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seancekitsch · 1 year

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Wow, I can get sexual, too: an Adrian Chase x Reader fic- chapter 4

series masterlist here

warnings: eventual smut, masturbation, twitter nude culture, the very slightest dub con but not really just saying this to be safe, mutual pining, idiots in love, perv!reader but also perv!adrian

a/n: its gonna be five chapters!!!!! and maybe an epilogue, but ugh there's so much thats gonna happen in this chapter thats STILL somehow not reader and adrian shmangin

You find yourself making uncomfortable eye contact with the little plastic rabbit superglued to the dashboard of Adrian’s car while Blondie drifts through the speakers. Adrian’s been on a women of rock kick lately. Something about Women’s History Month even though that month has come and gone.

“Every Obstacle is an Opportunity!” his little sign reads. Yeah, right.

But maybe the weird little rabbit is bright. Maybe he knows better. Totally, the little plastic rabbit is telling you that your borderline creepy crush on Adrian is simply an opportunity! And that this is his way of communicating that sign to you from the universe.

“Is that a different perfume?” Adrian asks, and you whip your head to the side to look at him.

Is he really that perceptive?

“Yeah, actually. Good catch. It’s a bottle called Alien?”

You’re not sure why you told him the name, it’s not like he would know the designer brands.

“Did you buy that because of those alien birds we fought?”

“Butterflies aren’t—,” You pause, and smooth your skirt, “No, I just liked it.”

“I like it too. It’s better than the one you usually wear. It’s sexy. I think I smell Jasmine? Is that it?”

You just stare wide eyed at the fact that he said you smelled sexy, and all you can do is nod. It is jasmine. Adrian is convinced butterflies are birds and you cannot tell him otherwise but somehow he can pick up on exact scents expertly like it’s some kind of superpower.

“Thank you, Adrian,” you say, and you just let the moment sit between you. You have recently had your hand between your legs over the mere sight of him and now he’s here letting you play passenger princess and telling you that you smell sexy. You think of your underwear, now knowing he possesses the other half of the set you feel wildly insecure.

Granted, if he actually does see the set tonight, he’ll know why is doesn't match and rip it off you eagerly regardless, but another more neurotic part of you thinks that the underwear is make or break. That part of your brain says that if your underwear set doesn't match he’s literally going to reject you and either kick you out of his place or leave your place.

You smooth your skirt again even though it absolutely doesn't need it.

Adrian turns the volume up on the radio, gleefully singing along to the Kylie Minogue song that started playing. His smile and his attempt to act the lyrics pry you momentarily out of your nerves and you join in, singing your heart out trying to harmonize with him.

At a particularly high note, you get bold and grab his shoulder while you both belt the lyric, not unlike how bold you were when you leaned on him during Fargo. Aridan leans into the touch, and even momentarily looks away from the road to meet the intensity of the popstar moment. You smile as you hold the note, eyes meeting his and god, his eyes are so pretty. Your hand stays on his shoulder until the end of the song, and then he returns to mainly focus on the road.

It's easy to take in his features under the streetlights this way, while his eyes scan the road and he now much more quietly sings along to a Taylor Swift song. He knows you're not a Swiftie, but you've told him more than enough times you'd never shame him. He could sing it loud if he wants, you'd be his audience of one. His smile still tugs at his face, barely dimpled and rising to meet his strong cheekbones. Even with his big aviator glasses you can see the way his eyes wrinkle a little at the corner when he laughs.

Its when your eyes drift down to his jawline that makes you stop. Stubble dusts his jawline, not anything strong enough to be the beginnings of a beard, but not nothing.

Just enough to give the insides of your thighs a rash if he…

Girl, get your mind out of the gutter!

The stubble surprises you because Adrian’s usually so put together, at least in this sense. He’s almost always clean shaven, he gets his haircut on routine, and he never bites his nails. Physically, he’s well put together. The stubble makes it almost seem like he was rushing, like he put off his routine for something else. Come to think of it, he seemed kind of in a rush to leave headquarters today, and then he made that video. Did he have enough time to…? No, he couldn't have. Could he?

“Hey, want me to find a classic rock station or something? I know you don't like Taylor, and I shouldn't, Dorian says she’s for whiny girls that cant get a date but I don't agree, I think she's actually really talented,” Adrian stops when he notices you’re just watching him talk. He does that a lot around you, you’ve noticed. Maybe it’s because you actually don’t tell him to shut the fuck up whenever he gets a little excited.

“Oh, but I don’t mean you think like Dorian. I’m sure your reason is…. nuanced,” he pauses, as if he was searching for the word, “You’re way smarter than my brother.”

“This is fine, Adrian. I can use this little dance you're doing as blackmail sometime when I want you to do something for me,” you throw that joke out totally expecting it to just go over his head, or for him to say something about the morality of blackmail.

“Well that’s dumb,” He replies seriously, “You don’t need to blackmail me. I would do anything for you.”

Your hand moves to brush the sleeve of his jacket, moving almost on its own accord.

“I— thank you. Same, uh, same for you,” you’re a little dumb struck by the earnest response, but Adrian has a habit of doing this to you, whether he knows it or not.

The rest of the ride to the bar is relatively easier on your nerves, his comment giving you confidence to form up a little more firm of a plan. You’ll get him alone, maybe asking for a favor. Maybe you’re worried to get a drink alone in this short little skirt and oh no, you’d hate for someone to get skewered because they touched something that didn’t belong to them, right?

That’ll have to work, you figure as he pulls into the parking lot of the bar. It’s nothing special, the bar you always go to for hang out nights, but tonight it feels imposing, the building itself feeling like a threat while he puts the Sebring into park and basically jumps out of the drivers seat. You hurriedly do the same and he grabs your hand to pull you into the entrance of the dive, the only sports bar in Evergreen your crew hasn’t been kicked out of yet, but you’re well on your way to being there too. The contact of his hand in yours is warm, so much so that your forearm even burns, you feel his touch radiate all the way up your arm and into your torso. It’s thrilling, walking into this little dive with Adrian holding your hand, like for a moment you can pretend you’re actually his and you’re just a normal couple coming for some beers and a round of pool or two.

But he drops your hand the second you spot the others. You try not to feel completely butthurt about it, but a certain coldness starts to grow within you.

You greet everyone with a smile, hugs and banter and everything normal, and if they sense your nerves towards Adrian, none of them mention it.

It’s easy to get your drinks and settle in at your regular stool at the bar, seated turned away from the bartender next to Emilia while Adrian and Chris stand in front of the both of you. It strategically shook out that way a while ago. Chris was close to Emilia and Leota if standing in the middle, you could lean behind Emilia to speak to Leota, Adrian and you got along best outside of him and Chris, and John could shout if he had something to add to what you were saying and you’d listen even if the other men wouldn’t.

Tonight’s soundtrack is a mystery. That is, whoever has control of the touchtunes for the bar tonight is a mystery. Its routine that at least one of your group throws twenty or so dollars onto the touchtunes app and torments the others with their music tastes for the whole night when you go out.

Usually you can tell who it is. Adrian goes for eighties pop or top 40 hits, John goes for indie rock or european metal, Chris is all power metal, Leota is blues or early hip-hop, Emilia is early country, and you’re usually the classic rock or nineties pop. Tonight is a weird mix of a little of it all with some pop punk thrown in the mix. Knowing you didn’t touch the app before coming here, it has to be your group fighting for dominance not only with each other but with another patron.

A Front Bottoms song about being emotionally stunted plays while you order your first margarita of the night, extra salt on the rim, and Adrian moves protectively behind you so no one can shimmy their way in next to your seat while you order. He always does this, as he says, so no one butts in and orders when it should be your turn.

That’s fair, you think.

The bartender puts extra salt on the rim just the way you like it, and you take a long sip before calling Adrian off of his attack dog routine.

Conversation flows easily from there as the booze keeps flowing. Good natured banter and ribbing sprinkled in with non sequiturs from Adrian that are met with mixed results but it's something you've come to find comfort in. You've almost completely forgotten the annoyance over the fact that your underwear doesn't match.

It gets to the point after your second margarita that you finally feel confident enough to try to get Adrian alone. No better time than the present and you've clocked that he keeps pausing his sentences to openly watch you lick the salt off the rim of your glass.

You all laugh at something Economos says about a date he’d recently been on- the fact that he’s finally stopped dying his beard seems to be doing wonders for his dating profile, and thankfully Chris doesn't make any comments about that. At least none that you can catch, but you turn your attention back to your drink.

You take another sip, and then dart your tongue out again to get a little bit more of the salt, your eyes meeting Adrian’s again and you know it's time to pull the trigger on this plan.

“Can I ask you something?” you ask, adding, “Over there? I don’t want to spoil Fargo for Adebayo, she just started watching.”

“I did not—,” Leota starts, and then stops herself. She realizes that she wasn’t supposed to hear you using her as your excuse to get him alone, and is a real one for that. You’ll have to buy a hat for her Keeya’s dogs the next time you get one of those weird targeted ads.

“Are you sure we can’t just text? I know that's bad friend etiquette, but…”

You don’t know where the fuck he picked something like that up, seeing as this team and your surrounding friends are not typical in any way.

“I want to have a discussion real quick, I promise it’ll be easier than texting,” you shoot him a smile and his concern melts into a smile and he agrees.

He helps you off of your barstool and you lead him to the other side of the bar, taking advantage of the L-shape that you can still see your friends but theyre far enough that this can be a private moment. You sit in a new barstool, feeling weirdly cold that its not your usual seat and Adrian parks himself on the stool next to yours.

“So what’d you wanna ask, Cowgirl?”

There's that damn nickname again, and his tweet from the other night flashes through your mind to shake your composure, but you soldier on. He casually sips his beer and the anticipation is clear on his face. He must be so happy to have someone else to talk about his favorite show with him, and you're just happy you have friends with things to talk to them about again.

“Do you think Satchel and Rabbi will make it out?” You ask, and maybe you should have thought of a question when you came up with this plan instead of winging it. With five more episodes left of the season, you know the bloodshed isn’t over.

“I hope so! I don't want the Fadda’s to win the turf war,” Adrian answers, enthusiastic to talk about his favorite show.

“Do you think anyone’s going to die in the next episode?” you ask, wanting him to just keep talking. You could listen to him talk for weeks and not get tired of it.

“Oh I think Gaetano’s gonna get it next. His brother’s tired of him and wants to take the power for himself! It’ll just be interesting to see if that happens, what kind of a power vacuum that would cause in a crime syndicate like that. I mean, I’ve never seen it. I just kill them all. Get rid of a flower at the root, right?”

“I think you mean getting rid of a weed at the root.”

“No, it's definitely a flower. What else would gardeners be doing so often to change out flowers?”

You don't know how to argue against that, so you just nod towards him and clink your glass on his bottle.

“Guess we’ll just have to see at the next sleepover, huh?” he asks, and there's pure glee on his face. If you didn't know any better, you'd say your agreeing to a Fargo sleepover was the highlight of his week.

“Guess so, speaking of, should I bring any snacks, or wine?”

“No! No definitely not,” Adrian assures you, “I have a picture of your favorite wine bottle saved in my phone, I’ll make sure you have some for the episode.”

Heat rises in your cheeks and you find yourself nervously smoothing your skirt from where it's ridden up on the stool again.

“Are you trying to get me drunk next week?” You joke, winking and hoping he picks up on your tone.

“No, I’d never do that. Unless you wanted me to. It's your choice, because you're a strong woman and I’m a feminist.”

You laugh, but not at him. That was… the cutest fucking thing.

“Should we go back to the group?” Adrian asks, but whether it's his actual tone or just your margarita fueled hope, he sounds like he’s asking that question more because it's something he's seen as socially acceptable and not because he wants to.

“Maybe in a bit, I like getting to talk to you alone,” you admit, your hand drifting closer to his on the counter, almost close enough to touch.

“Okay, I might be wrong, and if I am you can just punch me or call me a creep but…”

You lift your margarita up to your lips, eyebrows arched at him and silently urging him to continue.

“Are we flirting?” Confusion is evident on his face, but there's something else there too… enthusiasm? Excitement?

But yes, yes, God fucking dammit yes you want to say the moment youre done with this sip, you want to scream for the entire bar to know you are in fact hitting on Adrian Chase.

But just as your fingertips brush his knuckles, you're interrupted.

“Hey,” Chris slides into the space to stand between yours and Adrian’s barstools, “You seeing anyone?”

You look confused between Chris and Adrian until you start to see Adrian’s brows furrow behind the wire rims of his aviator glasses.

When you realize the question is directed at you, you splutter into your margarita, some of it splashing up into your nose. Holy fuck, that stings.

“Dude, what the fuck…” you hear Adrian mumble, but all you see is red. Chris is playing a dangerous game, with Emilia in the room and you wanting to be able to explode him with your mind right now. You had Adrian right there, you were about to make the move, you were about to do it and then he had to come and ruin it. Cockblocker of the century in all his muscled glory.

“No, I am not seeing anyone,” you confirm not at all trying to hide the venom in your voice, and then add, “Emilia is right over there dude, what kind of fucking game are you playing?”

Emilia and Chris have been sniffing around each other for months now, not unlike… well, not unlike the way you and Adrian have lately. What on earth could his stupid reasoning be for hitting on you in front of her? Of course, he has the audacity of looking shocked at your questions, as if you’re the ridiculous one in this situation.

“You know, I just figured if I bought you a drink and she got jealous she would finally want to… you know…” Chris verbalizes, slowing down when he hears how this plan sounds once it's out of his mouth.

“Oh.”

“Uh huh. You think that’ll work on someone like Harcourt? I mean, where did you even get that plan, a Disney Channel Original Movie?”

Even if Harcourt wasn’t exactly in shape to murder him right now between physical therapy appointments and 'taking it easy', you know she would emotionally eviscerate him. You look over his shoulder to try to get Adrian’s attention, only to see him ordering another Miller Lite and fully ignoring what’s going on between you and Chris. Fuck, shit. You can see your window of opportunity closing in on you.

“Listen, some of those DCOMs are solid movies. Camp Rock? Lemonade Mouth?”

Chris is wildly serious about this.

“I’m literally going to kill you,” you seethe, before downing your drink.

“Oh my god,” Chris exclaims, and then looks between the two of you.

“Oh my god,” he repeats, “Did I interrupt something?”

The people on the stools in front of him paint a story: you about to jump off of your stool to strangle him, and Adrian, equally and uncharacteristically agitated sipping his beer and refusing to make eye contact with either of you.

“Oh, I definitely did. You and him? Really? Are you—“

“Get out of here!” you shout, and he finally gets the hint to head back to his not-girlfriend. He nods and tips the neck of his beer towards you in salute and you slam your glass down onto the counter so hard you could have broken it.

Chris walks awkwardly back, not quite a run but not a walk either— he knows you and Emilia are going to have a chat about this later and he knows he’ll hear all about it. You and Emilia are funny that way, you don’t judge her for being into Chris, and she doesn’t judge that you’ve hooked up with two guys named Adrian even though you’ve sworn to her that you totally don’t like Adrian and there’s nothing there. The two of you only text about it at least twice a week.

Adebayo shoots you a weird look from her place next to Emilia at the L-shaped bar, one that has you confused until you realize she’s looking just past you.

Adrian is seething, curled lip like a bad Elvis impersonation and all. You’ve actually never seen him angry, you realize.

You've seen him annoyed, dejected, worried, that kicked puppy look, but never angry. He’s angry at Chris and there isn't much of a way to interpret this other than he wanted to hear your answer to his question. But would he even want it now?

“Adrian?” you ask, hand reaching again for him but finding the space on the counter it once inhabited empty.

“Adrian?” you repeat a little more sharply, and he finally looks at you, his gaze instantly softening. The anger is still there, but his face shows it's not directed at you.

“If your drink was empty would you have let him buy you one?” his tone is low and even, and you recognize this as a tone he’s only donned when he’s in Vigilante mode.

“No, are you kidding?” you ask, exasperated by all of this interruption in your plan.

“No?” the confusion is evident in his voice.

“No,” you clarify, “I don't want Chris to buy me a drink. Ever. Ew.”

“Is it because of Emilia?” he asks innocently, either choosing not to read your signals or just trying to figure out friend-code.

“No. I mean, yes I wouldn't do that to her. But I wouldn't want Chris no matter what.”

He nods, and seems to understand.

Your answer hangs in the air, though. As if he doesn't know how to parse this territory. You've eased his obvious worries but maybe he needs you to be a bit obvious with making the first move.

Here goes nothing.

You turn your glass up, tilting your head back as you finish it and immediately slam it back on the counter. You look to Adrian expectantly, crossing your legs as your skirt rides up even higher on your thighs. You don't miss the way his eyes dart downward.

“Buy me a drink, Adrian?”

His eyes snap back up to your face.

“You want another one?”

“I want you to buy me a drink,” you assert, “And yes, we were flirting before Chris interrupted.”

There's no way he could misinterpret that. His face contorts in a few different ways, at first in a twinge of anger, then confusion, then realization before settling in an easy smile, wide and he nods at you.

“Cool, I was hoping we were. I’ve been wanting to flirt with you for a while,” he admits trying to sound calm, while wildly waving his hand to get the bartenders attention.

The bartender comes over quickly, knowing your team and how they act, that’s probably in his best interest.

“This lovely lady that I’m flirting with would like a third and final margarita please! And put her other two drinks on my tab too, that’s what actual nice guys do,” he asserts, and watches carefully as the bartender makes your drink, his typical guarding of your drinks not changing even though he doesn’t get up off of his barstool to physically shield you and your drink.

“My other drinks too? Oh my, are you trying to get lucky tonight?” you joke, but god are you flattered. The margaritas here are not super cheap, and your wifi bill is due.

“Yes?” He confirms it, but frames it like a question.

“You sure?” You ask.

“Yes, I’m sure. I want to get lucky,” he confirms, then realizes what he’s said, “With you. I want to get lucky with you.”

“Good, me too,” you agree, taking a sip of your last margarita.

“Hashtag me too,” you hear him mumble, a weird little habit you've noticed he picked up. You lick the salt from the rim again, and this time he audibly groans. You arch your eyebrow and do it again, this time taking your time to flatten your tongue along the rim of the glass to get the margarita salt. He digs his fingers into the material of his jeans covering his thigh, and you watch his knuckles turn white. God, if only that was his hand around your neck and…

“It makes me so hard when you do that, you have to stop doing that. Or at least stop doing that in public,” Adrian admits through gritted teeth, and you take pity on him, grabbing his hand from off of his leg and entwining it in your own.

“Good to know, I’ll only order margaritas when you're about to take me home from now on.”

His hand squeezes yours.

“I don't know if you're joking but every time you order a margarita I want to take you home,” his tone is deadly serious, and his eyes don't even hide the way they rake up and down your body anymore.

“I’ll keep that in mind and use it to my advantage,” you say, taking the initiative to sip your drink a little faster than the others tonight. Not to get drunk, but so that you can get into his Sebring faster and get actually alone with him.

“I love this outfit,” Adrian says, and it's awkward, but honest. Flirting is… not his thing as far as you can tell, but damn if it is not working on you anyway.

“Yeah?” you ask, a coy smile as you finish off what you're going to drink of the margarita.

Adrian leans in close, so close you can smell his deodorant.

“Love how easy it’ll be to take off,” he clarifies, whispering in your ear.

What do you even say to that? You don't know, how he manganese so often to leave you speechless, so you just dip your head down to rest your forehead on his shoulder and hum.

His other hand releases his now empty Miller bottle and pulls you back gently by the shoulder.

“Hey, why are you pouting?”

You hadn't even realized you were.

“Take me home, Adrian.”

You don't have to tell him twice. He slides himself off the barstool before literally lifting you off of yours, being careful not to lift you too high so your skirt wouldn't flash anyone before putting you back down.

“Bye guys!” Adrian shouts, “We’re going to go back home to our own homes! I’m not going to kiss her once were outside!”

You can’t even feel embarrassed at how Adrian announces your departure because once again his hand is in yours and guiding you. You wave bye to everyone with your free hand, heat rising in your cheeks as you try to hide the fact that you want to smile until your face aches.

He barely gets the door open before hes grabbing you close and kissing you, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly.

It's better than you could have ever imagined. In the many times youve thought about kissing Adrian, you've imagined him eager, enthusiastic, sloppy, fast, but never so achingly desperate. He kisses slowly, like how time moves during a car crash, lips moving hard and deliberate against your own to pull more, more, more, from you.

When he retreats, your lips follow his before you come back down to earth.

“Wow,” you gasp, “I've been wanting to do that for a while.”

“Not as long as I have,” he retorts, that seriousness still evident in his tone. Holy shit.

“Let's get the fuck out of here, please.”

He wastes no further time bringing you back to where you parked earlier, opening the door for you before trotting around the car to the driver’s side and basically jamming his key into the ignition.

He gets out of the parking lot and onto the main road before your heart drops. Fuck. Your underwear. Your awkward ugly mismatched set. The bra that's his uniform colors but the basic black panties that match okay but not enough to be sexy.

“Hey, can I be honest with you?” you blurt out before you can really think about what you're saying.

Adrian tenses up, and hits the brakes a little too sudden for the light changing ahead of you.

“Were you not being honest with me before?”

Fuck, shit, fuck wrong wording.

“No! I mean yes, I was being honest before. It's just…” You try to parse the right words, “I had this planned, to make a move on you. I wanted to impress you.”

“Everything you do impresses me,” he interrupts, and you quickly thank him before you continue.

“But I had this whole outfit, and then a very specific underwear set I wanted to wear in case I was, you know, successful,” you sigh, “But the underwear I was going to wear that matched with the bra went missing, so if you want to like, ignore all this you can.”

You gesture to your outfit and your body awkwardly, not used to feeling so unsure of yourself, but Adrian makes you feel like a schoolgirl with a weird crush again.

He's silent for a bit, focusing on the road and making his way to his apartment building as fast as he can while still following all of the traffic laws.

“Was it the black and teal set?” he finally cuts the silence, and your blood runs cold. You knew he had the underwear, but you weren't about to call him out about his tweet further than the comment about them missing.

“Uh, yeah,” you admit quietly, now trying to look anywhere but at the profile of his handsome face.

“Do you want them back? I can like, hand them back to you and you can go change if you want when we get back to my place?” he asks like it's a normal situation you find yourselves in. Not a ‘coworkers that make weird moves on each other on twitter through nude videos and strategic likes' situation.

“Hey, look at me,” he commands gently, noticing your silence.

You turn to him, and there's this blissful little smile on his face; he’s looking at you like you hang the moon and stars.

“You're not as discreet on twitter as you think you are, but I’m really glad you didnt find it gross,” his voice is wavering a little, like he’s nervous to be saying this. Fuck, you knew you werent as fast on that scroll past his video the other morning. You're just glad he’s not disgusted by you, the fact that he knows, that you're both a little perverted and he accepts it. If he can accept it so can you.

“I’m glad you didnt find me gross either,” you admit, a little less bold than you had been.

Adrian scoffs.

“Are you kidding? A hot woman like you liking videos of me? Did you get off to me?” he asks eagerly.

“Maybe…” you admit, a little coy, a little more confident again.

“Maybe?”

“Okay yes,” you admit, finding the courage to reach out and touch his forearm, “I did. More than a little.”

“Good!” his arm slides from where it’s on the wheel to place his hand very carefully on your bare thigh, ‘I definitely got off knowing you were watching.”

You feel hot all over knowing that, the confirmation that the tweets were about you even though you knew they were. That there was no possibility they were about that new hostess at Fennel Fields, and that he was getting off at the thought of you seeing them.

“Can I ask how you knew they were me?” you ask, you hand enveloping his and pushing it up your thigh to flirt with the hem of your skirt.

“That was easy,” he says, not even looking at you as he squeezes your thigh, before dipping his fingertips closer to the inside of your thigh, “Your twitter name was a Fargo reference. You're my Fargo buddy.”

You really should have been more subtle with that, but you don't find yourself giving a shit when his calloused fingers are running themselves up and down your inner thigh and he pulls the car into his apartment’s parking lot.

“Fuck,” you whisper, his pinky just barely brushing under the hem of your skirt.

“I know, you should have been more sneaky,” he agrees, even though that's not what you were reacting to.

“Shut up,” you laugh, “Just get me upstairs, Adrian.”

He throws the car in park and gets out as hastily as possible.

He jogs around to your side of the car and this time you actually open the door yourself.

“You don't actually want me to shut up, right?” he asks as you climb out of the car, legs a little shaky from nerves and arousal.

“Of course not,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I dont want you to hold back in any way.”

#adrian chase x reader

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aeor-is-for-reccing · 7 months

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5+1: A Shadowgast Rec List

This week, we've got ten (five times two, if you will) recs that follow the 5+1 format, and one that's been recced twice! Check under the cut for some sweet fics, some funny, and some that are pretty damn sexy.

A Family Affair, or The Arrival of Verin Thelyss and All That It Entails by Dragonslaeyr (21471, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Five times Caleb encountered Verin Thelyss, and one time he did not. Caleb meets Verin, without knowing who exactly he is, and makes some incorrect assumptions.

Reccer says: It's got peak sibling behavior and a wonderful version of the misunderstanding trope!

Bei Mir Bist Du Schön by Defiler_Wyrm (1956, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Copied from AO3: Caleb has a habit of slipping back into Zemnian when his guard is down. Or: Five times Essek didn’t understand, and one time he absolutely did, the little shit.

Reccer says: I liked it!

where I go, will you still follow? by allmadeofstardust (4330, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

5 times Essek didn't kiss Caleb, and 1 time when Caleb realized it didn't even matter.

Reccer says: It's incredibly sweet, with some lovely pining

I Lean In and Kiss Him [Right Here] by Chanse (SpottedEnchants) (11000, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Five times Caleb kisses Essek and one time Essek kisses him back.

Reccer says: I love touch-averse Essek and how Chanse writes their relationship!

Dynamic tension by glittergarbage (7051, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

In which Caleb finds himself being appreciated for something he isn't, usually. OR: Five times Essek is horny on main and one time Caleb is too

Reccer says: The tension between them is amazing, but I love the way that Caleb has to interrogate his own masculinity - that he sees himself as rather scrawny and unremarkable, but Essek sees him as large and muscular - and the sexual dynamic where the cis male is the smaller one wearing lingerie and the trans guy is allowed to top is delicious.

Kryn Dynasty Skincare 101 by soot_and_salt (3571, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Here are 5 times Essek buys some Xhorhasian skincare and one time he doesn't have to.

Reccer says: It's cute and funny, and Essek's high maintenance skin care compared to the Nein's adventuring-friendly routines is a great source of comedy.

Altered State of Mind by Defiler_Wyrm (6835, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Five times Caleb used polymorph to escape his problems, and one time he used it to solve them

Reccer says: I love the explorations of different times he would use it in emotional situations, and the ending has me laughing every time

I do, five times over, I do by TormentaPrudii (12896, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Five times Caleb and Essek get married to other people and the one time they get married to each other, kinda.

Reccer says: It's got great pinings and misunderstandings - a gorgeous fic with gorgeous art!

(we share this) space and time by SaltCore (4155, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Five times Essek takes a long moment and a bit of dunamancy to appreciate Caleb, and one time he gets caught.

Reccer says: I liked it!

And then two recs for this last one!

we never do go over (we always gotta go through) by Chrome (17169, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Set after the last fight with the Tombtakers, five times Essek woke up with level(s) of exhaustion and one time he didn't.

Reccer 1 says: I love how Essek is getting cared for by the M9 and the soft beginning of his and Caleb’s relationship, while getting out of Aeor. Reccer 2 says: There's so much care in the interactions

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back with fics featuring them cohabitating/moving in together!

#shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #cr fic recs #critical role #fan fiction rec list #critical role fan fiction #cr fic

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sunsents · 1 year

Text

Jake Sully - Trust Your People

Here, have another one 🙄 Comforting Jake Sully in his sexy toruk makto uniform typa one shot because LAWD, im obsessed. Heavily inspired by this edit , please watch it before reading it to amp up the experience.🤭 also this is unedited but aren't we all

Read part 2 here

Summary —> Jake is apprehensive about the upcoming war, and you, firmly against his dreamwalker origins, are there to comfort him.

Pairing: jakesully x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Words: 2027

Warnings: mentions of war/insecurities/Jake is too hot

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

vocabulary: Kelutral - Hometree

Vitraya Ramonung - Tree of Souls

Tawtute - demon

Kuru - queue

Atokirina - woodsprite

Muntxa - mate

Narlor - beautiful to the eyes

Kelku - home

———II——— Blue for stealth, red for strength, and green for luck and hope.

The intricate patterns painted on your skin seeped into you, joined your bloodstream and gave you the courage to fight. But the thrumming of your heart was too loud to say otherwise.

After the wreckage of Kelutral - your heart still squeezed at the memory - Jakesully had reemed himself in the eyes of Eywa. Though, this did not mean he redeemed himself in yours.

So, imagine your surprise when you saw him kneeled before Vitraya Ramunong, speaking to her. You had only wanted to calm your racing heart and gain courage from Eywa's children and your ancestors, alone. You did not expect a tawtute waiting for you in your safe-haven - though, you suppose he was one of the people now.

Still, you were wary around him. He was the cause of this, after-all. If only he didn't know your ways, if only he didn't lead the Skypeople to hometree, if only-

You pause, take a deep breath, and count to five. If Eywa deems him trustworthy, so will you.

Said man's head is hung low, his kuru connected, muttering something you can't make out. He still hasn't noticed your presence, or maybe he did but does not want you to approach him. But alas, you do.

The crinkling of your steps alert him, and his head snaps back to your form. You stand straighter, holding your chin high. Shifting awkwardly against your heel, you clear your throat.

Jake merely watches you with wide eyes, the strange hair above them rising high. You had seen that expression before, but could never decipher what those feathery...things mean. They furrow when he can't get his arrow to land on the target straight, waver when you talk back to him and he smirks with that stupid, soft lips of his - and the worst of it all, they rise slightly when he looks at you - which is an obscene view, especially when his eyes look hazed and soft, contrasting to the eye-brow.

Eywa is bent down, washing her hair in the pond that circle you, her soft wisps greet the water and sway against the wind. The vines that surround you making you feel content and safe enough to let down your guard against Jake, you tentatively offer a touch of reassurance on his firm shoulder.

"Erm," you start, unsure but hopeful. "You know Eywa cannot respond to you."

Jake gives your an incredulous look, and your stomach drops. Trust yourself to say the most unbecoming words in times of need. "That was, not what I meant to say." You give him a wince - you hope it looks like a smile.

Jake hums, "Hey, you touching me means somethin', right?" he chuckles, laugh reverbating around Eywa's tendrils, "At least you don't avoid me like the plague anymore."

Your ears twitch at the unfamiliar word, "What I meant to say was, Jakesooly, Eywa does not take sides."

"I know that," mutters Jake, "but surely, she also wants the Skypeople gone."

You nod, and Jake slowly stands up. His beaded hair - courtesy of your youngest niece, Aëteyna - clink around each other. He looks breathtaking, and the sight does just that. You stop breathing almost entirely as his side-profile levels with your face. The eye-brow is furrowed again, and his eyes are closed, face angled down. His strong jaw ticks when your eyes trail the sharp line of it that connects to his neck. His neck, oh Eywa, he wears the beaded choker he made himself in celebration of Toruk.

Bioluminescent light breathes on his white freckles, reminding one of blowing on Atokirina and watching it take color and flight. Jake's just so beautiful, his white freckles starting from his smooth forehead, down his romanesque nose, and around his sultry, curved lips that beg to be kissed. And down continues the freckles, on his strong pecks and robust arms that bulge with muscle, and down...

His stomach and hips are corded well with muscle with smooth, soft skin stretching enticingly - you're writhing in your place as Jake gazes down. Touching his warm skin, squeezing his strong arms, and his dominant, engulfing heat all work together to make stars dance around your eyelids.

He holds himself like a strong, attractive warrior. He is a warrior, the best one in Omaticaya - after yourself of course. Though, now that he was Toruk Makto, you weren't sure who outdid who.

You crave for him to be your warrior. The intense need to have such a strong, dominating mutxa take care of you, and you to reciprocate back - it almost makes you pass out.

How could this be? How could a dreamwalker look sculpted by Eywa herself to specifically ruin you and your insides?

But you can't. You're on the brink of war, and he needs comfort. You need comfort.

That's the only excuse you can think of. It's easier to be cold to him, disregard his efforts and his beauty rather than expect something you can never have. You can never bring yourself to accept your attraction towards the dream walker, not only does it hurt your pride, it's against your nature. Thus, you opt to hating him.

Though, you're sure Jake has no issue reciprocating it back. Although he never outwardly verbalized his animosity towards you, you have eyes. They see how you get under his skin, scorch him from the inside out and leave him with nothing but irritation. His jaw ticks, hands twitch, and his face flushes. It's quite funny sometimes, especially when you take your quips a little too far.

But now, you can't bring yourself to be callous. Not when he's looking at you with such anguish and worry.

"I-" He starts, suddenly placing his gaze on you. Your heart squeezes at his pained expression. He looks afraid, and it hits you. That's why he's here. To ask for guidance and reassurance. Eywa could guide, but not reassure. Which is why she led you here. You were tasked to put the young warriors heart at ease.

"I'm afraid, ____." his heart is open to you fully. To admit one was afraid was incredibly private, not to mention intimate. Admitting it meant that he seeked comfort in you, and your heart swells with pride.

You puff out your chest, then put a soft hand on his cheek. "That's okay, Jakesooly. Everyone is, including the Skypeople."

JakeSully sighs, nodding and you continue.

"But we have to fight for our home," you put a hand on your heart, then move the one on his cheek onto his heart. "We are Omaticaya, and we will fight for what is ours. We all have each other Jakesooly, you are not alone...winning is not your burden to bear. Trust yourself, and your people."

Jake's tail swishes from side to side, and he closes his hand over your heart. "This is the first time we aren't arguing, and you probably said what I've been wanting to hear the moment I arrived on Pandora."

You laugh, "Sure sure, flattery won't get you compliments JakeSooly."

Jake smiles, then his face morphs into an expression much serious than what you're comfortable with. The way he looks at you is too intense that you immediately remove your hand from his heart. Jake catches it mid-air, placing it back.

"It's not flattery, ____. I'm serious, thank you.", his deep voice rumbles from his chest, and you shiver. Jake looks back at Vitraya Ramonung.

"Thank you Eywa," he says, then looks at you.

And Eywa hears. Two, sizely wisps of Atokirina float between the two of you. Your breathing stops, turning ragged and deep. What does this mean? Surely, Eywa was reassuring you both that the war was going to play out in your favor. The Atokirina's only purpose was to put your minds at ease and strengthen your hearts.

You feel to need to verbalize this, in case Jake gets the wrong idea.

The wrong idea? What was the wrong idea, you think. That you were to be bethroted-

No.

Neytiri had confessed to Jake the night of his Iknimaya, and was gently let down. Jake had told her it was too soon, and of course, dangerous. But he didn't completely deny her feelings. You were not close with tsakarem, but it was common knowledge around the clan that she wanted to claim Jake.

Jake clears his throat, stopping your train of thought. You suddenly remember the situation you're in. Where was Neytiri to comfort him, and guide his heart towards tranquility?

"These guys seem to like me alot." chuckles Jake. He's looking at you now, and you roll your eyes.

"Well," you cup your hands around the sprite, inspecting it. "You are Toruk Makto. Besides, I think the great mother is trying to tell us to be at ease."

"Yeah," he sighs, deep and slow. "I just..." trailing off, his arms suddenly fall limp. You tilt your head in worry at the man before you who looks utterly hopeless.

"Hm?" you make no further noises to inquire so he can regain his strength, and share his worry. You're afraid to push him, though you can't help but feel curious.

Jake shakes his head, "It's stupid."

"It probably isn't." You raise your chin and let the Atokirina float away.

"Okay," he starts, "I feel lost, I guess."

"How come?" you ask, genuinely curious. Feeling lost is such an unfamiliar concept to you. You had grown up belonging to a community, known exactly where you stand, and your purpose; to protect.

"I don't know what I'm doing half the time. The people expect me to be brave and have a well thought out plan," he suddenly jumps forward, "Which I do!"

You smile, nodding at his words.

"But, everything I've achieved has been pure luck. What if I'm not so...lucky this time."

It's your turn to frown now, luck? "Jake," you say softly, grabbing his arm again and kneeling him down on the lush carpet of flowerage and vessels. He follows your movement almost too quickly, bending his knees before you and looking deeply into your eyes with expectation. You can see yourself in his irises, all dressed up in war attire and fierce. - you're practically shining with the way his eyes are wide and hazy.

"Luck is not when you tame Toruk, and luck is not when you complete Iknimaya. Luck is never with Eywa, she plans all, and balances all. I understand your worry, but know this." you're firm with your tone now, hoping it gets through his thick, beautiful skull. "What happens is already planned out, and we cannot change it. We can only do our best. So stop worrying your narlor head, and trust."

Jake chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. "Why you gotta always use words I don't understand?"

"Well, you should have listened to Neytiri better, hm?" you mirror his playful smile, flicking his cheek - a movement you learned from him. Though, it was hard for you as you had four fingers, less strength in your flick.

"Yeah yeah," he catches your wrist just as you retract it - it seemed like Toruk Makto was quite set on touching you today. "Careful what you say. I'm Toruk Makto now, remember?"

You pretend to think for a moment, "Really? You have to refresh my memory. I do not currently remember anything about Toruk or Makto." taunting him in your broken English, you chuckle at your joke.

Jake watches you with a stupid smile, all toothy and wide. His glistening eyes survey your face, making your heart sputter and warn you in panic. She tells you to stop joking around with him, pull your hand from his grasp, and take on your cold, arrogant attitude once more. But she also tells you to let yourself fall into his strong arms, let him surround you with his manly, musky scent, and nuzzle his face into your hair as he whispers sweet nothings to you.

You blush, cursing her. You didn't have a strong heart at all. She was bipolar and mean, and you were going to have a firm talk with her once in your kelku.

Now though, you can only stupidly stare back. You were on the brink of war, what were you even doing? Suddenly regaining your senses, you quickly stand up, pulling your hand from his firm hold. Then, you give him a curt nod, one that halts the intimate moment with professionalism and rebuilds your walls of self stability.

"Well then Jakesooly, we shall head back to the clan. A great day awaits us."

——II——

Lmk if you want a part 2 of this, and I'll cook sm up 🤭

#jake sully x reader #jake sully #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar james cameron #avatar quaritch #jake sully drabble #jake sully oneshot #jake sully x you #jake sully fanfiction #fluff #avatar fluff #neytiri sully #neytiri

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papa-evershed · 8 months

Note

If you're up for it, your top 3/top 5 hottest (RJC) characters (and why)? Based SOLELY on looks. Feel free to include gifs, if you have the time. Gotta say, Daniel became my #2 and is competing with Saul Silva for No.1 spot. I mean...Goddamn..🤤🍽️ Is Rob aging like a fine wine or do i just have daddy issues?

I think he's aging beautifully. Aging well doesn't only have to mean a lack of aging, but simply getting better as you do it, imo. When all the features of aging—wrinkles, greys, eye-bags, skin spots, etc, actually make a person look like a more beautifully seasoned version of their younger selves? That's aging well too.

As for Daddy issues, IDK, only you can decide for yourself if it's daddy related. 🤓 I ain't here to judge either way. Don't we all want a dad in the streets but a daddy in the sheets? 🤡

I'll put my top five under a cut! Not only just for the length but general cringe and possible thirst talk. So if that isn't someone's thing they can only blame themselves for continuing to read.

#1. Top honor is undoubtedly Daniel fucking Watson. Because speaking of aging beautifully, it's his most recent role so it was pretty much guaranteed to become my new favorite in terms of looks for that reason alone. I'm never going to be that person who is most thirsty for a role that happened fifteen years ago simply because I like men with some age on them. I want a whole ass man. I want the salt and pepper hair, I want the almost-white facial fuzz, I want the eye crinkles that cut deep towards his cheeks. That shit is sexy as fuck. If I wanted someone that looked like Timothy Chamomile I'd be out here giffing Willy Wonka.

And Daniel Watson is serving. The neck fuzz alone tickles the cave woman portion of my brain and makes me feral.

He just walks and moves and carries himself like A Man™ but not the sort that has so much swagger that it seems like they're over compensating. Important difference. A bit tired, a bit weary, just all the things I relate to a good, tired, dad. It feels natural and that's what makes it sexy. (Also the belly.)

And this show is finally giving us proper close-ups and beautiful profile shots. Like you said, based on looks alone, 1000/10. There's nothing to complain about. And another reason it's my new favorite—freckles! They aren't covering the freckles. I just like people's faces to look natural, is that so much to ask for?

The next four are probably interchangeable, it really just depends on my mood as far as who ranks above who. So don't put too much weight into the order, just know they'd round out my top five.

#2. Saul Silva. Specifically, season one Saul Silva though, because yes I'm still bitter about the hair dye. I realize it was likely bc of DA filming but I give not a single shit, I'll stay bitter about it until I die. Saul ranks this high for the same reasons as Daniel Watson really. A bit of grey, a bit of scruff, just looks natural and delicious.

^ That look is pure 🔥🔥 and anyone who attempts to claim otherwise (not that anyone ever has) is a lying liar that tells lies. Also, wardrobe is superior in Fate compared to a lot of his other roles. We got a good mixture of casual wear in addition to his little uniform.

(And also the belly.)

3. Hutch. That's it, that's all I have to say. Just Hutch.

It's a shame that he died but I get it. If I were some big monster I'd eat his ass first too. Literally and figuratively. 🫡

4. Martin Evershed! Can't leave off my boy Mr. Evershed. Again, for a lot of the same reasons as mentioned above. I prefer him recent. I prefer him with greys. I prefer him looking soft and delicious. What Ackley lacked in wardrobe it made up for in just indulging my Dad™ kink.

(And also the belly.)

#5. This fucker from Vera, Richard.

This role isn't talked about much, likely because it was small, but damn if he didn't look great. The scruff, the nose, the plain black tee? Fucking perfect.

(And of course, also the wee bit of belly. 🤠)

TLDR - I think he looks better the older he gets so my favorite roles tend to fall in line with that and I'm a cave troll that wants men to look as natural as I can get 'em.

#anyone who reads all of that deserves at least one dollar

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divine-knight-hand · 8 months

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Safely Endangered

Prequel: True Liberation

Series Masterlist || Loki Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3

Summary: Five years before the events of Chapter 1, Y/N indulges in her weekly escape from the confines of life, but a few new faces in a dangerous situation serve to change everything she’s ever known.

Notes: I put a heck of a lot of time into this, for a work that has no sexy times in it. Hehehe! Also, it's very much giving a bit of old Wattpad vibes in my opinion, but I still like how it came out! I hope you do, too!!!

This piece features some German, which is yet another language I don't speak, so feel free to correct any mistakes I may have made.

Content Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence and death, discussions of death at length, shootout scenario, cussing that would make a sailor blush, and brief religious imagery (again, just a sentence, but I wanted to give a warning, anyways)

Word Count: 4,776

Dividers by @cafekitsune

I hated my life. I had a boring job in a boring town, contributing absolutely nothing to a boring society. I had no ambitions, no goals, and nothing to look forward to. I just dragged myself through each day like a mindless drone. Then, I just went to the home that I still shared with my parents, laid my head down on my rock-hard pillow, and fought for sleep on my lumpy mattress every night just to do the whole thing all over again the next day.

In short, life sucked.

However, there was one night a week where I finally got a break from all the excruciating monotony. Friday nights, I went to a small nightclub in my town to drink and dance the week’s hardships away. At first, I thought it was foolish to get excited over some nightclub, but I realized that just the mere thought of doing something exciting and fun pulled me through the week. It kept me sane.

So, I made it an event. I dressed to the nines in the tightest dress I could find, found myself the pair of high heels most likely to break my ankles, and bought the shiniest jewelry I could afford.

It was a long process to get dressed each week, but Friday nights filled me with the motivation to do it, because I knew that at The Lively Vixen, I could taste what it meant to feel alive.

────༺ ♰ ༻────

The bass emanating from the DJ’s booth seemed to rattle the very foundation of the building. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, allowing its vibrations to move through my body and fill me with life. I’m here! I made it here another week.

I opened my eyes and made my way into the neon scenery. Bodies collided on the dance floor in a large vulgar mosh pit under the strobe of vibrant lighting, and the smell of alcohol tainted the air, tempting some dancers to step away from the party for a quick drink.

I headed straight to the bar, leaning against the table as I locked eyes with one of the bartenders. She was a petite blonde about my age with bright green doe eyes and a round face that sported a light dusting of freckles over the pale skin of her cheeks and nose. She was gorgeous. Unfortunately for her, that kind of beauty never came without consequence in her field of work.

“Don’t worry about me.” She’d said on one of my first visits to The Lively Vixen. “The creepiest men give the best tips.” Then, she winked and swayed her hips as she crossed the bar to take an order from a man who’d been staring at her the whole time.

As she neared where I was standing, I cocked my head with a playful smirk. “Hey, Jill! How’ve you been?”

“Absolutely terrible.” She remarked with a smile that convinced me otherwise, “You know the party doesn’t start ‘til you get here.”

“Well, consider the party here.” I opened my arms in a dramatic gesture as Jill clapped her hands.

“You never fail to be the highlight of my work week.” She giggled. If only she knew that she was part of mine, too. “Should I put you down for your usual?”

I place a hand over my heart in another dramatic gesture. “You know me so well. I would love that.”

“Alright! I’ll have your drink to you in just a moment.” Jill trotted to the back of the bar to prep it as the DJ switched songs across the room.

I perched myself on the stool right next to me and turned to survey the crowd as the mass of bodies jumped and clashed to Rihanna’s Please Don’t Stop the Music.

A dark shadow grabbed my attention as it flashed in the corner of my eye. I turned to look as four unfamiliar figures walked in the door.

A woman with soft features and hair that cascaded over her shoulders in honey brown waves had an arm locked in that of a tall muscular blond man with hair that stopped just past his shoulders and a beard that matched in hue.

Next came a slender woman about as tall as the blond, with raven hair that fell just above her mid-back. Her angular face wore an expression as dark as her eye makeup. I shuddered at the sight of her, a chill crawling up my spine.

The last person to walk in was a man about the same height, but he looked like he could be the raven-haired woman’s male counterpart. His own dark locks fell in a similar fashion to the blond’s, but they were slicked back in a more clean style and pulled away from his solemn expression. There was something intimidating about him… but alluring, as well.

Despite being in a nightclub, the group seemed to be dressed for a business negotiation. I assumed they must have been rich, but wondered what they could possibly be doing in a small town like mine. Every week I went to The Lively Vixen, I could recognize almost every face on the dance floor. I knew for a fact I never saw this group before. Why would they want to come here of all places?

As the four entered the club, walking in the direction of the VIP booths on the other side, the raven haired-man was the only one to glance in my direction as they passed me. Time itself seemed to slow down as we locked eyes.

I wanna take you away Let's escape into the music

Long after he looked away, I watched the group cross the club. I had to force my eyes away from them as one of the bouncers lifted a velvet rope and let them into one of the booths.

The sound of Jill shouting my name over the music made me jump. “Your drink.” She motioned to the glass she’d just set on the counter in front of me.

“Thank you!” I grabbed the glass and began to sip on it as Jill glanced at the VIP booths.

“Great,” She remarked, “another bunch of rich weirdos.”

“They’re not the only ones?” I asked as I risked another glance at the booth.

“Nope!” Jill patted the countertop. Any sound her hand made against the wood was muted by the blaring music. “Four guys walked in with these boujee hoes practically kissing the ground they walked on just before you got here. Those women are just trying to get that bank, if you ask me. They’ll probably suck their guys off for a few grand later.”

“Jill!” I snorted at her bluntness.

“What? It’s gotta be true!” She waved her hand in a playfully dismissive gesture. “But, if I were them, I’d totally do the same. The whole bartender gig doesn’t pay much on bad tip days.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’d skip the part that involves coming out to a club in the middle of nowhere.” I added as I took a sip of my drink.

“I’m with you.” Jill agreed. “Now, you go enjoy your night. Don’t let me keep you stuck here. Just come back once you get thirsty, okay?”

“Of course! And I’ll ask for you specifically.” I slid off of my stool and smiled, lifting my drink off the counter. “Take care!”

“I’m trying.” Jill playfully waved and left to go take more orders.

Normally, I’d head straight to the dance floor and shamelessly flirt with a new man or woman of my choosing before dirty dancing with them and letting them buy me a new drink, but tonight was different.

I couldn’t get the image of the four people in that VIP section out of my head. Specifically, I couldn’t stop thinking of that raven-haired man. I was frozen, just a few paces from the bar. Why are they here? What do all these rich people want?

I tried to refocus on the loud thrumming music and let it drown out my thoughts as I willed my feet to shuffle towards the dance floor.

Baby, are you ready 'cause it's gettin' cold Don't you feel the passion ready to explode?

Bang! Bang! Bang! I jumped as the jarring sound drowned out Rihanna’s voice. I hadn’t even made it to the edge of the dance floor when it sounded.

The mass of bodies in front of me froze as screams rang out across the room. My blood ran cold. This can’t be happening…

Bang! Bangbangbang! Bangbang! When the gunfire increased in frequency, the dance floor suddenly became a mob as everyone made a mad dash to the door.

I turned to run with them, but tripped over my own high heel and fell to my knees. My drink crashed onto the floor, the glass shattering.

The mob was coming too fast, and there was already a crowd forming at the door, so I crawled behind the bar as quickly as possible to avoid getting trampled and hide from whoever was firing their guns.

“Shitshitshitshitshit!” I hissed as I moved across the floor.

Once I got behind the bar, I quickly abandoned my heels in preparation for a quick escape. I peeked my head out to check the door, but a bullet narrowly missing my face startled me into reeling backwards and colliding with a body that was hunched behind the bar with me.

I gasped as I turned around to see the raven-haired man who seemed equally shocked. “What the hell are you still doing here?” He hissed.

“Trying not to get killed.” I scowled. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He raised his eyebrows at my response. “I would imagine my own reasoning was obvious. Unless you were watching me merely for my good looks.”

I instantly felt my cheeks burn as I muttered. “Well, you don’t have to be a douche about it.”

We jumped as the bullets grew closer to where we were crouched. The man quickly took to his feet and fired his own gun at the origin of the sounds before crouching back down to avoid another spray of bullets.

My eyes widened at the sight of his weapon. “You’re a part of this?”

“No, I’m merely a participating onlooker.” His voice oozed with a sarcasm that almost made me want to slap him across his gorgeous face.

Would it hurt if I slapped someone with sharp cheekbones? I shook the thought out of my head. Get it together! You’re in a life or death situation right now!

“We can’t stay here.” Before I could process what he was saying to me, he grabbed my arm and hoisted me to my feet before dragging me into the kitchen door by the bar. “Trust me if you value your life.”

“I don’t seem to have much of a choice in the matter-” I stumbled, making my attempt at sarcasm more pathetic than anything else.

The man’s grip on my arm tightened to the point where I was sure my skin would bruise. “Do find your footing, would you?”

I glared daggers at him before he dragged me around the kitchen island, dodging the bartenders who were ducking for cover. I scanned the room for Jill, but I couldn’t find her. Oh, god! I hope she’s okay…

Just then, a man wearing a black suit with red accents ran in with a pistol aimed in our direction. The raven-haired man simply pulled me behind him and fired his own gun. I looked over his shoulder just in time to see the man fall dead with a bullet wound in his head. A wave of nausea crashed into me as blood slowly oozed out of the wound, forming a puddle underneath his body.

The bartenders on the floor let out a unanimous blood-curdling scream at the sight of the carnage as the raven-haired man dragged me out of the kitchen and back into the club. Despite the DJ being gone, and the entire club being empty, the whole venue was still thrumming with loud music.

“Can you tell me what the hell is going on?!” I shouted at the raven-haired man before he shot and killed another man in a red and black suit.

He just raised his free hand to his ear and muttered something barely intelligible under the music. “H…any…ft?” After a heartbeat of silence he growled “Damnit!” before dragging me to crouch behind the DJ booth, bullets whizzing by us all the way.

“If you’re not gonna tell me what’s going on, can you at least tell me who you are?” I shouted over the music.

He cocked his gun, having just reloaded it, and winked. “I’m your savior, of course.”

I scowled. “Right… AH-”

I was dragged onto my feet by a large hand that gripped my hair. All I saw was a long black coat with a little flash of fur as a new mysterious figure held me in a chokehold. The raven-haired man took to his feet and aimed his gun at the both of us, clearly struggling to get a clear shot at the man behind me. The DJ booth finally stopped playing music–possibly due to reaching the end of its predetermined playlist–so I could hear their voices clearly.

“Let my men go or I kill her.” The figure’s voice sounded right by my ear with small traces of a German accent before I felt something cold and metal placed against my temple. I recognized it as the barrel of a gun before I even heard him cock it. My blood ran cold. Is this how I’m going to die?

The raven-haired man furrowed his brow as his gun was still trained on us. “Leave her out of this, Zemo. She’s merely a civilian. She doesn’t associate with us.”

“But you Sons of Odin love keeping people who aren’t in our business safe, don’t you?” Zemo seemed to tighten his grip on me. It was a wonder I could still breathe, but it did take some effort.

“Some of us care not for that little code.” The raven-haired man scowled.

What the fuck?! I wanted to scream. Are you trying to save me or not?

I reached my hands up to try to pry his arm from my neck, but it was futile. I had no experience in fighting like this. I felt that Zemo was inherently stronger than me.

“Let… me… go… asshole…” I gasped, desperate for a way out.

“Oooh, this one’s a bit… how do Americans say… spunky.” Zemo chuckled, amused by my struggle.

“Fuck you!” I spat before bringing my foot up behind me as sharply as possible.

“Umph!” Zemo doubled over as the back of my foot connected with his crotch.

I grabbed the hand that held his gun and pulled it to my mouth to bite it. Zemo was wearing gloves, so I had to bite down considerably hard before he felt the pain and dropped the weapon. I wrenched myself free from his grip before lunging at the gun on the floor. I quickly spun back around, aiming it at Zemo with shaking hands.

“Easy, prinzessin.” Zemo looked up at me with shock, his brown hair a little messy on top of his head. His voice, however, was still smooth and condescending, almost as if he was convincing me to sleep with him rather than convincing me not to shoot him. “It wasn’t personal. My fight is with the man behind you.”

“Shut up!” My voice wavered as my finger curled around the trigger. I couldn’t imagine actually killing Zemo. I didn’t even know who he was. Besides, It wasn’t like I’d taken a life before. I imagined I would break down shortly after firing at him, before spending the rest of my life in therapy. He did just threaten to kill me, though. Maybe it would have been well deserved.

“Stop.” The raven-haired man wrapped one arm around my shoulders, moving my aim down to the floor with the other. “Killing this man would not be a very good idea. Let me handle this.”

“Yes, prinzessin.” Zemo looked back at me smugly. “Leave this to the men, eh?”

My blood boiled. What the fuck did he just say to me? I couldn’t believe the audacity of this man. First, he tried to kill me, then he has the balls to make that sexist remark after literally being held at gunpoint? Oh, no. I was not going to let that fly.

Bam! Before thinking my actions through, I sent a bullet straight into his shin.

“AH!” Zemo fell over, clutching the bullet wound. “Sohn einer Hündin! Ah- Verdammt! Oh, Sheisse!” His face scrunched with pain as his brow began to mist with sweat.

Once I was frozen with the realization that I’d just shot someone, the raven-haired man quickly snatched Zemo’s gun from my hands, clearly amused by his suffering.

“I believe we should get going.” He grabbed my arm again and guided me towards the back exit.

“I won’t forget this, Odinson!” Zemo spat as we left.

Once we stepped outside, the chill of the night air made me shiver. There were no more neon lights. Just the stars sprinkled around the full moon in the night sky.

The raven-haired man noticed I was cold and removed his suit jacket, revealing the tight dress shirt underneath that left nothing of his upper body to the imagination. He threw it over my shoulders. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” I breathed.

Suddenly, the darkness was filled with flashing blue and red lights as sirens broke the silence. He grabbed my arm and led me into the closest tree line. “We can’t stay here. Let’s go now.” He hissed.

────༺ ♰ ༻────

Finally safe from the heat of the cops, we walked along the sidewalk, the raven-haired man insisting on taking me home. The shock of me firing a gun for the first time eased, but hadn’t faded.

“Do you think he’ll recover from that?” I shuddered.

“Zemo? Yes, he’ll be fine.” The man waved his hand dismissively. “Unfortunately.”

I watched as my dirtied bare feet traversed the cold sidewalk. “I have so many questions.”

The man stopped beside me and softly coaxed my head up to face him. “Well, I do have some time before I must return to my associates. So, ask away. I’ll answer whatever I can for you.”

I took a deep breath and started. “Who are you?”

“Well, I am-” He started before I cut him off.

“And don’t say you’re my ‘savior’.” I glared at him. “What is your name?”

He chuckled, thoughtfully rubbing his chin before responding. “I’m Loki. Loki Odinson.”

“Loki…” I softly tested his name on my tongue. It was a beautiful name, unlike anything I’d heard before. “Okay… Loki… What just happened?”

“That, my dear, is a long story.” He started, extending his arm to me. “Allow me to explain.” I took his arm in mine and we began walking along the sidewalk again. “My father, Odin, rules over one of the grandest mafia schemes in your realm.”

“My… realm?” I was nothing short of confused.

“Midgard.” He explained, “The realm of the human race.”

“You speak as if you’re not human.” I snorted.

“That would be because I’m not.” He stated as if he was speaking of the weather and not confirming the existence of otherworldly beings.

Normally, I’d have thought this guy was a loon, but that night was so eventful, I was too tired to be skeptical. “So, what are you?”

“I am a god.” Where I once was too tired to be skeptical, I had the energy to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re a god?” I wiped tears from my eyes. “Really?”

“Yes, I am.” With a wave of his free hand, he conjured a small firework show and held it out to me. “I am the god of mischief, and I specialize in illusions.”

My jaw went slack and my feet stopped working. “W- wow… That’s incredible.”

Loki closed his hand and gave my arm a light tug. “Do keep walking. I’d prefer to get you home sooner rather than later.”

We kept walking and I kept the questions flowing. “If you know magic, then why didn’t you just kill all those guys with your powers?”

“That would have been simpler, wouldn’t it?” He smirked. “Unfortunately, mankind has yet to accept the existence of beings of my caliber. Me using my powers… well, it would have caused a scene, to say the least. We can’t work if we’re attracting too much attention.”

“Understood.” My brain was creating questions faster than I could ask them. “So, you’re a god and you’re in the mafia… Those people you came into the club with, are they also part of the mafia?”

“Yes. Those are my sister, brother, and brother’s lover, to be exact.” I shuddered when I remembered the stoic raven-haired woman. That was his sister.

“And where does that leave Zemo?”

“He’s part of our rival organization, HYDRA.”

“HYDRA…” I saw my house slowly coming into view. “So, the shootout started because you two are enemies? Did they step onto your territory, or steal from you? …Or something like that?”

“Now, you’re overthinking it.” Loki softly chuckled. “Our conflict tonight began simply because they fired first.” I remembered how quickly everyone on the dance floor froze after the initial blast. Why would the members of HYDRA just start shooting like that?

“Mmhmm…” I took a moment to think over everything that he was telling me. “One more question: Why are you telling me all of this? Aren’t mafia systems usually secret?” We made it to the front steps of my house and sat beside each other on the bottom step.

“Well, first of all, that was two questions.” I sent an annoyed glance at him before he continued. “Second, I tell you this because I have a proposal for you.”

I gulped. “Is it one where I get to stay alive?”

Loki laughed aloud in a warm sound. “Of course! I didn’t save you to kill you. Counterproductivity is not in my nature. No, rather, I’m impressed by you.”

“You’re impressed by me?” I raised my eyebrows. “Trust me, I’m not that impressive.”

“Or so you were led to believe.” I raised my eyebrows at him, prompting him to continue. “The workings of your realm can be oh so tiresome, wearing down its strongest warriors into mindless sheep who are fooled by a false sense of independence. But, tonight… Tonight, I caught a glimpse of the real you, unburdened by this society. You fought a man who wronged you, and you nearly killed him. That was impressive.”

I cringed. “I think that’s also technically illegal.”

“Forget the legalities!” Loki rested a hand on my shoulder. “You have potential. Besides, what’s left for you here?” I thought about that. What was left for me here? I had a boring job in a boring town. I had no ambitions, no goals, and nothing to look forward to. I just dragged myself through each day like a mindless drone. Like a mindless sheep. I was in an endless cycle of uselessness.

When I didn’t answer immediately, Loki continued, “I’ll tell you what waits for you if you come with me.” He stood from the step and turned to face me. “You can have an escape from the illusion of choice, in favor of a life of true liberation. Know what independence truly looks like. Live a life where you’re not crushed under the fists of those who decide your worth.”

The sun began to rise behind him, the sky creating a hazy outline around his tall figure. I felt like a disciple who looked up to her god with admiration and awe. I wondered for a moment whether he’d bless me or cast his judgment on me. All I knew was that I trusted him with my life once, and now I felt I could do it again, and again, and again for as long as we both lived. I would do whatever he wanted me to. I trusted him fully and completely.

“Loki…” I began as a black limo pulled up on the street behind him. “What are you asking of me?”

The back window of the limo wound down to reveal the blond man from earlier. “Brother!” He shouted. “Make haste! Father waits for us.”

Loki didn’t even pay attention to the shouting blond. He just reached his hand out for me. “Join me. Shed the weight of your mundane life and join me. Feel the relief of true liberation. Join me and the Sons of Odin. Let me take you away.”

A heavy silence fell between us. My answer here would be my defining moment. Was I willing to cast everything I ever knew aside and start over with this man I just met? Then again, what did I have to cast aside in the first place?

I slid my hand into his and slowly rose to my feet, breathlessly answering, “Take me away, Loki.”

────༺ ♰ ༻────

Of course, I didn’t immediately leave with Loki at that moment. My parents were expecting me home. I explained to him that I needed to at least give them some excuse as to why I’d be suddenly moving out of the house. I gave him back his suit jacket and warmly smiled, thanking him for the opportunity before rushing into the house and packing my things. I didn’t have a lot to my name, so I was able to get by with two large suitcases.

When my parents inevitably confronted me, I’d already had my story straight. While I was out, a traveling modeling agent found me and offered me a full-time job in New York. They were extremely happy for me, we shared hugs, and they told me to make sure to reach out every so often.

That night, Loki returned to pick me up and take me to my new life. We left for New York City together and he helped me settle into my new life. He had Natasha, a former spy from Russia who turned to the Sons of Odin for a better life, teach me how to fight. He introduced me to his sister, Hela, the boss of the Death District of the Sons of Odin, and his brother, Thor, the boss of the Thunder District.

He even showed me his large penthouse. As it would turn out, he set aside a room for me down the hall from his. He apologized for the arrangement, saying it was temporary until he could find me my own space to live. I didn’t care. I was overjoyed that I’d be able to live with the man who came to The Lively Vixen and saved me.

I couldn’t tell whether Loki saved me from my life or myself that night. All I knew was that he’d breathed life into my walking corpse. He’d spared me from the mundane and I would be eternally grateful. He was my hero. My savior. My god of mischief.

It was six months into my training that I discovered my feelings for him didn’t stop at awe and admiration. I had fallen in love with him, and those feelings only grew each day I spent with him. It wasn’t until my ninth month with the Sons of Odin that I confessed my feelings to him, and surprisingly, he reciprocated, and even confessed that he was never looking for other living arrangements for me. So, I moved up the hall and we spent our first night together.

────༺ ♰ ༻────

“You look absolutely ravishing, my darling.” Loki’s eyes sparkled as we laid in bed together, facing each other.

“And you are such a charmer, my god.” I purred.

A growl rumbled from the back of his throat. “Oh, how I love when you call me that. It sets my very soul aflame.”

“Then I’ll be sure to use every breath I have left in my lungs to call you all the things you like.” I reached out to cup his cheek in my hand. “As long as you promise to call me yours.”

Loki and I leaned closer to each other until we were just a breath apart. “I promise.” He breathed before wrapping me in his strong arms and pulling me into a deep kiss. I let myself melt into him and we stayed in each other’s embrace until we drifted off to sleep.

Prinzessin - Princess

Sohn einer Hündin! - Son of a bitch!

Verdammt! - Dammit!

Sheisse! - Shit!

#loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #marvel #loki mcu #loki fic #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki marvel #mcu loki #mafia au #fluff

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flieslikeamoron · 1 year

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@skystamp tagged me and it took me a minute, but here are five songs I've listened to recently.

Let Me Down Easy - Daisy Jones and the Six

I watched the show, and it's fine. The ending was lame, but I liked it okay otherwise. Riley Keough and Nabiyah Be were very good. And yes, I listened to the album by this fake band. It's also fine. You might as well just listen to Fleetwood Mac, honestly. But it has some catchy tunes. I generally like the live versions from the show a bit better than the polished "album" versions though.

Waffle House - The Jonas Brothers

I'm still vestigially in Jonas fandom. It was never really about the music for me, I was in it for the fic. And for the codependent brothers. (Except I did love love love the DNCE album. Suck on that, Nick! Joe was secretly the most talented one all along!) But yeah, my favorite albums from my Disney era were Demi's Here We Go Again and Aly and AJ's Insomniatic. So although I still have feelings about the Jonas Brothers, they're not really much about the music. I still listen to their stuff though in the way that you might listen to music put out by someone you went to high school with or used to date or something. This one is fun, but I hate that one line about "headstrong father and a determined mother." It just hits my ear wrong rhythmically.

Fistfight - Ballroom Thieves

I added this one to my steddie playlist a while ago, and I listen to it pretty often. I really like the dirty groove of it, and the soar of the chorus. Love the line: They said love is grabbing blindly at a pit full of snakes/And wait to feel the only heel among the rows of all the venomous teeth and of course the chorus: You were a bright light/You were a fistfight. IDK I think that fits the way I'm writing them.

I'm a Man - Adam Lambert

This is from the covers album Adam put out recently. I don't like the Sex on Fire cover at all, but the rest is good. I think my faves are the Beatles-esque take on Getting Older, a sexy cool I Can't Stand the Rain, and a moody and modern Do You Really Want to Hurt Me that I like way better than the original. And this one, which is from Jobriath. He was an out gay rock musician in the early 70s. He had a big contract and a lot of marketing hype, and then his first album bombed, and he got basically abandoned by the industry and died of AIDS. Anyway, the Jobriath album is pretty much aping Ziggy Stardust/Bowie. Especially vocally. And it has several "space man" songs. But I kind of get more Elton John vibes overall. Jobriath was a pianist, so it's a lot more piano heavy than Bowie and it has these musical theater/showy/operatic tones. Like there's one song Movie Queen that just sounds like vaudeville/cabaret, not really "rock." Aaaanyway, Adam's voice is always A+ and you can tell he relates to this song. It's a great cover.

The One that Got Away - The Civil Wars

I guess Daisy Jones put me in the mood for fraught band relationships and tangled up feelings. This is so pretty and haunting. And I love that complicated dynamic of it was easier when it was just pining, and it was all potential, and it wasn't this hard, real thing.

#music #if you want to play consider yourself tagged #i can't figure out how to make the spotify links not huge

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thnxforknowingme · 1 year

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Naughty and Oh, So Nice

Pairing: Kublam

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Kublam returns for some seasonal smut! Kurt and Blaine don't see Sam much nowadays, so when they're all in one place over the winter holidays, they have to take advantage of the occasion.

Notes: Many thanks to all the other writers who have contributed to the 2022 Kublam explosion. This particular fic could be seen as a distant sequel to Confluence, but otherwise isn’t connected to the quasi-shared ‘verse created in the Impromptu Unofficial Kublam Summer Smut Fest. For the purposes of this fic, I imagine that Kurt, Blaine and Sam all had sex together semi-regularly while living in the loft, but that was the extent of their relationship. As in canon, Sam eventually moved back to Ohio and Kurt and Blaine eventually got married. This fic takes place approximately five years after their first threesome. Special thanks to the Lima Bean Discord server - particularly Court, Jen @1908jmd and Gwen @cerriddwenluna - who gave invaluable feedback to help me write something that even approximated sexy when I was feeling extremely unmotivated.

Christmas in Ohio - slushy and cold, the trees barren and sky the palest blue, suburban lawns decorated with the tackiest of inflatable singing decorations. More importantly, family and friends brought together after long periods apart. Present-giving, meal-cooking, and cozy reunions of all kinds.

Kurt could work remotely, and Blaine was between jobs - bad for rent payments, good for vacations - so they were able to spend over a week back in Ohio for Christmas, away from the holiday crowds of New York. They spent most of their time with family, but when Blaine’s parents departed on a Caribbean cruise on December 26th, leaving the Anderson house entirely empty, they gathered all their high school friends who were in town for a good old-fashioned Glee Club party.

The festivities lasted late into the night - drinking cider and wintery cocktails, decorating and feasting on Christmas cookies, singing songs around the piano. Finally guests began to reluctantly leave, as many had flights or family obligations the next day. Kurt had walked out to wish Rachel goodnight at the door, leaving Blaine to continue a heated debate with Sam, their last remaining party guest.

“A Christmas movie has to have like, Christmas-y themes,” Sam insisted. “It has to feel warm and cozy, you know?”

Sam was wearing a Santa hat with a bell in the white puffball at the tip, which jingled every time he moved his head.

Blaine took the miniature candy cane he’d been sucking on out of his mouth to respond. “Maybe your definition of how Christmas feels is just too narrow.”

Blaine heard the front door shut, and the sound of Kurt’s footsteps returning to the room. “Kurt,” he started, hoping he could get his husband on his side - Kurt was great at winning arguments, something Blaine normally loved about him, except when he was the person Kurt was winning against. “What do you -”

“I am entirely uninterested in arguing semantics over Die Hard,” Kurt cut him off as he sat down on the couch.

“Ha!” Sam shouted, as though Kurt’s refusal to participate meant a victory for him. He threw an arm around Blaine’s shoulders, and the movement caused both of them to stumble, the bell in Sam’s hat jingling as they regained their balance.

Sam smiled over at Kurt, then glanced around the room. “Is everyone else gone?”

“Yep,” Kurt said, tucking one of his feet beneath him. “It’s pretty late.”

Sam looked at his wrist, but there was no watch there. “I guess I better get going, then.”

“You, sir,” Blaine said, tapping the center of Sam’s reindeer-patterned sweater to make it abundantly clear who he was addressing, “are too drunk to drive home.”

Sam stared down at Blaine’s finger, and then looked up to meet his eyes. “That is very true.”

“Well, you’re welcome to crash here for the night,” Kurt said, “or for however long you need to sober up.”

Blaine saw Kurt smile, and his own chest filled with warmth. He knew that Kurt missed Sam ever since he moved back to Ohio. Blaine and Sam had enough in common that they texted each other frequently about movies and comic books, and occasionally managed to align their schedules and play video games together. Kurt didn’t tend to talk to Sam much when they weren’t in the same physical location, but Blaine knew he valued their friendship and was glad to be back in his company.

Blaine ducked out from under Sam’s arm and headed for the couch, collapsing next to Kurt. “This has been a very merry Christmas,” he said.

“You did go pretty hard with the peppermint schnapps.” Kurt replied with a wry grin. He looked up at Sam and patted the couch on his other side. “Come on,” he said.

Sam sat down - close to Kurt, but not leaning into him like Blaine was. “It’s been a long time since it’s been just the three of us,” Sam commented.

With those words, something in the room changed - the heat from the electric fire seemed suddenly more intense. Kurt glanced down at Blaine. Blaine raised an eyebrow, and Kurt smiled back. “That’s true,” Kurt acknowledged slowly.

Blaine sat up slightly, so that he could look at Sam. He sucked on his candy cane as he considered his next words. “Maybe we could do something to celebrate this reunion,” he said. “For old time’s sake. What do you think, Sam?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Definitely.” He paused. “You’re talking about sex, right?”

“Yes,” Kurt and Blaine said simultaneously.

“Then yeah, totally,” Sam agreed, already sliding closer to Kurt.

The music that had been playing through the Anderson’s sound system ever since the partiers ceased their caroling clicked over to Santa Baby just as Kurt leaned in to press his lips against Sams’.

There was something nostalgic about all three of them together like this, and they settled into their dynamic with the familiarity of slipping on a cozy Christmas sweater or stepping back into a childhood home. The give and take of three bodies maneuvering together, the sounds and tastes of each other igniting old memories of times in the loft. It was reassuring and thrilling all at once as they kissed and touched on the couch, growing increasingly needy, warm outer layers of clothing being shed until they shifted to the spacious, plush rug in front of the fire.

Kurt was just reaching to unzip Sam’s fly when Blaine said, “Hey, why don’t we try that thing you mentioned to me?”

Kurt looked up, blinking as he tried to focus on his disheveled husband. “Huh?” he asked, but before Blaine could respond he realized what he’d been referring to. “Oh,” he said, his face flushing as he remembered the idea he’d shared with Blaine a couple of months ago. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, we could do that. If Sam is into it.”

“Into what?” Sam asked.

Kurt took a deep breath. It had taken some courage to admit this desire to Blaine, but as he met Sam’s gaze, he knew that he was safe here - Sam had trusted them with so much, and he could share in that openness without fear. “I want you to tie my hands and make me watch you,” he said.

Sam blinked, and Kurt couldn’t help but notice how pretty his eyelashes were. “Watch us do what?"

Kurt raised a shoulder in half a shrug, as though any of this could be nonchalant. “Whatever you like. I just wouldn't be able to touch you.” He swallowed. “Or myself.”

It was hard to articulate exactly why this appealed to him. He’d always loved watching the way Sam and Blaine moved together, getting to witness how they made each other fall apart - it was so sexy that he could never help himself from joining in somehow. Something about removing his ability to do that - denying his desire, building anticipation as he got more turned on and desperate for touch he couldn't have - made him shiver.

"Okay,” Sam said gamely. “Whatever makes you happy.” The earnest care in his voice made tenderness and arousal battle for attention inside Kurt.

It probably would have been the most practical to go grab an old necktie from Blaine’s bedroom, but Sam had another idea. He stood and walked over to the staircase, unwrapping a length of tinsel garland that was decorating the bannister.

Meanwhile Blaine reached under the hem of Kurt's shirt, his nails grazing against Kurt's skin as he pulled it up his torso and off of him. The room was comfortably warm but it was still a slight shock for so much skin to be exposed, and he felt goosebumps break out on his arms.

Blaine accepted the garland when Sam returned, and moved behind Kurt to bind his wrists. Sam took over undressing Kurt, unbuttoning the clasp on his pants, the slightest of friction against his crotch already making him ache.

Blaine wrapped the garland loosely around his wrists. “Is that okay?” he asked, leaning in so his breath was warm against Kurt’s ear.

“Uh-huh,” Kurt replied shakily. It wasn’t the most comfortable against his skin, but it would serve its purpose for the relatively limited time they needed it for. Already Kurt’s body seemed more sensitive, feeling the air around him and the heat emanating from Blaine and Sam next to him. The pressure of the bonds keeping him from moving his hands, and the knowledge that he was subject entirely to their whims, sent a zing of pleasure straight to his cock.

Once he stepped out of his pants, Sam put a hand on his shoulder and applied gentle pressure, encouraging Kurt to kneel. As he settled on the rug his face was even with Sam's pelvis, and he could make out the shape of his growing erection. He started to lean forward -

"No," Sam said, his hand holding Kurt firmly in place. "You just wanted to watch."

Kurt relented, leaning back on his heels.

“Good,” Blaine said, bending down and putting a finger beneath Kurt’s chin to guide him into a quick kiss. He still tasted of the candy cane he’d had before. “Now sit back and enjoy.”

In their past exploits, they’d learned that threesomes almost inevitably involved taking turns - there was a balance between being involved and getting in the way. There were always points in their encounters where one of them wasn’t directly giving or receiving physical pleasure. But they’d never done it intentionally like this before.

Blaine lay back on the rug, just a few feet from Kurt, and Sam hovered over him. They kissed, melting into each other, their hands roaming confidently as they made out. Kurt watched as Sam undid the buttons of Blaine’s shirt one-by-one, Blaine’s eyelids fluttering closed as Sam explored the newly revealed skin. He ran his hands over the roughness of Blaine’s chest hair, and leaned in to flick his tongue over Blaine’s nipple, repeating the action until Blaine keened.

It was agonizingly slow, and Kurt’s body grew increasingly tense as he watched, unable to touch or press or taste. He felt himself growing hard, his dick straining against the fabric of his underwear, and he had to bite his lip to keep from whining.

Finally, the last of Blaine’s clothes were removed, the familiar shapes of his body fully on display. Kurt had seen Blaine like this so many times, knew his naked body so well, but that repetition did nothing to quell the heat that rose through him. Blaine reached for Sam’s head and pulled him in close, putting his lips right against Sam’s ear. The tips of Sam’s hair fell against his skin. He whispered something that Kurt couldn’t catch.

Sam let out a pleased grunt of acknowledgement. “Yeah, okay.”

“Not fair,” Kurt protested.

“Shhh,” Blaine told him, and then he reached for the packet of lube he’d retrieved from their bags.

Sam finished undressing as Blaine started to prep himself, and Kurt could hardly choose what to look at - the strong lines of Sam’s bare legs and the curve of his ass, Blaine arching his back with an expression caught between focus and ecstasy as he worked himself open, Sam stroking his cock as he too watched with a hunger in his eyes that surely mirrored Kurt’s own. It was almost unbearable to take it all in.

Finally Blaine was ready, and after Sam rolled on a condom Blaine straddled him, lowering himself slowly onto Sam’s cock until their bodies were flush together.

“Fuck, that feels good,” Sam hissed.

Blaine placed his hands against Sam’s chest and lifted his hips, setting a tortuously slow rhythm as he rode Sam. His thighs muscles strained as he moved up and down, his fingers tracing the hard lines of Sam’s pecs and abs.

Kurt’s mouth had fallen open and he was breathing unevenly as he watched. Blaine’s movement was hypnotizing, the sight of Sam’s cock sliding in and out of him intoxicatingly sinful. Their bodies were backlit by the fire as Sam’s head fell back in bliss. Kurt’s hips made small, pointless thrusts as he sought any sort of relief for his aching arousal.

After what felt like ages, Sam could no longer take Blaine’s slow pace. He reached up to grip Blaine’s hips, his fingers digging into flesh, and began thrusting up into him. Blaine gasped at the abrupt change in speed but took it well, surrendering himself to Sam’s control. Each thrust shook his body until Sam’s hips stuttered and he stilled as he came, his hands loosening from Blaine.

Blaine took a moment to catch his breath and then pulled off, disentangling his body from Sam’s. He pressed a kiss to Sam’s shoulder and ran a hand through his his hair. Then, finally, he moved across the short but impossibly frustrating distance that separated him from Kurt.

“How was that?” he asked Kurt, just a smidge cheeky.

“Please let me touch you now,” Kurt begged. The building anticipation had been just as much of a turn-on as he’d expected, but that meant he was desperate for attention now.

Blaine complied, kneeling behind Kurt to undo his bonds. “The best part of Christmas,” Blaine whispered as he untied the tinsel, “is opening presents.”

As soon as Kurt’s wrists were free he surged towards Blaine, cupping his face and kissing him with a force that pushed him backwards. As Blaine was pressed onto the rug, Kurt aligned their hips to relieve the tension in his groin.

Their passionate embrace was interrupted when they heard Sam speak.

“Hey,” he started, and took pauses between his words to breathe. “You can - fuck me - if you want.”

Kurt felt a thrill sizzle through his veins at the thought - he was so hard, and the idea of being inside Sam was excruciatingly tempting. “But Blaine - “

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. “We can take care of him, too.”

Sam’s knees and palms sunk into the velvety throw blanket that Blaine had grabbed from the couch as Kurt pounded into him. It had been a long time since he’d been fucked - not having been with any men since he moved out of the loft in New York - and the intensity of the sensation felt like sating a thirst he’d forgotten he had. Kurt’s fingers had been as talented as ever, and now each thrust of his hips sent a shockwave through Sam’s body.

Despite the overwhelm of it, he tried to maintain focus on the other task he’d taken on. Blaine knelt before him, his elbows resting on the couch and his cock heavy and full in front of Sam’s face. Blaine had given him an incredible orgasm, and he wanted to return the favor.

Somewhat clumsily - as his hands were busy holding him up - he tongued at the head of Blaine’s cock before closing his lips around it. He stretched his neck so that he could take more of Blaine, and hollowed his cheeks.

Blaine gave a low grunt of pleasure, and apparently that did something for Kurt, too, as he slammed into Sam’s ass with increased vigor. Sam tried to bob his head, to take Blaine deeper and find some kind of rhythm, but it was all too much - the feeling of Kurt pumping in and out of him, trying to keep his throat slack and not gag, maintaining his balance in this position.

He pulled off of Blaine and looked up at him. Blaine’s pupils were wide, his hair curling with sweat. He reached over and held Sam’s jaw, his thumb stroking Sam’s bottom lip. “You okay?”

“I just - “ Sam said, and then swallowed. Kurt’s fucking had slowed, and the drag of his cock was so amazing and so distracting. “Could you - take control?”

Blaine’s eyebrows rose, but he nodded. “If you want.”

“Not rough, but - yeah.” Sam told him.

Blaine lifted his other hand to cradle Sam’s head securely. “Hit my leg if you need me to stop,” he said.

Sam nodded, and he opened his lips. Blaine pushed in and began to shallowly fuck his mouth, and Sam relaxed, losing himself completely to sensation. He was rocked by the movement of both Kurt and Blaine, and there wasn’t a nerve in his body that wasn’t on fire. He didn’t feel like a person so much as a vessel for pleasure. It was something debauched in a way he couldn’t imagine doing with anyone he didn’t trust implicitly.

Blaine kept his promise not to get rough, never giving more than exactly what Sam could take, but before long his movements grew more erratic. The coordination that he and Kurt had built faltered as Blaine raced closer to the edge, his cock sliding between Sam’s spit-slick lips until he was coming down his throat.

Blaine pulled away and leaned back against the couch, leaving Sam with an aching jaw and a bitter aftertaste. Sam shifted down onto his elbows, and the new angle of his body as Kurt thrust into him sent sparks up his spine and blood rushing back to his cock. It was like all the pleasure he’d tried to give was being returned to him tenfold - it felt beyond his physical body, as though he’d reached some new plane of divine stimulation. Kurt hammered into him relentlessly, and Sam reached down to fist his own dick, the roughness and tightness of his hand giving him just the friction he needed until his euphoria burst and he came, splattering onto the blanket beneath him.

Kurt gasped as Sam tightened around him, and his own orgasm followed. He rocked their bodies together a few last times, letting out heavy, gratified breaths against Sam’s back before pulling out.

Sated and sweaty and sore, they all collapsed onto the rug. The light in the room flickered unevenly from the fireplace, supplemented by the glow of the Christmas tree. The stereo played on in the background, Andy Williams’ voice proclaiming it the Most Wonderful Time of the Year. The room smelled of peppermint and chocolate and sex.

Kurt let out a long sigh, shifting so he could rest his head against Sam’s shoulder. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

They all laughed, exhausted and giddy. Blaine curled up against Sam’s other side. “And here’s to many more,” he whispered, and Sam couldn’t help but grin at the thought.

It was late, and they would need to clean up - he hoped he hadn’t ruined that throw blanket, it was really nice. He should also probably drink some water to avoid a major hangover the next morning.

But for the moment, there was nothing he wanted to do more than lay heavy-boned in the close comfort of his friends and lovers, savoring the brief time that they had together over the holidays. Cuddling together in front of the fireplace, heartbeats echoing through their bodies, he was grateful for the warmth and light they could share during the darkest, coldest time of year.

#my fic #kublam #one shot #one-shot

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lieutenantmongoose · 1 year

Text

Verse Info: Muttongoose (title tba)

bc i’m too lazy and discombobulated to fic it rn bc it’s a whole slow burn and i’m not patient like that rn, anyway

*Always Sunny Meme/Sets up Dominos*

(spoilers ahead on the off chance i ever write this and you don’t want to know who takes a tuunbaq to the face or whatever)

It’s jopson, Jopson gets a tuunbaq to the face he’s okay he’s fine it’s a sacrifice that had to happen just hear me out i did the math it was necessary okay listen:

it starts out during Crozier’s Withdrawals. He’s almost through it but we’ve not had the Laudanum talk(tm) yet

Everyone thinks Tuunbaq is dead and the people said Thank U Mr Icemaster Blanky We Love U

Dr Macca is like Aight My Little Penguin Have U Considered,,,,,,Taking A Goddamn Break,,,,,,,and Jopson’s like Ew Why Would I Do Something So Horrible and Dr. Macca is like Lol U Don’t Understand Im Not Asking Im Telling,,,,Babygirl The Dark Circles Are Not Sexy Lmao Take A Nap :) and Jopson is like Ugh Fine Five Minutes and goes the hell outside

Due to a silly situation involving Irving and Little, Jopsauce is out on the ice when Tuunbaq, as one does, shows up

Thing is when Tuunbaq shows up u only really gotta be faster than like one person and it is Irving’s lucky damn day

Jopson’s actually okay until he decides the most appropriate solution to being nose to nose with the world’s angriest coca cola mascot is to stab it in the face

Tuunbaq is like U Go For The Face????? Bet

*Man of Constant Sorrow Plays On Xylophone*

Due to the wonders of medical inaccuracy and some Fitzjames Heroism Jops is actually A-Okay after this

i mean he’s only got one functioning eye and his hearing is janked up for a few weeks but other than that it’s all good and i mean the fact that Crozier has to just about personally threaten to shoot him before he’ll accept any Agonies Mitigation Drugs isn’t ideal but it’s fine he’s fine he’s good it’s all fine

Crozier’s like Aight Jipjop You And I Are In Danger Of Becoming Morbid Let’s Go To Carnivale And Have A Good Time For Once

Nobody Has A Good Time At Carnivale

Show mostly progresses as normal up until Terror Camp

At which point Tuunbaq to the Face Becomes Relevant bc i mean Crozier DOES still promote our boy to Lieutenant Status and does still give him a gun i mean why wouldn’t you but there’s an Incident and Crozier is like Listen Babygirl I Trust U With My Life And Everyone Else’s But We’re Gonna Let Someone Else Guard Sickfreak McStabbyface

Which frees Jop up to have a lil run in with Mr Collins and be like 👀

Naturally Jopson is like Oh No oh Absolutely Not We’re Not Playing This Come On Mr Collins I Think You Had Better Let Doctor Goodsir Have A Look At You

Collins is copping hugs left and right he’s very giggly he’s high as a kite he’s like I Haven’t Slept In Two Weeks Lol

Jopson’s like Dr Goodsir,,,,,,,,,,#Help

Goodsir is like Oh Dear,,,,,,,,,,Alright,,,,,I Gotchu,,,,,There There Mr Collins

Jop and Goodsir team up to help Mr Collins and it’s all very A Lot

Bc Collins and Jop are both with Goodsir during the #Execution, when Tuunbaq shows up it obviously does not get Collins and also have you ever tried to kidnap a doctor when he’s got a flustered mongoose and a drugged squishmallow in his tent??? It’s not happening bub you might as well give up now

so the mutineers gtfo and Goodsir is still with Team Terror and now he has a new B Plot to be part of while the series progresses otherwise as normal

And the series does progress otherwise as normal except Collins is coming off the drugs and has both Jopson and Goodsir being like Here’s Some Will To Live and Collins Is Catching Feelings So Fast

My Jop is still Aroace but he’s like Listen Being Needed Is My Drug And I’ve Been Having Withdrawals Of My Own So I AM Going To Be Weirdly Intense About This You Don’t Understand I Would Open My Veins For Captain Crozier He Wouldn’t Even Have To Ask When I Say I Would Do Literally Anything To Help You Sleep I Am So Serious I Am 8000% So Serious Rn What Do You Need Is It Me

Goodsir and Collins are like Uh,,,,You- You Good Bro? Jop is like Hey Is That A Bird

At some point Tuunbaq shows up again because it’s sick of waiting on this damn ship to sail too and Collins is like Okay I Can Be Weirdly Intense About This Too and Jopson is like Oh. Oh.

and then Goodsir is like, yknow when he walks in on what appears to be the aftermath of a category 80 hurricane,,,,, I’m Super Quiet About It But If You Want To See Weirdly Intense I Mean,,,,,

*coughs* they reach an Understanding

So naturally when Crozier gets kidnapped and Little is like Well UwU Everyone Says F That Let’s Go UwU Nothing To Be Done I Suppose UwU these three are like Oh Word? Are You Sure About That

yeah

#i have more but i'm lazy today #the terror amc #it's so stupid bc jopson has like a full on 404 error not found over like #collins and goodsir caring abt him #like he's a Chronic Caregiver so getting Uno Reverse Carded is like *Dial up noises*#they're a bunch of slap dang feral soft as hell freaks

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coldcocoamilk · 2 years

Text

ch 10 | I Went to College and All I Got Was This Lousy Degree

if you've ever wanted a Levihan modern high school/college au here's your fic. coming of age, figuring out your true self, make it a little gay sometimes, a lot of poorly paced chaos - what's better for a college student?

a precursor to this fic is the absolutely crackfic shitpost hodgepodge that was Grape Four Loko available on Ao3.

if you wanna read the college au on Ao3, click here.

otherwise, ch. 10 is under the cut!

It wouldn’t be a Halloween party without just a little bit of costumery.

Neither girls had a full costume ready, but rather pieces from old costumes that made it all feel at least a little like the holiday.

Nanaba was dressed in a pair of silver disco pants, a glittery silver loose top, and a pair of cheap silver sandals. She wore her hair down and her face had cheap silver paint all over it. She looked vaguely like a bionic woman and vaguely like mech-head’s wet dream. Still, she made it work, adding spots of that silver glitter from Halloween on her lips and the high points of her cheekbones, letting a viewer know that in spite of it not really being a costume, it was at least creative.

Hange had gone a more traditional route, donning a pair of chunky black boots, ripped black skinny jeans, and a corset-like black top that was definitely intended more for lingerie and not for actual outerwear. She pulled a long-sleeved shrug over it all that was made purely of a thick lace and donned a large witches hat decorated with iridescent black feathers and netting. Her lips were painted black, of course, and Nanaba had done some magic eyeshadow work to make her eyes smolder and the rest of her face look a little more gaunt.

In short, they were cute and sexy and all ready to go.

The rich kid who owned the ranch outdid himself this year. There was a dry ice smoke machine set up near the front door and several inside, making it hard to see the floor and covering everything in a pleasantly cool thick fog. Fake cobwebs and spiders were everywhere, and many of the lights inside had been changed from regular bulbs to black light bulbs. A photo op had been set up in the back yard with a glittery black piece of cloth thrown behind stacks of haybales. And there were pumpkins everywhere. Carved, whole, huge, small, weird shapes and albino ones were all present throughout the house. As usual, music throbbed throughout the house, giving it an almost heartbeat type feeling.

And they were alive.

Jell-o shots were everywhere – some in tiny plastic cups, others in orange peels, and some dusted with starch just laying out on a metal sheet pan. The kitchen had more bottles than they could count, as usual. Wherever the hell this guy got all the resources to throw a party like this, Hange would never know – but they were always top tier.

Hange and Nanaba pounded three of the orange Jell-o shots themselves, the candy-like substance sliding easily down their throat and tasting only slightly of vodka. They were good. Hange grabbed a couple of the cupped versions in different colors in her hands and meandered through the party, almost immediately losing sight of Nanaba in the thick crowd of people in the back yard. She said hello to some of her classmates and waved to even more friends from her lunch crowd. Two more delicious Jell-o concoctions later with a graduate from last year, the liquor finally hit her and she found herself laughing a little too loud.

“Hey, I’mma go in and grab some water,” she told them, stumbling over her feet. Okay, maybe five shots within a thirty minute span of time wasn’t the best idea, and she knew better. A tiny voice in her drunk brain nagged that they were delicious, though.

Water was procured and two more cupped shots were as well, thanks to the part of her pea-brain that wanted to stay this level of drunk. She wandered through the house, her friends outside long forgotten, eventually just crashing on the couch next to someone.

“Hey,” she said, passing them a shot. “Do a shot with me.”

He looked at her, silently uncapping the treat and rolling his pinky finger around the edge of the cup. “Cheers,” he replied bluntly.

She uncapped the water bottle after that, chugging half it down in one drink. Gasping for air, she re-capped it, then poked her friend’s knee.

“Told you I’d find you,” she said.

“And you did,” Levi laughed.

“You okay? You seem kinda out of it,” she leaned into the couch further, feeling it’s leather envelope her like a soft hug.

He shrugged. “I’m fuckin tired, Hange. I couldn’t sleep all night. I shouldn’t have even come out, really.” His eyes wander over to her for the first time. “I’m glad you came, though.”

His eyes are glossy. Well, at least they’re both on the same level, she thinks.

“I’m glad I came,” she replies. “This place looks awesome.”

“You look… really good tonight,” he’s staring at her with shining eyes, and she feels his gaze travel from her head to her toes. It’s uncomfortable, unlike the other times she’s been aware of guys checking her out. Maybe… no. But, possibly?

“Thank you,” she says awkwardly, feeling her cheeks and ears heat up. “You look the same, but I like the jacket.”

He chuckles at that. “Thanks, I guess.”

He has a leather jacket on, with a graphic pumpkin tee on underneath. He wears regular blue jeans and boots like hers, and maybe a smide of – is that?

“Are you wearing eyeliner?” She accused.

That earns her another laugh before he quiets. “Come here,” he says, reaching over to her.

She scooted herself closer to him, to a point where she could feel the heat radiating off him from under his leather jacket and leaned her head on his shoulder. The cool leather was nice against her flushed cheeks and made her aware of her pounding heartrate. Why was she anxious? This was Levi. In her heart, she knew he was a safe person to be around, but…

“Hey,” he says softly, jerking her out of her trance. “Relax. Are you sure you aren’t tired too?”

“I – uh – yeah,” she replies jerkily, trying to bring herself back into reality with a breathless giggle. “Sorry, I had like six shots, and I think they’re just hitting me now.”

He makes a noise deep in the back of his throat, something like agreement. “You know, we could just take a nap here.”

“We could,” she says, letting her eyes fall closed. “Bit of a waste of the night, but it sounds pretty nice right now, not gonna lie.”

“It’s not a waste. Hey,” he says in that same soft voice. She feels his hand trail up to her chin, gently nudging it up with one of his fingers. “Open your eyes.”

Her first thought is that his eyelashes are thick. She’s never really looked at him in the eyes like this, and she’s pleasantly surprised to find them peaceful behind all those lashes. For a moment, she’s jealous, and drinks their beauty in. Only for a moment, though.

Nobody expects their first kiss to be like the movies. And sure, she’s sure that this isn’t exactly like how the movies happen, but it’s pretty damn close.

His lips are soft, so much softer than she expected, and that finger on her chin is firm in tilting her head in the right directions. Before she’s aware of herself, she snakes her hand to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to her and deepening the kiss. He smells like peppermint and lavender and well-oiled leather and tastes like booze and is just so very incredibly soft.

Levi’s hand travels down her chin and onto her chest, ever so gently resting with his palm open right above her breasts. His touch feels like velvet and fire both at once, and suddenly she’s craving it. Her other arm wraps around his hip, the first place she can reach, gripping onto the sharp bone. It earns her a gasp into her mouth and sends a rush of pleasure to her body.

No, it’s not quite like the movies.

One moment, she’s having a life changing experience, and in the next moment, she’s having a completely separate life changing experience. The yank on her arm was hard, hard enough to pop her shoulder weirdly and make her stumble off the couch and onto her butt and elbows. Her back hits the leg of the coffee table, sending a jolt of pain through her spine. The slap to her face was abrupt and confused her further, forcing her to look up at whoever was choosing violence tonight.

The girl was tall, probably around Hange’s height, with pin-straight black down to her lower back and flawless dark makeup. She wore painted on black skinny jeans with rips down the thighs and an equally tight fitting black crop top, with a chunky pair of black leather boots to finish off the look. It registers in Hange’s brain that she’s hot. She’s incredibly hot, even when she’s pissed.

“Get the fuck off my boyfriend, you whore,” the girl hisses at her.

“Lay off, Mina,” Levi called from the couch. He was sitting up properly now, but his eyes betrayed how drunk he was. “It didn’t mean anything. You don’t have to go and hit her.”

Mina turned to face Levi, shoving him back into the couch by his shoulders. “Bullshit. You and I are done. She even fucking copied my outfit. I’m burning your shit.”

Hange watched the two with wide eyes, speechless. Levi has a girlfriend? Levi… had a girlfriend? He had never mentioned a girlfriend. In fact, he didn’t seem like the girlfriend type at all.

She was yanked out of her thoughts, quite literally, by Mina once again, who half-dragged her to the entryway where everyone was still sat milling about. “This whore was kissing my boyfriend!” She screeched.

“Mina, I said lay off,” Levi’s voice called behind her. “She probably didn’t even know we were dating!”

“Oh, like I’m supposed to care? She should know better than to get all up on someone. Fucking sluts never care if he’s taken or not!” Mina’s voice was somehow getting into the surprised-cat range of screech.

“Let her go,” he said, prying her hand from around Hange’s wrist. She shot him a thankful look, rubbing the area. “It never came up! It’s not her fault.”

Mina shoved him in response to that, forcing Hange to take a step back, not wanting to get hit again. “Because you never wanted to show me off like all your other girls!”

The two dissolved into a fight, with Mina occasionally trying to throw a slap or a shove in Levi’s direction and him outright dodging all of them. “I won’t fight you, Mina. I won’t hit a girl,” Levi shouted at one point.

Quite suddenly, reality hit Hange like a bus.

She stumbled her way through the house, not entirely sure where she was going. Everything was blurry, like someone had taken her glasses and given her an entirely different prescription as a replacement. Nothing made any sense.

Somehow, she made her way to a tiny powder room upstairs hidden away from the rest of the house before she burst into tears. Her face hurt, her wrist hurt, and oh god, her shoulder hurt like hell.

She could still hear them arguing outside. The music was off. The party was over.

Her fingers fumbled on her phone, sending a hurried text to Nanaba. Within minutes, she had read it and was pounding on the bathroom door. With shaking hands, Hange unlocked it, only needing to meet eyes with Nanaba before she declared they were going home.

No, her first kiss was nothing like the movies.

#levihan #college au #levi x hange #levi x hanji #snk #aot #fanfiction #snk fanfiction #levihan fanfiction #fanart #fanworks #my writing

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justtuesdays · 2 years

Text

meet the bombshells: interview

thanks again everyone for all your comments and support (and love, always love). the only way to cope this season is to shower our mc’s with some fun-loving group of bombshells. so I made three and then made another three. so if you’re looking for ig, marco & tandy’s interview or confessions look here. otherwise, here’s lambda, yosi & roma’s interview. feel free to send ask for any of the six!

✖️so the audience’s met the first set of bombshells, and wow! but look at you three— my days! so, tell us all, a bit about yourselves.

R: (smirks) "Requirements did say, hot— I'm Ro, short for Roma. Twenty-nine. Bi. Race-car mechanic. And yes, I do ride...in all the senses."

L: (snorts) "I guess we're coming in guns blazing (Roma shrugs, Yosi smiles) The name's Lambda, my brother the math nerd got to name me. (Yosi turns piqued with interest) Are you a nerd too, Yosi? Intelligence is sexy. (Yosi blushes) We'll get back to that later— (Roma nods) Twenty-seven, demi and professional gamer."

Y: "Professional gamer? Is that all? It felt like there was more. (Lambda winks) Right...I'm Yosiah Hamdy. It's either Yosi or Hamdy, twenty-five, figuring things out— um and, vet."

✖️ what are your types?

L: (cuts Roma off, sends them a smile) "Dr. Hamdy, huh? I like it! It’s about time we had a few people who could hold intellectual conversations. (Producers gesture for her to move on) What? That’s the best way to segue into— my type are people I can hold both intellectual conversation just like idiotic ones. Someone who enjoys a good laugh and a good meal…someone… who…doesn’t think my career is a joke—”

Y: (offers Lamba a one-sided hug, Lambda leans into him) “You’re awesome and no one else’s opinions should matter, but most times they do. It’s the human condition. (He shrugs) My type…a decent human being.” (Roma and Lambda chuckle, Yosi smiles)

R: “Ditto on that one, Doc. If only there were more than a handful. (shakes their head) My type…someone who can keep up, who’s interesting and if they want an actual relationship…(Lambda snorts, Yosi raises a brow) someone who isn’t scared to call bull-shit.”

✖️looks or personality?

L: “And what I’m getting is that no one’s ever done that. (Roma smirks) Where exactly did you say you were from? (Roma answers) Ahh…well I’ll happily take the bull-shit caller role until someone steps up. And, personality for me.”

R: “Definitely personality for me, but looks doesn’t hurt anyone right?“

Y: “That depends on your expectations. (Roma replies) I suppose not having expectation could work, theoretically. But, I’m gonna go with personality too.” (Lambda high-fives him)

✖️turn-on and turn-offs?

R: (holds out their fingers) “Turn-ons: nice hair, nice lips and knows what they’re doing. Turn-offs: a liar, tries to mansplain cars to me, generally mansplains shit and clingy.”

L: “Here I thought you liked them clingy. (Lambda giggles, Roma smiles) Hmm, I actually have to give the turn-on a good think. Turn-offs: doesn’t take my career choices seriously, can’t take an L, overbearing— (Yosi stares quizzically) Look, there’s little I can do when it comes to avoiding bruises, it’s the nature of roller derby. (Roma smirks, Lambda continues) Turn-ons: somewhat of a homebody, supportive, can cook…god knows I’m lazy and take-out is only good for so long. Doesn’t mind playing nurse once in a while. And…that’s it I guess, wait, nice eyes.”

Y: “Roller derby, what you’re a Jammer, then? (Lambda beams) My sisters a big fans of derby, maybe I’ve seen you play. Anyways, it’s not a long list for either. Turn-offs: hates animals, condescending, and chews with their mouths open. (Lambda cracks a cow joke, and burst out laughing, Yosi smiles) Turn-ons: has a great sense of humor, gets along with my family, doesn’t mind the quiet days and loves animals.”

✖️worst dates?

R: (Lambda nudges them) “I’m starting to think you are enjoying this, Lambda. (Lambda sticks her tongue out, Roma pretends to grab it) Ok, most people know this one, so I won’t be surprised if I come back to Twitter sleuths. I once went out on a date where my partner thought to surprise me with their cooking. Great cook. But bloody awful memory that one. I’ve told them time and time again that I was allergic to mushrooms and sure not twenty minutes into our food, I’m lying on the ground unable to breathe and they’re panicking. If you’re gonna go ahead and attempt to kill me at least help them out with their epi-pen.”

Y: (He cringes) “Yikes. If something like that happens here, I can help you with the application. Hopefully, it doesn’t. (Roma pounds him) Does it count if it happened before the date? (Lambda and Roma nod) So, my date offered to pick me up from the field, and they got their a lot earlier then expected. I was helping deliver colts, and they vomited.”

L: “Noo! They didn’t. (Yosi nods) How do you even go on your date after that? (Yosi answers) At least you didn’t have to go to lunch with vomit-breath. My worst date would be at the arcade. (Roma asks why) They thought I’d enjoy some competition. But, I got the satisfaction of winning and watching him storm away like a kid. Fragile masculinity. What can you do?”

✖️biggest romantic gesture?

Y: (rubs the back of his neck) “I got them a puppy.”

R: “Now, that’s sweet, Yosi. You’re a big softie aren’t ya? (Yosi blushes) Someone once filled my car with flowers.”

L: (She laughs) “I think they mean your biggest romantic gesture, Ro. (Roma shrugs) I was seeing this girl in a band once, and I liked their music so I used their music for one of my videos.”

✖️have you ever cheated or been cheated on?

L: “Never. And, yes I’ve been cheated on.”

Y: (mildly upset) “That’s shitty of them. (Lambda offers a weak smile) I don’t cheat. And as far as I know, I haven’t been cheated on.”

R: “Yes and yes. (Yosi and Lambda look on curiously) I came clean to them and then broke up. Apparently, being on-and-off all the time we kept losing track of when we were even together so a lot of what we did was cheating. It wasn’t really serious, but man did that f*** me up.”

✖️would you guys take back an ex?

R: “No.” (Producers ask them to elaborate, Roma doesn’t budge)

Y: “Um, I think so. It would depend on the situation we broke up in.”

L: “I couldn’t. No matter the situation. I hold grudges for a while and I’d hate to be the one to bring old shit back up.”

that was enlightening! glad you guys aren’t the ones in the villa with the ex. next time, we’ll have these guys answering your beach hut questions. until then, keep on sending those asks.

#litg5 #litg bombshells #oc bombshells #oc: roma valdez #oc: yosiah hamdy #oc: lambda rojas #meet the bombshells #interview #send in your asks #they'll be answered #tuesdays: ocs

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remisummerglow · 4 months

Text

Shrink Toys Reviews

Sex toys > Fetishes > Macrophilia > Shrinking and Growing Tools > Marcus and Johnson’s FAST Shrinking Powder, 500 mg

Reviews

Carl M.

A must-try for macrophiles

177 of 181 users found this useful

Thanks to this I was able to make my dream come true. I tried it with my girlfriend and the next thing I knew I ended up half a cm tall in her hand. I was able to explore her body all night. A few tips: 1) Make sure you get the antidote as well when you buy this. It’s sold separately so unless you want to stay tiny… plan accordingly. A lot of people complain about this. First they shrink and then they have to stay tiny for the next couple of days until they can get a taste of the antidote. Well, that doesn’t sound that bad to me at all! But whatever you wish to do, if you are reading this, you have been warned.

2) Make sure you can really trust the person you’re going to use this with. Horror stories are surfacing about people shrinking and then terrible things happening to them. DON’T use this with someone you just met, no matter how hot that may sound. DON’T use this with prostitutes. DON’T use this without telling your girlfriend/wife/whatever.

3) It’s called FAST because it’s meant to be used fast. Its effect wears off a few seconds after it’s opened. It’s made that way for a reason, otherwise it could be used to shrink unwilling peeps by adding it to their food and drinks. So don’t hesitate and just swallow it as soon as you can once you take it out of the blister. It’s not cheap so you’ll want to make sure you don’t waste it.

4) There are currently four sizes available: M (turns you ten times smaller, so about 17/18 centimeters if you’re average), S (turns you twenty times smaller, so about 8/9 centimeters), XS (about three hundred times smaller, more or less half a centimeter) and XXS (almost two thousand times smaller, more or less a millimeter). Make sure you get the version you would enjoy best. Essentially S means human dildo, XXS microscopic fun. Personally I made sure to try them all and can’t wait for new sizes to be added.

Rating: 10 out of 10

Jack D.

Works as intended, tastes awful

74 of 92 users found this useful

I have no qualms about the functionality of this product. It works just as advertised. I only wish it didn’t taste so bitter. It left a horrible taste in my mouth which almost ruined my playtime with my wife and I was too small to do anything about it. Because of the peculiar way it has to be used, there is no way it can be added to some orange juice or soda. They could make some strawberry or chocolate flavored versions to fix this problem and I really hope they do.

Rating: 7 out of 10

Jenna M. Should be outlawed

44 of 74 users found this useful

I haven’t used this product and I don’t intend to. However, since it was made available to the public, all kinds of freaks and perverts have started using it to sneak into my house and spy on me. Just so you know, everyone I’ve caught has ended up underfoot. I have no reservations about stepping into perverts who have no respect for the privacy of women, and no one should!

Rating: 1 out of 10

Karen E.

Beware of compatibility!

61 of 65 users found this useful

I wish I never agreed to let my (now ex) husband use this thing. Apparently the growth formula in the antidote does not react with his body, so he stayed small. He’s here with me as I write this, sitting on the desk. Five millimeters tall. I’ve spoken with doctors all around the state and no one was able to ultimately find a cure for him. Just do not use this. It’s not worth the risk.

Rating: 1 out of 10

Olga S.

Not just for sexy purposes!

79 of 86 users found this useful

I’ve gotten a bottle of this and I’ve started using it to carry my boyfriend around. I can sneak him into a concert then hide in the bathroom and get him back to normal there. Of course, because of its high price, it doesn’t make sense to use it for a $10 movie ticket. Just do your math and make sure the money you’re saving is worth the effort. EDIT: Beware because it can backfire as businesses are starting to wisen up to its use. Airports are a no-go. They have updated their metal detectors so they can sense hidden tiny people. It made the news once when they found a woman who was carrying someone in her panties. Imagine her embarrassment! Trains and buses are still fair game as far as I know.

Rating: 9 out of 10

Sophia T.

SO much fun

110 of 142 users found this helpful

Rating: 10 out of 10

Ivan M.

“Cured” me of size-related fantasies

28 of 30 users found this helpful

I guess this is personal, as many people enjoyed it just fine. For me shrinking down wasn’t a very good experience. My girlfriend at the time was very careless and rough and ended up bruising me and leaving me in pain. When she finally returned me to normal, I ended up with a broken leg. We broke up soon after. I don’t fantasize anymore about that kind of thing. I guess it’s some kind of PTSD, but whenever I check some size related materialnow, I sorta panic. I guess my advice would be: use it if you really want but make sure you really know who you’re getting in bed with.

Rating: 4 out of 10

Laura D.

Me and my husband divorced over this

75 of 100 users found this helpful

Honestly I found this kind of annoying. My husband would come to me and ask me to be his giantess. OK, I said at first, why not. But then he started wanting to do it every night. Regular sex wasn’t on the menu anymore. Instead he would climb up my feet as I sat down on the bed or on the armchair. All he wanted was to be at my feet and sometimes other parts of me while shrunken. Naturally this was boring to me, so I began to object to it. Eventually I told him I didn’t want to do it anymore. It was about that time that he started seeing another woman, I think. Eventually he left with his new mistress. Our daughter is mad at him and says I should have crushed him back when I had the chance. She’s probably right…

Rating: 1 out of 10

Jill F.

Writing this review in place of my boyfriend

80 of 134 users found this helpful I’m writing this because he can’t. He is currently 1 mm tall and licking (I guess? I can barely see or feel him) my feet. Since he shrunk a week ago he hasn’t wanted to return to normal (I’ve given him the antidote a few times, but he refuses to take it). So for him, this thing would be a 10 out of 10. For me, it’s more of a 0 out of 10… I’m getting real bored of having a speck-sized boyfriend hanging out on my toes. To other girls who might be reading this: learn from my mistake and if your boyfriend is that much of a pervert, dump him on the spot and go look for a normal one instead. Rating: 5 out of 10

Katy S.

Ooops! I lost her

20 of 25 users found this useful

My girlfriend had always wanted to be tiny so I let her have her way. Problem is… I can’t find her anymore! I’m not sure where the hell she might be. I’ve searched anywhere, from my clothes to our bedroom. Be really careful what you do once you shrink someone down. I’m leaving a good rating anyway since this thing clearly works.

Rating: 8 out of 10

Susy R.

I squished my brother 99 of 127 users found this helpful

this is maybe too personal to share, but i wanted to warn other people of the dangers of using this “shrinking powder”. one day we couldn’t find my brother anymore. me and my mom thought he had run away from home and wanted tocall the police. that’s when we found the bottle of shrinking powder in his room. we started panicking and searched the whole house. we were very careful of where we were stepping and completely clueless as to why he would use such a thing. i only found out a few hours later, when i was about to do my laundry. he had climbed on the crotch of my dirty panties and was frolicking in there. it grossed me out at first, then i got so mad. he had shrunk himself so he could go into my bedroom and perv on me, his own sister. i could not think straight anymore and squished him on the spot. to this day i don’t really regret it but i never told mom the truth. she thinks he’s just missing and hopes maybe someday we’ll find him on the floor of the living room…

Rating: 3 out of 10

Jim D. Voyeur paradise

55 of 110 users found this helpful

I prepared for this in advance. I started searching for a house with a hot female roommate. I found the perfect apartment and signed a one-year deal. I’m really sorry about this, Sarah (not your real name, of course), but I’ve been spying on you for months now. I make myself small enough that I can sneak under a closed door, then make my way under your desk. That’s the perfect place to look at you undressing. Sometimes when you’re studying at your desk I stare at your beautiful feet and legs for hours. The shape of your toes, every wrinkle in your sole is forever burned into my mind now. You don’t know how many loads I’ve blown under your desk, Sarah… To you, I’m the rommate who’s always outside. I heard you talking on the phone, you’ve said it so many times. You love having me as a roommate since it means having the house for yourself most of the time. Ah, if only you knew the truth…

Rating: 10 out of 10

Mary N.

Great for busy moms

78 of 104 users found this helpful

I realize many people don’t endorse this use of the powder, but who cares. I think it works great for busy moms like me. I just make my kids small, then bring them to the office so I can keep an eye on them all of the time. My co-workers actually find them cute. It’s way cheaper than a nanny when you consider the money you save on food. And if needed, punishing them requires no effort. Just a tiny fickle with your finger and boom! They straighten out. They fear me like I’m some kind of god, which I appreciate. I don’t even need to raise my voice to make them afraid of me. Some people in my family have criticized me for the way I’m raising them. I told them I’m sure my kids will grow up (no pun intended) as better people than most of their peers, we’ll see who gets the last laugh.

Rating: 10 out of 10

#size k!nk #giantess #macrophilia #sizetumblr

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sandythereadingcafe · 1 year

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

defeat (m.)

no thoughts, just sparring with naoya in his black tee and fucking him all sweaty

cw. sweaty sex, breeding kink, naoya and his wife are both ass people, doggy style, naoya is very touchy, lame fight scenes lol, creampie, unedited and just brainrot tbh

note. in honor of naoya being a canon ass man and overall just celebrating his sexiness (plus talking to my wife about naoya genuinely awakened my breeding kink) prompted by this ask!

# part of the trophy wife collection

“Let’s train. Gym, in five minutes,” your husband commands with a playful glare. Rolling your eyes at him, you lean back to make yourself more comfortable on your seat, arms crossed over the robes to show your defiance.

It’s not every day you tease him like this, but training in the middle of the day? You’re not in the mood of it.

One quirked brow from Naoya, though – merely a premise of what is to come if you don’t follow him to the training grounds – has you switching to your yoga pants and a fit shirt to match his outfit. The whole way there, you shamelessly stare at his backside that looks enticing and begging to be squeezed, especially in his light grey sweats that cling to his thighs deliciously.

“You done staring at my ass now?”

“Nope,” you chirp, popping the ‘p’ as he begins to stretch, rolling his eyes at you when you still very much openly stare at his ass. But it’s fine, since he’s doing the same and you’re prompting him to in the first place.

Out of your extensive wardrobe that your husband spoils you with, you had to choose a pair of dark yoga pants that are hugging the outlines of your legs, your shirt barely even keeping you modest as you extend your arms side to side. You and Naoya smirk at one another, cursed energy kept brimmed to the bare minimum as to not hurt each other. Despite always being cooped up in the Zen’in Estate per Naoya’s orders (and you don’t really feel like going out anyway), neither of you doubted your skills in sparring.

Long before he met you, he’s heard of your name spoken in high esteem, another special grade one sorcerer just like he was. This fact remains even as you’re married now, and Naoya closes the gap between your bodies, his gaze directed at your lips and hands trailing up to squeeze your neck, his eyes so hazy that it seems as if he’s not entirely aware of his actions.

“My love,” you purred, clasping the wrist connected by the hand where his thumb is rubbing circles over your vein. “Are we here to train or are you too distracted?”

“A sorcerer must never be distracted.”

“So keep your eyes wide open, sweetheart,” Ducking your head under his grasp, you ram yourself into his chest where he immediately falls on the ground, the wind knocked from his chest. Naoya’s reflexes are fast before he’s up to his feet again to mimic your stance, his arrogant grin showing that he’s not that irritated by how devious you could be, using your allure as his woman to take his attention away, if only for a little bit. “You look a little tired. Want me to go easy on you, babe?”

“Don’t you dare.”

Cheater, he’s a fucking cheater! Faster than you could comprehend, Naoya already has you pinned before him, your legs locked in place with how he’s shifting his weight onto your ankles. You hated it so much every time he used his technique against you, but then again, there weren’t any rules that stopped him from doing so.

“Well?” he prompts and leans down, hovering his lips right before your ear while you pant under him. “Aren’t you going to fight back? I didn’t invite you here to be boring with me.”

Stifling a laugh, you use your strength to push him off you, and you spar heartily with your husband who seems to be in a good mood, considering the rare influx of compliments leaving his otherwise harsh tongue. It’s no easy feat as he’s skilled even without using his techniques, and the both of you are breathless by the time you’ve delivered and handled the other’s blow by blows, your palms and muscles sore.

Your husband is in no better state.

He’s struggling to catch his breath, his legs bent and his arm drawn over his knee. Naoya chuckles under his breath when you drape your sweaty arms over his back, shameless and wanting as you tap his cheek to urge him in for a kiss.

Albeit grumbling he doesn’t really want to touch you when you’re covered in sweat, he kisses you anyway, smiling before he hitches you onto his lap that you’ve proudly claimed as your throne.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“Sometimes you forget I’m just like you, Naoya,” you rub your nose with his, foreheads pressed while you rock yourself over his groin. His eyes darken in warning, large hands coming up to knead your ass that you know he worships so much, though he makes no move to stop you, and really, he never would. “Just because I’m your precious little wife who would gladly serve you tea, doesn’t mean I won’t hesitate to hand your ass back to you.”

“Oh, will you, now?” he chuckles, “I’d like to see you try.”

“I already did.”

“Only because I let you,” Naoya mumbles on your lips, his once curious kneading now turning more intentional, more heated. “You’re funny if you think I’m letting you win against me.”

“So then why did you?”

“Because if I do, you’ll let me do this.” This refers to tearing your shirt apart, exposing your sports bra to him that is now clinging to your skin from the sweat, droplets of perspiration dripping from the tips of your hair and down to your flushed chest. Gasping from the torn material, you try to slap your husband’s destructive hands away.

“Naoya, that’s my favorite shirt!”

“Because you like the brand or you know because I go crazy every time you wear it?”

“Both, of course,” you scoff, and Naoya silences your protests by capturing your lips for another feverish kiss. A cheater, a huge, immature cheater he was – he knows so well that you get so weak every time he’s like this, and it really isn’t beyond him to exploit other’s weaknesses for his own enjoyment. And as much as you enjoyed this too, you don’t really want to fuck in a room that smells like sweat.

“Naoya,” pulling away from his sweet lips (which is a shame, really, you could’ve made out with him a lot longer), you ignored the throbbing he’d caused deep within your core. “My love, if you want to fuck me, you should take me back to the room.”

“You’re ordering me around now?”

“You will take me to the room,” you repeated firmly, dragging him down by the collar to force him to look at you. “Be mean all you want, but at the end of the day we both know you want to be buried inside me.”

“You’re not any better, wife,” he remarked, and he squeezes your sensitive breasts as if to prove a point. “At the end of the day, we both know you want me deep inside your tight cunt.”

“So then let’s help each other out.”

Ordering him around was one thing, but compromise? Naoya is a man capable of it, he just doesn’t like to show it because he doesn’t want people questioning his power. Your husband who is mostly anger and greed, his mind clouded by the need to always be better than others, shifts a little just for you as he carries you in his arms, your legs wrapping around his slender waist like second nature.

Naoya must’ve been so eager that you’re back in your room in a flash, with your back bouncing on the mattress and him stripping above you.

“No!” you insist and stop him, “Keep the shirt on. Please?”

“What the fuck for? It’s sweaty and sticky.”

“Exactly, and you look sexy like that.”

“Fucking filthy,” he scolds, but keeps the shirt on anyway and lets you roll it back to his waist. His pants, however, they need to be off. Your husband watches with unmasked interest as you push the band of his pants until you’re throwing it somewhere on the room. In return, you shimmy out of your yoga pants that are now uncomfortably pressed to your skin, discarding all forms of clothing that irritated you. Settling down on the bed, you spread your legs right beside his hips, but Naoya only smirks, groping your knee with a chuckle. “What, you think I wanna fuck you like this?”

“How else then?”

“Oh, come on,” he prompts, “You kept staring at my ass the whole time. I think it’s time I return the favor.”

Without another word, he flips you onto your stomach and grabs you by the waist, giving you no time to relax before your head is pushed back down on the pillows. Naoya’s warm cock is throbbing from your backside and he groans, delivering a harsh smack to the skin before it aches under his touch.

“Such a pretty fucking ass that’s begging to be fucked,” in time to his words, you wiggle your hips at him in a silent complaint to get moving already. Naoya simply grips down on your hips to keep you still, spanking you once more as a lesson. “Don’t fucking move.”

“Naoya, please, just fuck me already.”

“Needy little wife, begging to be ruined, huh?” Another smack.

Shutting your eyes tight, you fist the sheets under you as tears come to life. “Yes, ‘em so needy for you, Naoya, want your cock so bad, please-” Your pleading is cut off when he slides into you in one fluid motion, his deep groans resonating around the room once he’s seated comfortably. Mouth falling open at the pleasure of being stretched so open and shocked by the fact you’d already been so wet, you could barely register the pace he’s started.

Naoya keeps fucking deep into you, slapping your ass repeatedly and calling you his dirty little slut – mine and all mine only, he said. You’re left immobile and whining under him, all of your consciousness centered on the burning sensation between your legs.

Beneath you, Naoya’s hands travel to tug your bra downwards. The material remains stuck under your breasts and you moan around his rough, calloused hands that are expertly kneading your breasts. His pace quickens until his hips are roughly slapping against yours, grumbles and garbled moans mixing in with your little gasps of his name in a desperate plea to be brought to your orgasm.

You feel so raw, so dirty, so filthy like he said.

Sweat and arousal is coated on your skins and everything about this position feels so primal, even more so when he begins to rub at your clit just to push you over the edge. “Oh, fuck!” you grasped his bicep with one hand, the soreness of your muscles extreme.

“Yeah? You like that? You’re such a good fucking girl, taking my cock like a bitch in heat,” he spits in your ear with lust dripping from each word, and his words are enough to make you cum around him.

Walls clamping down on his cock, you hear Naoya grunt above you, his chest now pressed onto your back. You’re crying around him but he only goes faster, he’s so close and like the good wife you are, you help your husband by driving your body back to meet him thrust by thrust. Naoya’s chuckles are stuttered and half mixing in with moans when he runs a hand through his hair, those same hands following in gripping your cheeks to face him.

His kisses are sloppy and short-lived; you’re too busy moaning and he’s struggling to breathe with your pussy convulsing around him. “God, so fucking tight!”

“Hmm, come on, baby, come for me,” you encourage by rolling your hips around his cock, ignoring the fact the oversensitivity is making your legs turn to jelly and your arms are seconds away from giving out on you. But you hold strong, this is the duty of his wife, and you look past your shoulders as Naoya digs his nails into your hips to keep you still while he cums inside you.

“Oh, fuuuuckkk,” prolonged groans spill from his mouth the same way his own cum is released in spurts from your pussy lips.

Satisfied and extremely tired, you fall limp on the bed. Naoya dips two fingers to collect the mess you’ve made and you shudder, but then he lets go of you until your lower body is sliding back down on the bed, eyes droopy from that heated fucking. The minute sounds of sucking is enough to let you know your perverted husband is most likely feasting on your cum, but nothing prepares you for when he pushes them back inside your pussy.

“N-Naoya!” you exclaim and stare up at your husband, whose attention is zeroed in on your pussy lips hungrily encasing his fingers and cum. “What’re you doing?”

“You think that’s enough to get you pregnant?”

“What?”

“Don’t answer that,” he narrows his eyes and begins to pump his cock that is half hard again, the sight making anticipation and arousal throb all over you. You’ve seen that look on him before, and it’s the face he makes when he’s dead set on accomplishing something. “I’ll keep fucking you until I’m sure you can grant me an heir.”

In combat, you’ll most definitely spar with your husband without fear of losing, but having Naoya in bed when he’s determined on breeding you is a different thing.

This, without a doubt, is the one thing you can’t beat him on. And not that you wanted to, anyway, having him fuck a baby in you does sound nice.

Locking your eyes with your husband, you willingly spread your legs open for him again.

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