Paul nods again. He closes his eyes, looking so exhausted. Richard can barely stand seeing him like this, even if it’s just a stomach bug.
“Yeah that would be nice,” Paul admits and Richard nods to himself. It’s nothing that hadn’t happened before. Richard remembers when Schneider had been sick at their studio a few years ago. He’d been out for over a week.
“No problem, do you need anything else?” Richard asks and he sees the cheeky smile on Paul’s face, but decides to ignore it. He’s powerless anyway. 
“Could you fluff up my pillow?” Paul asks and Richard huffs quietly. Paul leans a bit forward and Richard takes the pillow and does as he’s told. Normally it takes people a lot more to make him follow their words, but he’d do everything Paul wants.
“There you go,” Richard whispers and Paul lays back down.
“Thank you,” Paul mouths back. They’re both just looking at each other now. Richard can’t help but get lost in those blue eyes again. 
“Anything for you,” Richard says, already knowing he will regret that. Paul smiles.
“Can you stroke my stomach too?” Paul asks and Richard feels himself nodding, before even thinking about it. He carefully lets his hand wander under the blanket and Paul hisses when his cold fingers find his stomach. 
Richard’s brain is completely empty. He can only feel Paul’s soft skin against his hand. Paul gasps when Richard carefully strokes over his stomach. Richard’s eyes snap back to look at Paul’s. 
The whole mood around them has changed. Richard swallows dryly. 
“Rich… I want you to do one more thing for me,” Paul says and his voice breaks. 
“Y-yeah?”
“Kiss me better?” Paul asks and Richard leans down before he could actually talk himself out of it. He slowly presses his lips on Paul’s, almost shyly. Paul has different plans and pulls him even closer, adding a bit more pressure to their kiss, even though it stays so tender.
Richard is sure that he just died. 
When he opens his eyes, he hastily sits back.
“I should uh… make you the tea,” Richard says and he’s out of the room before Paul can say anything else. 
Richard slowly walks back to the kitchen. His lips are still tingling, but he can’t help but smile. He’s still not sure why Paul had wanted to be kissed, but it had felt so damn good. Maybe Paul had just looked for some comfort? 
Richard always loved someone close to him when he’s sick as well. 
He then walks over to their cupboards and starts to look for Paul’s favorite mug. It’s an ugly orange one, but Paul loves it. When he finally finds it, he slowly starts to boil the water. “Paul is still using you as his servant?” Till chuckles, while he points at the mug and Richard sighs quietly. He hadn’t seen Till standing there in the corner like a creep. He’s holding his notebook in his hand. Richard shrugs.
“Well I still want to make it back to his list,” Richard finally says and to his surprise Till raises his eyebrow.
“What list?”
“The ‘nice list’? The one for Christmas,” Richard says, even doing the stupid air quotes. Till is quiet for a moment and then he starts to chuckle. Low at first, but he gets louder and soon enough he’s laughing loudly.
“Oh shit,” Till grins, even holding his stomach.
“What?”
“Scholle. There is no damn list oh my god. That was a damn joke,” Till says and Richard opens his mouth, but he has no idea what to say. So he pouts instead.
Assholes. The two of them.
“Then… Why did you two do this?” Richard asks and now it’s his stomach that is hurting. Till stops laughing, when he hears how tiny Richard’s voice had gotten.
“I think you should ask Paul about that,” Till says and he pats Richard on the shoulder, before just leaving the room. Richard forgets about the damn tea and walks back up to Paul’s bedroom.
“Oh you were fast,” Paul says, his cheeks still so red. Richard’s brain goes offline for a second again, before he shakes his head to help get rid of any thoughts that aren’t helpful right now.
“There is no list. There never was a list,” Richard says and he’s angry. Mostly he’s hurt but that always turns into anger for him soon enough. Paul looks caught, biting down on his lower lip.
“No…”
“Then why did you make me do all those things? To make fun of me?” Richard asks and he can’t help but get louder. Paul looks down to his hands on his blanket and to Richard’s surprise he actually looks sad and guilty.
He had thought those two were really making a joke out of it and were laughing behind his back. Richard knows they are his friends, he trusts them but sometimes those self-doubts are too loud in his head.
“It was just a joke Till made, but then I kinda went with it because…,” Paul stops himself there. Richard sighs.
"Because?"
“Because I liked having your attention all day and… and I wanted you to be around me all the time and… I’m sorry. I know it’s not right, but otherwise you would’ve never kissed me and…,” Paul starts to ramble and Richard has trouble understanding him.
“You’re wrong,” Richard says loudly and Paul stops. 
“What?”
“There’s nothing I would have loved to do more than kissing you,” Richard says and he hopes he understood Paul right. Paul’s head snaps back up and Richard tries to go for a smile, that probably is more shaky than anything.
“You mean that?” Paul asks and Richard nods. 
His heart is beating so fast and he can hear his blood rushing through his ears.
“Yeah…”
“Fuck, come here please,” Paul says and Richard walks back over to him. This time when he sits down, Paul pulls him even closer and before Richard can say something else, Paul is kissing him again. 
Richard doesn’t complain, he closes his eyes and lets himself be kissed. It stays as soft as their first kiss was and Richard whines against Paul’s lips. He’d never felt like this. Paul treats him as if he’s something special, something precious. Richard’s heart is still not calming down.
“Ich liebe dich, I was just so scared to tell you,” Paul mumbles, when he breaks the kiss. Richard leans his forehead against Paul’s.
“I love you too,” Richard says and Paul’s smile is so beautiful, that Richard can feel himself smile too. He can’t believe he’s so lucky to have this. 
“Now you’re really on my ‘nice’ list,” Paul laughs quietly and Richard steals another short kiss, before he rolls his eyes.
“Funny, you smartass,” Richard says and he strokes over Paul’s stomach again, when Paul lays down again. This time Richard gets out of his slippers and lays down next to him, so Paul and he could cuddle. 
“Well without this joke we still wouldn’t haven’t gotten our heads out of our asses. And besides ‘Sugar and spice make Christmas nice’ you know?” Paul asks and Richard smacks a pillow on his head.
“Fair,” Richard whispers anyway.
“And… I’d really like to share the Ausländer part together. I really liked your idea of it,” Paul says and his smile is so sweet. Richard chuckles.
“Only if we kiss like Till said.”
“Deal.”
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heyharoldsboo · 1 year
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So Aries just went public again, she says no one contacted her or ordered her to delete anything (even though she did delete some of her tweets I think)l netflix and the cast still follow Percy, no statement from anyone, Aries has the post pinned and keeps blabbering on twitter again. Wtf is going on? someone needs to say something, we need to know what is going on. Why has he said nothing and why has his team not reached out to these girls to see whats up. This is so confusing
Okay, let’s take a deep breath together, anon. I very well need it because Aries makes me so incredibly mad. Anyway…
Okay, so let’s go part by part.
Aries went public again - damn it, but I guess things were dying down and she needed to stir them up again. And it worked. Look at us all worked up.
She says no one contacted her - well, we already know she’s a liar, so I am not inclined to believe her.
I personally think she’s trying to force Percy’s hand to sue for slander so she can take her little internet show to court. Because with the “proof” she has and this whole twitter circus, no lawyer will touch this.
I hate to say this, because I am anxious and worried and I have been this way since this started, but we don’t have to know anything yet. Same as police won’t comment on an ongoing investigation. So far, the general public is so far away from this mess that they are in another continent. If he makes a statement, it becomes quotable by any media outlet. And that’s the last thing his team wants.
We’ll have to wait, and if you are feeling overwhelmed please take breaks. Please don’t engage in fighting with people on the internet over this. Take care of yourself.
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crayolacolor · 1 year
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hello!! made this pinned post to replace my about me because i doubt anyone ever read it, and tbh i put a bit too much information in there lol.
note: my name, age, pronouns etc are in my blog description!! this is just some extra info that would have normally been in my about me!
current hyperfixation: dragon ball z other fandoms that i’m actively interested in: infinity train, undertale / deltarune, ib, avatar: the last airbender, super paper roblox, hollow knight, warrior cats, the owl house, various other animated shows 
feel free to ask me for: - things i need tagged [ if i follow you ] - my discord [ if i follow you and we’ve talked some ] - my full list of fandoms, though i do have pretty much all the ones i might post about listed now.
things you should probably know:
- what i blog about fandom wise will switch frequently with my hyperfixations!
- my type is villains with tragic backstories, redeemed or not. i will post about them like any other character i enjoy. this does not mean i condone their actions. i tag characters’ names most times when i blog about them but if you need a more specific tag please let me know!
- i’m vehemently anti-cringe culture. i do not care if the kids (or adults tbh) are making mary sues and self inserts and 2016 esque undertale aus. as long as they’re not harming anyone, i think shaming them for it is harmful and stupid.
- fandom drama isn’t my cup of tea, i may rarely post about something that’s going around that i have an opinion on, but it is never an invitation to drag me into an argument. please don’t drag me into it if i don’t initiate the conversation.
and that’s pretty much all!! thanks so much for reading if you did, and if you decided to follow me, thank you again! <3
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fancoloredglasses · 1 year
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[RERUN] History of Doom (More hidden recording devices than even the NSA is willing to use)
[All images are owned by DC Comics and Warner Bros. Discovery. Please don’t sue me]
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The final episode of Challenge of the Superfriends ends on a sorta-kinda high note. It’s another episode (kind of) dealing with time travel and visiting the origins of a few characters, in this case Lex Luthor, Apache Chief, and Giganta. We also see what would happen if the Legion of Doom actually won.
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(Thanks to Pro Wrestling Fandom)
They get the tag team titles!
Wait...
Dammit, wrong LoD again!
Anyway, if you would like to see the original review, you may do so here. If you would like to watch the episode, Watch Cartoons Online has you covered!
We open on the ruins of Earth (with a montage of devastation worldwide), where we see this cheery headline.
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It’s nice to know newspaper editors have their priorities straight. I can totally see Perry White at the Daily Planet screaming at his staff: “I don’t care that the world will end at dawn! We’ve got to get the Morning Edition out!”
Anyway, three aliens land in the ruins and start investigating how Earth came to be destroyed.
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You can tell they’re aliens by their weird robes and the fact that their leader must be using some sort of futuristic mustache wax to get that much facial hair to suspend itself like that.
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They eventually find their way to the Hall of Justice, which one of them recognize (though they don’t recall the name of the “group of super beings” that occupied it. Maybe their records keep mixing up Superfriends and Justice League as well?) They deduce that the Superfriends (or at least their records) will likely know what happened.
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While searching through the remnants of the Hall of Justice’s computer, they stumble across Superman’s final recording, pinning the blame on the Legion of Doom. The aliens have never heard of them (THAT will be a blow to Lex Luthor’s ghosts’s ego!) so they check other parts of the computer’s damaged memory banks (that’s what they used before hard drives, kids!) to find out who the Legion of Doom are. I want to also point out that, once again, the writers, much like the aliens, can’t decide how the Superfriends are connected to the JLA, as the computer refers to the recordings as “Justice League memory files”
They stumble across Lex Luthor’s origins, and how he befriended Superboy.
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[As a side note, ever since his creation in the 1940s, Lex Luthor has always been a redhead whenever he had hair, including on Smallville. (The movies don’t count, as he was wearing a wig by then). Nice to know DC reinforced the stereotype that gingers are evil]
When he saw that Lex’s makeshift lab was on fire, he used his super breath to put out the flames.
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Unfortunately, Lex was inside and the chemical fumes were blown into him, making him lose his hair. He vowed revenge on Superboy and became a super villain (I guess bald jokes were more vicious than ginger jokes back then?)
[OK, I’m gonna hit the pause button here. During this origin, we have video documentation of Lex’s farm and Lex’s lab. Was the NSA keeping tabs on young Lex even back then?]
Next up, we have Giganta. (that’s quite a step down from Luthor. Were the tapes of the Riddler, Toyman, and Solomon Grundy destroyed?) Once again, the NSA recording devices are evident, this time on a Native American (I’m assuming Apache, since Apache Chief is involved) reservation. Exactly who are they keeping tabs on here?
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(Thanks to Super Friends)
I know, not much of an origin story.
Next we see the origin of the Justice League Superfriends and the Legion of Doom. Superman pretty much gathers the heroes together and says they’re now Superfriends.
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(Thanks to SuperVillainTelevision)
(OK, Superfriends debuted in 1973 (the clips didn’t have Wendy, Marvin, or Wonder Dog?), but the Legion of Doom wouldn’t start trouble until 1978. What were they doing for 5 years?!)  
We are then treated to highlights of previous episodes (obviously the animation budget was running low by now) that show the Legion winning just before the moment the deus ex Supershit kicked in...
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...but no mention of what happened to the Earth. The aliens decide to find the Hall of Doom to investigate further.
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Fortunately, the memory tapes told them exactly where to go. (So even though the Superfriends knew exactly where the Hall of Doom was (thanks to the NSA), they never once laid siege to it to capture the Legion?!) They find the memory taps and review “Attack Plan 1566″. (so they’ve come up with 1,565 plans that didn’t work? I think this would be beyond the point most would call it quits. At least they have tenacity)
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Luthor plans on sending a rocket to the sun, (wouldn’t it burn up before it got there?) which will cause a solar flare aimed right at the Hall of Justice. ("How?” you ask? Trust me, that is the least confusing part of this plan)
The rocket reaches the sun in seconds. (those are some advanced engines on that rocket! You know, if this Luthor was the industrialist that post-Crisis Luthor was, he’d make billions off of NASA instead of slumming with a bunch of second- and third-rate villains no one heard of before this show started) Fortunately, the Superfriends have time to evacuate (ya think? I mean, it is traveling 93 million miles...), or would if Superman didn’t want to grandstand and take care of it himself. (can’t blame him. Thanks to the restrictions placed on cartoon violence, he hasn’t been able to punch anything for most of the season)
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However, Luthor’s rocket (that should’ve melted by now) has a device that changes the sun’s color to red as Superman approaches the flare, robbing Superman of his powers! (you’d think Luthor would have done that earlier; also, the NSA has cameras not only in the Hall of Doom, but outer space as well? Exactly who are they spying on out there?!)
Superman somehow (given he no longer is able to fly...or breathe in space for that matter...) manages to get back to the Hall of Justice. (and no one has evacuated yet)
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Green Lantern then activates the global force field (doesn’t he have an all-powerful ring that will do whatever he wants against anything that isn’t yellow? The sun’s red now, right?) which reacts to the flare, causing global devastation   (which the NSA happily records for posterity)
The aliens decide to go back in time to prevent the events of the episode from happening (wait, this takes place after Secret Origins of the Superfriends, which means not only is it documented that Flash and Black Vulcan can travel through time, but the Legion have their own time machine and Batman has Wayne Enterprises’ experimental Bat Flux Capacitor! They could have traveled back in time themselves to stop this!)...
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...by shifting the moon’s orbit enough to cause an eclipse (why didn’t Superman think of that?)
The Superfriends cheer their good luck at the Legion’s miscalculation...
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...when Luthor interjects (wait, so he can hack into the NSA recording devices in the Hall of Justice? And don’t even try to pretend the NSA wouldn’t have recording devices keeping tabs on them!) and says he didn’t miscalculate!
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Kind of a fitting way for Challenge to end (this was the final episode of this Superfriends series, and the last original episode until Legendary Super Powers)
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counter point, m | jjk
pairing(s): jungkook x reader
summary: You enrage your perfect boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook, by being overtly sexual and inappropriately licking your kitchen counter. Why? Because you can and he's going to get horny regardless. He's going to chase after you with a spoon, so you better run!
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship; playful banter and shitty jokes; actually low-key crack and fluff; shower smut (fem reader, handjob, thigh riding, nipple play, marking / scratching, fingering, multiple orgasms, one pussy slap); too much wasted water, RIP; non-idol!BTS; the parenthesis are the reader’s inner thoughts; please help Jungkook, he's just trying to eat shaved ice, not pop a boner (he does anyway)
yes, the title is a pun it's the best laid plans couple and they're crackheads no need to read the first one, but it's there if you want more
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“Don’t.”
You grinned at your boyfriend (Cheshire-cat-style, but make it sexy).
“Listen to me, do not do it.”
You extended you tongue (lizard-style, still sexy).
Jeon Jungkook, your boyfriend currently making shaved ice, narrowed his dark brown eyes at you and barked your name sharply (angry-mother-scolding-their-child-style, but make it the hottest man on the fucking planet who you were down to get railed by every second of every day). His ash-blond hair flared out around his strong features, adding to his (horny) fury.
He could pretend to be mad, but you knew better.
You licked the kitchen counter.
“Fucking damnnit!”
You cackled as you licked the fallen syrup and ice combination that was on the kitchen counter, slurping up the fallen solider (a valiant fight, but Jungkook had missed the bowl by accident and he deserved an honorable death).
“I told you I was getting a towel!” Jungkook hissed furiously, shaking the white towel with the cute pink bunny character on it. “Don’t be a nasty heathen!”
“What’s nasty about our kitchen counters?” you countered (ey, yeah, see what happened there). “We clean them all the time.”
You leaned down again and licked the counter, pressing your tongue flat against the granite and making Jungkook growl, to which your responded with wiggling your eyebrows. He shook the towel at you again, but didn’t advance.
“Back, you fiend.”
You straightened and grinned, sauntering over to him and the towel he was using like a rosary and you were the demon he was trying to exorcise (he wasn’t pure enough to be a priest, but then again, that might be your fault).
“But I need the towel to clean up the mess,” you chirped, grinning cheerfully as you closed your hand around the cloth, holding it for a little too long, letting your eyes linger on his tense face, taking in his chiseled jaw, shapely lips, and flashing dark brown eyes.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
You smiled.
Ran your tongue over your upper lip.
“Like what?”
Jungkook looked like he wanted to murder you and fuck you.
(Not at the same time; that would be some serial killer shit.)
“Stop fucking teasing me when you’re not gonna do anything,” he grumbled, pouting slightly as you snatched the towel from him and wiped the counter that you had already licked clean.
“Who, me?” you replied innocently, grabbing the sponge to clean off the granite before wiping the spot once more. “I would never, ever tease you, Jungkook.”
He narrowed his eyes at you until they were lines and jammed his spoon into his shaved ice. “You never wanna fuck right after I work out.”
“Speaking of working out.” You pointed to his large bowl of shaved ice covered in syrup. “Should you have sweets right after working out?”
He clicked his tongue. “I drank my protein shake and I’m hot. Leave me alone.” He shoved a large spoonful into his mouth, still glaring.
(Oh, you’re hot, all right.)
“What a coincidence.”
Jungkook’s eyes shifted in suspicion as you spun around him. “Do I wanna know what’s a coincidence…?”
“I’m also hot.”
And you grabbed the bottom of your oversized sweatshirt (it was his) and pulled it up and over your head, leaving you in your underwear. You threw it at Jungkook’s crotch before prancing out of the kitchen.
“Alright, first of all–”
“Lachimolala,” you sang nonsensically, heading off to the bedroom. “I thought you wanted to be alone?”
Jungkook stomped after you, clutching his bowl and still shoving shaved ice in his mouth as he very loudly put in his two cents and pointedly ignored your comments (a skill he developed while dating you, mysterious why that would be).
“I know you’re hot, you’re insanely hot and that’s not fair, and, second, you can’t just take off your clothes and expect me not to follow you, and, three, let me fuck you, damnnit!”
You stuck your head out of the bedroom door and your tongue out of your mouth. “No. You stinky.”
Jungkook looked livid, still holding his spoon and bowl. “Don’t make me put this spoon down, woman.”
“Oh nooooooo, Jungkookie has a spoon, oh nooo!”
“Gimmie those titties! Get your ass over here right now!”
You ran to the bathroom and turned the water on, throwing off your underwear in record time, only for Jungkook to show up and get smacked in the face with your bra and panties (awesome, your aim was improving, all those hours playing FPS games was a sound investment).
Jungkook snarled and shook his head, blond hair flying everywhere, holding his bowl of shaved ice protectively as your underwear scattered around him. He looked ready to scold you, only to freeze and see you standing at the open glass shower door, fully naked.
Grinning.
(Checkmate, he totally wanted to bone you. His shorts were doing nothing to hide his massive tent.)
“See ya.”
And you slunk into the shower and hot water, snapping the door closed behind you, Jungkook fuming and crossing the space in two steps (damn, can you say legs, holy shit) and yanked open the shower door.
“You fucking brat–”
You smirked, water running down your body, tipping your head back to soak your hair, reaching up to slick it back with your tits up. His dark brown eyes ballooned to the size of Dragon Balls (those are pretty big balls, no cap). His shaved ice was rapidly melting from the steam.
A full ten seconds past.
(Kinda cold, bro, please close the door.)
You maintained your smirk, rolling your shoulders to cascade water down your body, down your breasts, dripping off your nipples, curling around the curve of your waist, streaming in rivets across the expanse of your thighs and ass, doing a little half-spin. Jungkook choked a little, eyes completely fixated to your body. You (completely unnecessarily, of course) placed a hand in between your breasts, splaying out your fingers, gliding it down your stomach, making a detour for your hip, sinking your nails into it (his bowl was tipping very dangerously now and the ice was half-gone), curving back to the inside of your thigh and squeezing your thighs around your hand.
(Okay, for real, you can close the door now, Jungkook.)
“Your shaved ice is melting.”
Jungkook started, picking up his jaw off the floor, and whipped his head to his bowl of now sweet ice water. He closed the shower door (finally!) and you breathed out a sigh of relief, finally wiggling under the showerhead to wash away the goosebumps and your frozen tits (you suffered for a good cause, but still), hearing your boyfriend straight-up slurp the rest of his shaved ice (it was practically a drink by now anyway). You pumped some shampoo in your hand and casually started working it into your hair before half-screaming as the door opened again and a very naked, very horny Jungkook invaded your personal space and pinned you against the shower wall.
(You weren’t expecting his speedrun of stripping, that must have been a fucking record!)
You blinked rapidly, trying to swipe the water out of your eyes.
“Jung–”
You didn’t expect to get anything out but you said one syllable before his lips crashed onto yours, spraying water everywhere as he half-entered the raining showerhead (still a bit stinky, tsk tsk), pressing his body against yours, jabbing you with his rock-hard dick (rude). You yelped in his mouth, but he didn’t seem to care (probably thought you deserved it, rude), taking your tongue and sucking on it, making you moan, driving his thigh in between yours and pushing it up, water suddenly gushing onto your heat and then hard muscle, you gasping at the contact, tipping your head back with a soft whimper.
Opening your eyes to a slight sting and Jungkook’s half-wet hair, dark silvery-blond curls around his smirking face, cocking an eyebrow at you.
“Not so high and mighty now, hm?”
(Fuck, he’s so fucking hot.)
Your eye began to sting very badly.
(Shit.)
“There’s shampoo in my eye,” you choked out.
“Oh shi–”
There was a brief intermission of water torture as Jungkook shoved your head under the showerhead and you did the awkward dance of one eye half-open, half-closed, rinsing out the soap residue while holding your breath and trying not to drown (beauty, grace, and blindness, the trifecta, right?). You yanked your head out with a gleeful sucking in of air, pushing your hair away from your forehead.
“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked worriedly.
“Why is no-tears shampoo only for babies?” you complained, wiping your eyes. “Don’t they know horny adults get accosted in the middle of showering sometimes and need that shit? They need to put a warning or I’ll sue.”
He laughed, rich, full, and wonderfully sexy. “I don’t think you’d – ah!”
The second Jungkook let his guard down, you grabbed his dick (sucker), and started pumping him with a flick of your wrist, grinning wildly. He gasped and tried to back up, but you pinned his thigh in between yours and rubbed your slick pussy on his muscle, causing him to sway slightly and plant his hands on the wall beside your head, gasping your name.
“O-oh, fuck…”
You used your other hand to grab his chin and pull him closer, kissing him hungrily, a slightly awkward angle but it didn’t matter because you had him in the palm of your hand now (literally), jacking him off with one and the other stroking his jaw, shuddering at his tongue flitting in your mouth, snaking your own out to meet his, fuck, such soft lips, and he still tasted a little sweet from his icy snack lingering on his tongue. Your hand slid back and cupped his head, fingers in his wet ash-blond hair, rolling your hips on his leg and pumping his swelling length in the other, getting him extra hard again, both of you moaning at the lovely pop of the head being squeezed by your thumb and index, before going right back to furiously kissing as you increased the speed and pressure.
Jungkook always complained about how you never worked out with him, but you always rebutted that said workouts never started because you two were too busy eating face.
(Also, why work out when you can fuck? More fun, more pleasure, less hating yourself as you complete the thirtieth sit-up. Clearly, your boyfriend failed to see the logic.)
“Jungkook, ah…”
One of his strong hands around your waist, arching your back, kissing down your neck, matching your pace with his hips, moaning into your skin, raising his leg even higher as he leaned down to wrap his lips around one of your nipples. Now the angle was really awkward, but you refused to give up, readjusting slightly, faster, harder, his mouth all over you, sucking hard, whimpering your name, your arm burning (and he wondered why you had biceps, sheesh), and you clamped his thigh in between yours, the real pleasure being how Jungkook moaned, throwing his head back, your name tumbling from his lips, so sexy with his dripping blond locks stuck to his cheeks, tendons standing out on his neck with the strain, thrusting into your hand to increase the pleasure and your arm was going to give out any second now but you just couldn’t, not yet.
“So fucking sexy,” you panted, your free hand tracing his jaw, shoving your thumb into his open lips, sinking your nails into his cheek because he was yours, all yours, and he didn’t care if you marked him up, his eyes rolling back, loving your roughness, wanting it. “Cum for me, come on, Jungkook,” you growled, even faster, even harder, thumb pressed into his lolling tongue and he whined, deep and feral, a mixed gargle of your name and pure ecstasy, cock jerking in your hand, spilling out over your thigh and the shower wall, hot sticky strings before being washed away, you dragging his face to yours, removing your thumb to kiss him again, sighing in relief now that you could slow, squeezing his twitching cock, feeling it drip down your fingers and smearing it all over his now-sensitive skin.
“So good, fuck, you’re so good…”
His hands all over your back, running his nails up and down, ravenous, messy kisses. Your hand stilled, arm burning, but somehow it didn’t matter, adrenaline and lust too much, and you wanted to hold him too, snaking your arms around his waist and digging your nails into his broad back, both of you moaning in unison as your ran lines of pleasure across each other’s backs, hips to hips, wet bodies rolling into each other, your drenched pussy on his hard thigh and his spent cock against your soft thigh.
“My arm almost died,” you gasped, his nails raking down to your hips, sinking into your ass.
“Heh, sorry,” Jungkook snickered (you suspected he wasn’t very sorry). “That’s what you get for teasing me.” (And you were right, hmph.) “This is why you should work out.” (This guy…)
You raised an eyebrow. “So I can make you cum in literal seconds? Your funeral.”
He paused, shifting his eyes. He seemed to be mentally struggling with the idea. “You look so fucking hot in workout clothes though,” he pouted, leaning down to press his chin against your breasts.
Uh oh, Jungkook was giving you puppy eyes now.
“I can wear workout clothes without actually working out,” you frowned. “And you never let me work out anyway because you’re too busy ogling me, and then you jump me mid-squat.”
He groaned, kneading your ass in his hands. “Your ass just looks so fucking good in leggings though… and the way your tits bounce, fuck…”
(Hello, Jungkook? You could, maybe, just look at the naked wet body in front of you right now instead of fantasizing about working out. What is your malfunction?)
You yelped as he buried his face into your tits, tongue snaking out and drawing thick, saliva-covered stripes over your breasts that were quickly washed away, whimpers in your throat once you saw the hungry look in his eyes, his pink tongue now circling your nipple, lowering his leg from between yours, your hands flying up to hold his head onto your chest.
“Ah, Jungkook, please…”
His lips closed in and his fingers grazed your slick slit, pressing circles of pleasure into you, leaning your head against the shower wall, back arched to give more to that perfect mouth, moaning his name, his fingertips finding your clit and rubbing it slowly, working you up, sucking your nipple and flicking it with his tongue, waves of pleasure and hot water enveloping you, pushing his wet hair back to look into those dark chocolate orbs, clouded by lust and his desire to make you feel good, already knowing that when you rocked your hips you wanted more, already knowing that when your noises became shallower, more needy, that you needed it harder, closing your eyes, faster, hot and warm from Jungkook and water.
“Yes, fuck, yes, so close, so good, Jungkook, ah, Jungkook!”
You felt the flinch of overwhelming ecstasy, immediately trying to close your legs but he blocked you, planting his thigh between yours to prevent them, your moan turning into a feverish whimper, clutching his shoulders.
“J-Jungkook, w-wait, oh, f-fuck…”
He wasn’t waiting, still stimulating your now throbbing clit, lifting his head to press his lips to yours, whispering hotly, you’re so sexy, so beautiful, I love you to so much, fuck, your brain barely computing language, w-what, oh fuck, yes, don’t stop, Jungkook, I love you, fuck, so good, his soft smile on your open lips as your moaned once more, ramming your hips into his hand, eyes rolling back, pleasure shooting up from your core, and Jungkook’s fingers plunged into your wetness, moaning with you, stuffing you with three because you were so, so wet.
“Fuck my hand, come on, wanna feel you…”
You heard hand (seriously? alright, your funeral, Jungkook), and enclosed your fingers around his now hard-again cock.
“Wait, w-what – ah, fuuuuuuuck…”
Your misinterpretation seemed to be a welcome development, your hips moving on their own, pussy clenching around his fingers, your hand a vice around his hard, swollen length, his hips thrusting into your closed fist, and now both of you just chasing pleasure, wet, loud, and hot, the water adding to the noise, skin on skin, your pussy making embarrassing sucking, squishing sounds paired with the rapid slap of your vicious pumping of his cock, feeling so good it was hard to speak, but it didn’t matter because your lips found his lips, and you could tell by his trembling inhale and soft whimpers that he loved you, and he could tell from your breathless gasps and desperate whines that you loved him, and all that made it more intense, better, sexier, perfect.
Your name in that silvery, needy tone, followed by, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”
His name, followed by, “Shit, me too, fuck!”
(Maybe not your best work, oh well.)
You slapped your hips into his hand, burying his fingers all the way to his knuckles, and groaned, scorching ecstasy overtaking your veins, sparking up your spine and into your head, squeezing your thighs together powerfully, clamping his wrist in your softness. His cock jerked, his gasp in your face as he spilled again, all over your hip and thigh, jamming the throbbing head into your skin and moaning as his orgasm continued spurting out, pulsing, his moan turning into helpless cries as you rubbed the tip on your skin, smearing his cum onto you, his scent so strong you could still smell it despite the water washing it away, loving the way his hard, muscular body felt against you, shivering and vibrating with pleasure, unable to help himself, practically humping your leg to prolong the sensitivity.
Heavy, shuddering breaths.
Water tumbling down, somehow far too hot even though it was getting lukewarm.
(Rest in peace the water bill.)
“Uh… my hand…”
You tensed around it. “I like it here.”
Jungkook narrowed his eyes, frowning. “I’m getting a hand cramp.”
You bit your lip and clenched your core muscles, making him gasp.
“Fuck, I love how tight your pussy can get. Feels like you’re going to break my fingers.”
You relaxed, laughing. “That’d be a fun trip to the emergency room.”
He snickered and leaned in, kissing you softly. “I love you.”
You relaxed your thighs and he pulled his fingers out. “I love you too, Jungkook.”
You squeezed the head of his dick mid-kiss and he slapped your pussy in response, making you gasp.
“Brat.”
(Hello, you two, you’re wasting water… aw, shit, here we go again.)
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2021.09.01 - birthday drabble
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in which jjk attempts to direct porn and you proceed to clown him until he shuts you up by fucking your brains out well dressed
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masterpost
542 notes · View notes
cjsinkythoughts · 3 years
Text
Ocean Eyes, Cherry Lips, Ivory Keys
Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 2747
Warnings: Cursing, mentions of alcohol, I think that’s all
A/N: This is a headcanon I’ve had for a while that I’ve been wanting to write about 40s!Bucky, pre-War. I kinda want to write a series about it, so that might happen. For now, enjoy this little tidbit I’ve written, with the prompt of Occasion for HBC’s Lucky in Love Day 18! (This isn’t beta’d so please excuse mistakes.)
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He’s something of a celebrity. A living legend. A God amongst humans. Starting as a kid in Brooklyn, his fanbase rapidly grew, expanding to Queens, Manhattan, even parts of New Jersey, just in the past few years.
You don’t get it. So what if he’s got cool blue eyes, soft chocolate hair, and a charming smile? Who cares if he’s got smooth moves and even smoother words? He’s just a man - a human being - with flaws just like everyone else. A talented and gorgeous man, who has all of New York wanting to fall to her knees to please him, but still just a man.
James Buchanan Barnes.
Most everyone knew his name, but there was a lot of mystery surrounding the actual character. 
You just don’t see what all the fuss is about. You’ve never personally met him, or even seen him, but you know people who have. Your friend’s cousin even claims to have danced with him once. Not that that would be hard. You hear he’s never danced with the same bird twice, and, considering most start dancing in their teenage years, that’s a lot of dames.
It’s not that you’re not curious about him - if he’s actually as dashing as they say - but you’re not about to stop your life for him like some of your friends. They’re obsessed with getting his attention. With seeing if they’d be the one. The one to finally chain him down and tame him. The one he’d go steady with.
It feels like that’s all you ever talk about anymore. It was amusing at first, but now it’s just getting annoying. It’s been three years since that day in March of 1938, when your roommate ran into your room, plopping down onto your bed, before ranting and raving about the new ocean eyed piano player at her favorite bar. And since then, he’s been in your life without actually being in your life.
Speaking of, here you are. Listening to Lucy, MaryAnne, and Jean gushing over the man, trying to enjoy your milkshake.
“I heard from Sally that Thomas said that he knew the brother of one of his friend’s in high school!”
“That can’t be true! I heard from Billy, who heard from Martha, who was told by Ben, that he only had, like, one friend in high school.”
“You’re kidding, right? There’s no way a man like that had only one friend.”
“I hear he does boxing and that’s why he’s got a body sculpted like a Greek God.”
“Oh my God! MaryAnne!”
You rub your temples, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as the three burst into fits of giggles. If you have to hear one more word about-
“I heard he’s going to be playing at Georgie’s on Friday!”
Gasps echoed around the table. “No way! Georgie’s?”
You raise an eyebrow, this actually intriguing you. Georgie’s is a popular little hole in the wall, on the edge of being a speakeasy, which doubles as a pub and a dance hall in Brooklyn. It’s one of the best hang outs for kids like you and your girls, but it isn’t very high class. Maybe that’s why it’s one of the best. “Isn’t Georgie’s a little…cheap for him? He’s been playing at the best bars and restaurants for a while now.”
“It’s a classic in Brooklyn. Near his home, probably.”
“Do you think he lives near there?!”
“Ooo! Maybe we could find out!’
You scoff. “That,” gesturing to Lucy with your glass, you take a sip of your milkshake. “Is called stalking, my friend.”
Jean waves towards you dismissively. “I think he lives near Tin Pan Alley. That’s where he plays the most, after all. Georgie’s was probably just an old hang out for him and his pals.”
“Wait, wait,” you shake your head, a thought popping into your head. You turn to Lucy, confused. “How’d you find out he’s playing at Georgie’s anyways? Isn’t part of his whole act not telling anyone where he’s playing?”
Giving you a smirk and a wink, Lucy shrugs. “I’ve got my connections.”
You roll your eyes again, turning your attention back to your milkshake. “So?!” MaryAnne squealed. “We’re going on Friday, right?”
“Hell yes!”
“Absolutely!”
“Not.” You mumble, causing the other three to stare at you incredulously.
“Not?!”
“I’m not wasting my Friday night going to see some fella you all have a crush on. Especially when he might not even be there.”
Your friends groan, exchanging glances. “And what’re you gonna do?” Jean crossed her arms with a pointed look on her face. “Sit down and read a book like you always do?”
You huff. “I like reading, sue me. I don’t get a lot of time to myself. You know that new girl’s been gumming up the works and I’ve had to stay late to fix her mistakes all week.”
“This is exactly what you need, then! Come out, have a drink, jive a little-”
You look up at that, an amused kind of smirk on your lips. “Jive? Me and my clumsy ass?”
You all laugh. “Okay, so maybe not dance, but c’mon! It’ll be snazzy, you’ll see!”
“Fine, fine.” Standing up with a sigh, you collect your things, smoothing down your dress with your hands. “I’ve gotta scram.”
“We’ll see you on Friday, right?”
You give a small smile, shooting them a wink. “I guess I can make it.”
***************
Friday comes a lot faster than you anticipate. You dress up; a navy blue dress going to your knees with white, heart shaped buttons and a bow around the waist. The shoes you’re wearing are your nice black and white Mary Janes. Lips painted deep red, and hair pinned back in loose curls, you glance over yourself in a mirror. You’ll admit; you look damn good. You don’t wanna go, but you might as well try to have some fun since you are.
It’s a cool evening, early May meaning the summer humidity hasn’t hit just yet. You didn’t even think about bringing a coat, but you start to regret the decision as you start walking. MaryAnne, who you actually room with, already left, being way too excited to stay put.
It doesn’t take you long - you live on the border of Queens and Brooklyn - but your feet are more sore than you’d like when you arrive.
“I knew you’d come!” Lucy grins, coming up besides you and linking her arm in yours. MaryAnne comes up on your other side and does the same to your free arm.
“Where’s Jean?”
“Where do you think? She already found a Joe to swing with.”
You laugh. “Of course she has! So is your dreamboat here?”
The grins that are immediately on their faces answer your question and they quickly drag you inside.
It’s hot and crowded and dim. Skirts with their beaus, guys with their broads, swinging and dancing to the lively music of the band on stage. Smoke from cigarettes, pipes, and cigars is evident in the air as they neared the bar portion of the building, mixing with the boisterous sound of laughter and chatter.
“Everyone’s talking about it! He’s here, but he hasn’t played yet. We’ve been trying to catch a glimpse of him, but we think he’s in a back room.” The dramatic sigh MaryAnne gives makes you laugh a little.
“Okay, khaki whackies. Let’s get a drink.”
You, just as you thought would happen tonight, are left alone at the bar by your friends who quickly found partners to dance with. A few men asked you, but you have never been a good dancer.
You’re lost in thought, running a finger gently around the rim of your cup, when a voice sounded besides you, pulling you out of your thoughts, a slight rasp to the otherwise mellifluous voice.
“You gonna drink that, doll, or just stare at it all night?”
You raise an eyebrow at the jest, turning your head, only to have your breath hitch. What a specimen. Ocean blue eyes, fluffy brown curls, cherry pink lips. A white dress shirt is pulled over his broad chest, gray dress pants hugging thick thighs, matching suit jacket across wide shoulders. He has a blue, black, and white plaid tie around his neck and you can see the edges of his blue suspenders under his blazer. He’s put together, but it’s nothing special, a normal Sunday best suit, that much you can tell.
“Uh, not all night.” You look back to the drink, before looking at the clock with a hum, tilting your head playfully. “Maybe another hour.”
He chuckles, gesturing for the bartender. “Tell me this, sweetheart. What is a beautiful dame like yourself doin’ drinking alone?”
“I’m not very good on my feet, I’m afraid.” You laugh nervously, taking a sip of your drink.
“Don’t come here often, then?”
“Only for special occasions.”
“What’s the special occasion this evenin’, sugar?”
You shrug. “My friends dragged me here. They’re practically in love with this guy who’s supposedly playing the piano tonight. James Barnes. Have you ever heard of him?”
He chuckles, a grin pulling his lips upwards. “Yeah. Yeah I’ve heard of ‘im. Not a big fan yourself?”
“I’m sure he’s fine. I just don’t understand the fascination with him. Let the man be.”
“I agree.” He hums with a nod, grabbing the glass of whiskey the bartender set in front of him. “I actually know him.”
“Really?” You look at him in interest.
He tilts his head with a smile towards you that makes you melt. “Yeah. He feels the same. He just likes playin’. That’s all. He didn’t want all the attention. He gets enough without that.”
You raise an eyebrow, finishing off your drink. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m Bucky by the way.”
You eye his hand, grabbing it after a second, letting him bring your knuckles to his lips. “Y/N.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, mama.” He shifts his body more towards you, running a hand through his hair. “You said you ain’t fond of dancin’?”
Shaking your head, you quickly defend yourself, “no, no. I like dancing. I’m just not very good. Got two left feet.”
He smirks, tongue poking out to run over those plump lips of his. “Well, with the right partner, it doesn’t really matter.”
“Are you asking me to dance, Bucky?”
“Not if you’re gonna say no.” He responds with a toothy grin, leaning his elbows on his knees.
You sigh and shake your head. “I’m afraid tonight’s not your night, pal. I just can’t seem to get myself in the mood.”
He hums, leaning back. “Is it the music? Too fast for you?”
“I wouldn’t mind if they slowed it down some, I suppose.”
He smiles cheekily. “I can help with that. Hold on.”
You grin at him, nodding. “I’ll be here.”
Watching him stand and make his way over to the stage, you quirk an eyebrow. He seems to know the band well, if the handshakes and the claps on the back have anything to say about it. He says something to the lead, who nods with a grin, shooting him a wink. Bucky laughs, but you can see a tint of pink dusting his cheeks, making you wonder what they were saying.
He makes his way back over as the band shifts tones, the animated swing changing to a slow jazzy number. Bucky beams at you, holding out his hand as he approaches. “Care to dance?”
You purse your lips, narrowing your eyes, but taking his hand anyways. “How’d you do that? Do you work here?’
“Uh…somethin’ like that.” He states vaguely, leading you to the dance floor with the other swaying couples. Pulling you as close as appropriate, his hands resting politely on your waist, he starts moving you side to side. 
“That’s not ominous.” You place your hands on his shoulders, following his lead as you stare at your feet.
He chuckles, hooking a finger under your chin to lift your gaze. “I’ve gotcha, doll. I won’t let you fall.”
“I’m going to step on your feet.” You explain.
“Nah. You’re doin’ great. You just need to get outta your head. Relax a little. Tell me something about yourself.”
You hum. “Like what?”
“Anything.”
“Uh, okay…I have a roommate who is one of the girls who begged me to come, I’m a secretary - I know, boring - and…I dunno. I like reading.”
His eyes lighten at this. “Reading? Whaddya like to read?”
“Different things. Depends on my mood. I’m re-reading The Hobbit for, like, the twentieth time right now.”
“I love The Hobbit.” Bucky grins, making you smile back. “I read it almost as soon as it came out.”
“Me too! I was planning on reading it tonight but,” you gesture around. “Here I am.”
Bucky lips pull up softly, his hold on your waist tightening ever so slightly as he pulls you closer. “Well, as much as I love that book, I’m glad you came out tonight.”
Giving him a little tease, you tap your chin thoughtfully. “Eh…I think I’d rather be at home.”
He pinches your side gently, making you squeal and squirm. “That hurt, sugar. That physically hurt me. C’mon, mama, your gonna say you aren’t havin’ a good time?”
“I just met you ten minutes ago.”
“Well, sweetheart, if you think we’re movin’ too fast, I won’t introduce you to my folks just yet.”
You laugh, blinking up at him. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Buck.”
The two of you rock for a little while longer, before the band stops, announcing they’re taking a break and a special guest is going to play a little something.
“Maybe James Barnes is here.” You say, a bit of intrigue lacing your tone, trying to see through the crowds of people who started gathering around the stage to catch a glimpse of the charming pianist. “I see why he would be over the attention.”
“Yeah.” Bucky sighs, almost sadly, giving you an apologetic look. “Listen, I’ve gotta go work for a bit, but I’ll be right back.”
You smirk. “So you do work here?”
“Um…kinda. You’ll see.”
You raise an eyebrow at his words, but he’s kissing your knuckles and walking away. You frown, but can’t think more on it when three young women are on you, babbling about their dates.
“Who were you dancing with, Y/N? He was cute!”
You roll your eyes, feeling yourself heat up, and not because of the many bodies in the vicinity. “Just…some guy.”
“C’mon, c’mon! We’ve gotta get a good spot to actually see him!”
You huff, letting the drag you through the crowd, shoving their way towards the front just as a familiar deep voice spoke. 
“Thanks for comin’ out, everyone. I hope your havin’ a good night. Let’s get this hop started, yeah?”
Your eyes widen when you finally catch sight of the man sitting at the piano with a polite smile on his features. He catches your eye and shoots you a wink, before his fingers start flying over the keys. The beam that he gets while tickling the gleaming ivories, his azure eyes lighting up, and you can’t fight the smile you get. He looks so relaxed, so invigorated, that it makes you happy just watching him.
“Oh my God! Weren’t you dancing with him?!” Lucy shook your shoulder obnoxiously, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, mesmerized with the way he played like it’s the only thing he wanted to do with his life. Which, as you remember his words, ‘he just likes playin’. That’s all.’ you figure it is the only thing he wanted to do with his life.
You just danced with James Barnes…and he’s just as perfect as everyone says.
You’re still trying to wrap your head around it, your friends jumping around you, trying to get every little detail of him from you, when your heart skips a beat and your brain malfunctions. Bucky had started up another song, slower and more intimate, and he’s looking right at you. 
You find yourself doing something you never thought you would; you’re swooning over James Barnes, smiling like an idiot, heat blooming up your neck and flaming your face. And yes, he’s just a man - a human being - with flaws just like everyone else. But he’s a talented and gorgeous man, who has all of New York wanting to fall to her knees to please him.
And now that includes you.
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teddy06writes · 3 years
Text
For His Hand
requested by this anon: “OMG! I need more Dream x George x reader! Please and thank you.”
as well as this one: “ can we have more dream and george poly fics? your writing is so good i’m lowkey obsessed” 
dream x george x reader
trigger warnings: some swearing
premise: fantasy/royalty AU (i’m a sucker for this conept, sue me), you and Dream, Captain of the royal guard, and King Georges personal Knight respectively, have both caught feelings for the King, as well as each other, though you would never admit to the second part, and between the two of you you’ve decided to duel for his hand, un knowing he was watching
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“Captain!” 
You looked up from where you were hunched over your plate, “Sir Dream, how may I help you?” 
He sighed, looking around the empty officers mess hall, “I think we need to settle this.” 
“Settle what?” You took a sip from the goblet, “If you mean the bet on McAllen finding his way to my office for drinking on the job, yes I am aware of it, I’m just waiting for the right time.” 
“I mean- I mean whatever the hell this competition that's been going on,” He lowered his voice to a hiss, “over the king.” 
You nodded, “Yes, I suppose it should be settled.” 
“Saturday, you have a break between 11 and noon, yeah?” 
You raised your eyebrows, looking up at him, “You’ve memorized my schedule, I’m impressed. I usually spar with Techno, or Young Innit in that time.” 
“Well I propose a duel, not to the death, I doubt it would do well for either of us to die for his hand.” Dream ran a hand through his hair, nervous.
Standing from your spot on the bench you nodded, holding out a hand for him to shake, “Your on.” 
~~
The days leading up to the challenge seemed strange, between small moments held between you and George, on unexcepted (and unnecessary) visits to your office, and somewhat awkward conversations between you and Dream, neither about the challenge nor the king, instead about the lives you’d led both before, and during your time working for the crown. 
All to soon it was time for the duel, and you were questioning whether you actually wanted to fight Dream or not, but feeling's aside you were pulling on your armor, sharpening your sword and heading out to the courtyard you’d planned to meet in. 
“Man, I was beginning to think you pussied out.” Dream said, grinning upon seeing you. 
You scoffed, “Like I’d give up his hand so easily.” 
“Don’t get to cocky,” Dream rolled his sword in his hand, swinging it out your direction, “You already sound smug enough to think you’d won.” 
“Sounds to me as if you think I’ll lose.” You taunted, tightening the strap on your shield. 
“I don’t think, I know.” And with the he launched himself toward you, already swinging at one of your arms. 
You ducked back and out of the way ramming your shield into his chest to force him further away, before advancing and taking a swing at his side. 
The man paired with his own sword, shoving the blade down with force, causing you to stumble, you could hear him chuckle as you scrambled to recover, hitting the ground and rolling to the side to dodge his next attack. 
Jumping up as he turned around you swung at him repeatedly, grinning as he grew more agitated at having to block each one with his sword.
Dream paired another strike, shoving you away from him angrily, sword coming down in a wide arc only to be blocked again by your sword. 
He continued to try and force your sword down, to get close enough to your neck to even call for you to give up, confused when you started to laugh, “What?” 
“Never let your left down,” You quipped swinging your leg around to kick him in the knee, forcing him down as you disarmed him, bringing your sword to his throat, “Give up yet?” 
He grinned, looking you in the eyes, “Never.” His shoulder slammed into the base of your shield, taking your moment of surprise to his advantage, he grabbed your other arm, twisting the sword out of it and taking it for himself. 
You backed away cautiously, raising your shield against any attacks as you scrambled for the sword he had dropped, barley grabbing it and ducking out of the way before another attack came. 
The man grinned as you continued to fight, varying degrees of success to either side, until he struck again, your blades clashing together for a moment before yours went clattering to the side and the next thing you knew you were pinned to the ground, a blade pressed to your throat. 
Dream smirked down at you, his face surprisingly close to yours, “I do suppose that means I win then.” 
“Careful with how close you get bud, one might think you’d fallen for me rather than him.” You smirked back, “And besides, I still haven’t tapped out yet.” 
You wrapped your legs around him, quickly throwing him off you, and quickly grabbing the sword from his now loosened grip you had pinned him, grinning as he quickly tapped your arm three times in defeat. 
Though you dropped the sword to the side you didn’t move, “I suppose he’s mine then.” 
Dream nodded, almost forlorn, “It would seem so.”
“Well don’t look so sad about it, the chances are he wouldn’t take either of us, even if it were allowed.” 
“That’s not what I’m sad about.” He muttered, and then, in an act of bravery, quickly craned his neck up enough to press a soft kiss to your lips. 
Your heart skipped a beat as you quickly climbed off of him, staring at him in shock, “y- i- you- you like me?”
He rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly, “Yeah. I- I think so.”
“Then- then what about George? I mean, what do we do now?”
“I guess we still choose who gets-” 
Dream was cut off by someone clearing there throat by the edge of the court yard. You turned to see The King himself awkwardly coming out from behind a pillar, “Uhh, hi guys.” 
Both You and Dream quickly bowed your heads, “Your Majesty, we- we were just-” 
“Sparring!” Dream cut in quickly, “Uh, Your Highness.” 
“Sounded like a bit more than sparring.” He muttered. 
“It was a duel. To settle a- a disagreement.” You said cautiously. 
The King raised his eyebrows, “Over me. You two were quite loudly arguing before.”
Dream chuckled nervously, “Well-” 
George held up a hand, cutting him off,  looking at you, and then Dream, and then you again before quietly asking, “Can I pick both?” 
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roanniom · 3 years
Note
okay but 10/10 would pull hot lawyer in by his tie and make tf out with him
Get You Off
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(Original photo source @the-adam-driver-files but made b&w by me)
Lawyer!Kylo Ren x Reader
Word Count: 1,252
Warnings: NSFW, simple PIV smutty smut, I guess semi-public (there are people in the next room)
The real question is, are you doing this before or after the trial? You giving into temptation when you spend time in his office, brushing hands over legal documents as he goes over the details of the defense? He’s telling you some important info about the one thing you have to make sure to say on the stand, but you’re too busy appraising the way his body looks in that gorgeous, tailored, fitted suit to pay attention?
Kylo urges you to stay focused, you’re not going to win otherwise. But right now you want to win something else. His eyes widen as you grab him by his luxurious silk tie and wrench him forward, bringing his lips crashing to yours. Though you’re the one who takes the initiative he catches up quick, hands rushing to your waist, gripping your hips, squeezing your ass. You’re so eager, propelled forward by the tension that has been mounting over days of listening to his authoritative voice, watching those massive hands sliding across forms and papers, imagining them sliding through something else. He presses in against you, caging you in until you’re backing up, pulling him right along by the tie. 
Until your back’s against the wall and suddenly you’re being lifted. Pressed against the brick of his small office. Small since he’s still new to the firm of course, though with his many talents you’re sure he won’t stay here for long. What’s certainly not small is the massive bulge that presses up against you as he grinds his hips against yours, your legs squeezing around his waist to keep you aloft. 
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you say breathlessly with a smile and not a single ounce of sincerity. Your statement obligatory but only teasing. Kylo’s lips bruise their way down your jaw, your throat, until his teeth sink into the flesh of your shoulder, causing you to buck into him and cry out. You should care that the paralegals outside his office can probably hear you but you just don’t. You know that if roles were reversed they would be equally happy to wind their legs around this god in a good suit.
“You shouldn’t have committed that crime, either. Life is full of things you shouldn’t do,” he says in a low, measured voice. His eyes are hooded and he watches you as he tongues the spot he had bitten so deeply at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, just as a hand slides down to cup your mound through your stylish cigarette pants. His index finger presses tight circles through the fabric, somehow zeroed in right over your clit, if a little off center, making you gyrate your hips in desperate need for more, harder, him. 
“But you don’t strike me as a woman who says no to her desires just because they are improper.”
“And you don’t seem like a man who gives a fuck if a woman’s desires are improper.”
Suddenly you’re whirled around and seated on the edge of his desk, paperwork flying everywhere. You should probably care about that. Those papers were the key to your acquittal. To your freedom from scrutiny. To your ability to walk away from this world of hearings and trials and litigation. But as he pushes against you to make your back press into the hard wood of his desk, his body finding its place between your thighs, clothed cock nudging insistently at your core, walking away is the last thing on your mind.
“You, my dear, are more than improper,” Kylo says, his voice low. His hands leave your waist – rendered unnecessary by the intense way his pelvis keeps you pinned to the table – traveling up your body to rip open your blouse. Buttons ricochet and it’s absurd, its cliché, its overly dramatic, but the way his hands descend on your bra-clad breasts are none of those things. More like rough, delicious, demanding. He kneads the heaving flesh and licks a long stripe up the valley between them, starting from your sternum and ending with a lascivious suck right beneath your pulse point. You moan at full volume now, hips undulating against his, thighs pulling him in for more pressure. Kylo chuckles against your throat, holding you down against the table by the weight of his grasp on your breasts. “The word ‘obscene’ comes to mind.”
“That’s slander,” you reply, though it comes out in a huff. Suddenly Kylo reduces contact, pulling away his upper body. You sit up on your elbows in panic, only find him watching you with a bemused smirk, hips still slotted between your thighs, hands working deftly at his belt.
“What are you going to do, sue me?”
When Kylo frees his cock – and absolute monster, red at the tip and leaking with precum – his hands move to your hips, yanking down your pants as if they personally offended them. You’d teased him in short dresses and skirts every other day since he’d begun counseling you. How fucking dare you make it harder for him today, of all days.
Once divested of your pants you pull Kylo to by the tie again, this time slower.
“I’ll sic my lawyer on you,” you whisper against the shell of his ear when he’s finally bent over you fully, distracted by the task of lining himself up with your entrance. “He’s a real wolf. Goes for the jugular.”
Kylo practically growls in response before sheathing himself fully in your soaking cunt. You clench around him immediately, barely getting to flutter your walls before he’s pulling back and ramming right back in. The desk squeaks with the force of his strokes and the way your body slides against it. Oh yes. The paralegals are jealous.
“Sounds like he’ll get you off,” Kylo spits through gritted teeth, though humor dances behind his black-blown eyes. Your own eyes roll back in your head when his hand roughly takes hold of one of your breast, manhandling it and pinching at the nipple.
“Oh he’ll get me off – ah!” You almost lose your ability to speak for a second, which would a shame because it would mean you’d have to stop this verbal dance. Through heavy pants you speak up again. “He’s really…really…good.”
“Oh yeah? He’s good?” Kylo eggs you on. Sweat collects on his brow and his perfectly coiffed hair bounces looser, more tousled, but otherwise he still seems remarkably put together, in spite of the look of agonized pleasure rippling across his face. His cock protrudes from his open pants but other than that his clothes are surprisingly unrumpled. You, on the other hand, must look thoroughly debauched with your bare legs around his waist, panties pulled to the side, shirt ripped open and his hands pulling your breasts wantonly from their bra cups.  
“Yeah, so good – fuck!”
“Is he big?” Kylo prompts, snapping his hips so hard suddenly you swear you feel him in your throat. When you don’t answer his hand snakes up to your face to deliver a light, orienting pat to your cheek. Your eyes open, slightly unfocused. “His cock. Is it big?”
“W-what – oh god – what does that have to do with being a lawyer?” you challenge, which gets a breathless laugh out of him.
“Everything, baby.”
And Kylo is big, and he does get you off – two times in his office, once in the court room the next day at your trial, and then twice again back at his office.
After all, he’s big good. 
~*~
Smaller tag list since I don’t usually write Kylo and idk who is down (let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged in the future!) : @paper-n-ashes @foxilayde @maryforyou @maybe-your-left @finn-ray-nal-beads @mariesackler @sacklerscumrag @hopeamarsu @aliveandlonely @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @safarigirlsp @millenialcatlady @can-i-pls-get-a-waffle @mrs-zimmerman @clydesfavoritegirl @direnightshade @historyandfandoms50
***Retagged because some apparently didn’t work - sorry if you got double notified!!!
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