Do you think bugs fall in love?
Their small bodies host even tinier brains. Built to crawl through soil and rocks bigger than itself. Running on a simple software bouncing between eat, sleep, fight, flight, and copulate.
V1 is smarter than a bug. It must be. It’s a war machine, so it must be. Its programming is complex enough to fry several motherboards; the internals are heated from constant, unrelenting processing needs. If it updates its optical data intake to any greater degree than these rough, messy polygons, it’d surely perish from the overwhelming information.
V1 is built to kill first, survive second. To be fair, survival would ensure more killing, so it’d be more effective. Moving through the battlefield, culling lives, drawing blood. Perfectly aligned with its programmed objectives, then.
Gabriel is smarter than a bug. He must be. He’s an angel, so he must be. He’s one of the best soldiers in the heavenly realm. Armour and swords glistened with pride and justice. He sees all. He judges all. His loyalty and perfect track record have earned him a high rank within the order. Leaving behind the creaturely "it". His light burns hot and bright within his constitution.
Gabriel is built as a messenger of the Father, then a judge of Hell. To be fair, the role of a judge was assigned to him by the council, so he supposes that his placement can be summed up as the bearer of the divine authority to bring right to all other creatures. Perfectly aligned, then.
Bugs… Well, they’re the same. I suppose. Small beings. Running pre-programmed orders derived from centuries of evolution: eat, sleep, fight, flight, and copulate. No role. No responsibilities.
Bugs are built naturally and fully, unlike humankind; but formed and ready to go within seconds from their births, like machines and angels.
So. Do they live?
When the machine and the angel escape their chains, do they see themselves in bugs?
Bugs are born to live, temporarily, fleetingly, yet live nonetheless. Do they, then, deserve to live, freeing and meaninglessly. No role. No responsibilities.
So. Do bugs love?
Do they learn that they can go beyond their basic structures? Do they see their own reflection in each other’s compound eyes? Do they recognize each other’s bodies, scents, heat? Do they feel the desire for closeness?
To flutter wings like a dance of waltz. To brush antennae like butterfly kisses. To greet and caress and lie next to each other near their death.
To move through the sky in battle, in passion. To clash swords and fists and bullets. To greet and caress and lie next to each other near their death.
The same cells in the same blood coursing beneath the same suit of exoskeletons.
Machine, angel, bug. Boiled down to the barest essence of existence; crisp simplicity.
To live, to love.
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Event?????
1 or 7, domestic style fluff with my favorite eel?? ♡♡ (it's Floyd of course)
I leave romance vs platonic up to you, gn reader so everyone can enjoy as well :)
Can't wait to see what younc9me up with!!! If you need any help or ideas come bug me, floyd sits in my head constantly like a very annoying song
Warm Mornings; Floyd Leech
Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, romance
Content Warning; Some swearing
Word Count; 700+
Author's Note; Who needs a weighted blanket when you have a Floyd? I am here to deliver soft Floyd(TM) hours! (he also sits in my head constantly; the song is the low-quality Funky Town)
Even when Floyd was dead asleep, he squeezed you, and that was your situation now. You were lying on top of him, and he had you in a comfortable yet strong bear hug. Just tight enough that you couldn’t wiggle free from him. And it was normally fine, but last night someone had left the window open and now it was warm and humid in the room, making you feel sticky.
“Floyd,” you whispered, trying to wake him up gently.
A gentle snore was your answer. You should have expected that though, he sleeps like a damn log.
You tried wiggling around a bit, but Floyd just hugged you tighter on unconscious instinct and rolled over, trapping you under him. Yeah, you were officially stuck. “Floydddd,” you groaned, poking him right above his hips. “You’re crushing me.”
Usually he would wake up by you repeatedly poking him, but he was out cold, he only just shifted, trapping your face where one cheek was pressing against the mattress, and the other was smushed up against his chest. Normally, you wouldn’t complain about this situation, but it was grossly warm. You were also too far away from your usual ‘escape the crushing weight of my dearly beloved eel route’, which was just tickling his legs and feet. Too bad your arms were pretty much pinned against the bed.
“Floyd, get off me,” you grumbled, squirming around like a worm on a hook.
Still nothing.
Sighing, you accept your fate. Besides the humidity, it was rather nice. Sure, you couldn’t make out the crashing of the waves on the beach, the steady beat of Floyd’s heart was right up against your ear, and it was slow and steady.
Slow and steady, not two words many people would associate with Floyd. It was a calmer side that only you got to see; when you were overwhelmed, or when he was feeling soft. Yes, he was usually a bundle of energy, but even he had his quiet moments. Within the hurricane, there was always the eye, where things remained still, despite the wild winds outside.
“Mmm,” Floyd groaned, the first sign of life you’ve seen since you’d been sandwiched.
He slowly blinked his eyes, working out the sleep from them, and tilted his head down so he could actually see you, since you were still stuck between his chest and the mattress. “Heh heh, I caught a Shrimpy in my sleep!~” He drawled, voice chipper but still heavy from sleep.
“Yes, yes you did. Can you please get off though, it’s gross out,” you groaned. At least he was cute, which the wild bed head only played in his favour. How can he look so good in the morning? Maybe it’s a mer thing… “Floyd?”
He hadn’t moved, and was instead giving you a wide grin. “Hmm, maybe I should’ve called you Crabby instead of Shrimpy, Shrimpy,” he pinched your cheeks teasingly, “since you look pretty crabby right now.”
You rolled your eyes, “And maybe I should use that mushroom risotto recipe that Jade gave me for our dinner tonight. But that’s only if you don’t get off.”
Floyd narrowed his eyes at you, trying to make out if you were bluffing or not, since last time you were dead serious and did exactly that. But he rolled off of you, grumbling a bit. “Meanie,” he muttered.
You shuffled over to where he was dramatically splayed out, his head slightly turned to you, and giving you puppy dog eyes. Chuckling, you kissed him on the lips, as that is what he was being dramatic about.
Giggling, he captured you in his arms yet again, and trapped you against the mattress for a second time this morning. He was giving you a shit eating smile. You weren’t leaving this bed until he had his share of kisses.
“Floydddd,” you groaned, but you weren’t annoyed with him, if anything, you were amused. There was never a dull moment with him around.
“Shrimpyyyyyy,” he mimicked your voice with a more prominent whine. “You know the drill!~”
Sighing, you ran your hands up through his messy hair, and brought your lips together, deeper this time. You knew the drill; neither of you were getting up until both of your lips were tired, sore, and most likely bitten… which may not be for a while.
~~~~~~~
Tags: @azulashengrottospiano, @eynnwwyjth, @hydra-sea, @krenenbaker, @officialdaydreamer00, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii
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Thinking a whole lot about how good it feels to see someone after the anticipation has been building for a while. There's not much I love as much as a good sexual tension.
Maybe it's been a while since you last saw your dad's best friend but now he's here in front of you, you're counting down the minutes until you can get him alone.
It's hard in a room full of people though. He's just walked into your parents' kitchen, a beer in his hand and as soon as you realise he's looking at you, you look away. You know yourself well enough. Maintaining eye contact with him would leave you fizzling and it's much too early for that.
He doesn't look away. No one would have noticed he's staring but you can't help wondering what he's thinking about. Is he imagining the last time he saw you and how pretty your face looked painted with thick stripes of his cum? Or is he imagining how it feels to slide into you, burying himself to the hilt in your warm, wet, fluttering cunt? Maybe he's imagining the way you beg him not to pull out; the way you clamp your thighs around him and make sure there's no chance of him cumming anywhere except inside you.
If he wasn't thinking about any of that before, you're convinced he must be now. He's leaning against the kitchen counter, ignoring a conversation going on around him with a smirk on his lips and you have to wonder if he can read your mind.
'I'm going upstairs, follow me in 10.' You send the text and leave the kitchen without even looking at him. You have yourself convinced that if you look at him, people will know. They'll know everything. They'll know you think of him every time you touch yourself and they'll know that doesn't even come close to actually being with him.
You've been settled in your room for 14 whole minutes before the door opens.
"Couldn't even hold it together a couple of hours?" Bucky sounds smug and he has every right to.
"I could but I didn't want to. Why should I?" You're on him in seconds, tugging at the collar of his shirt, using it to press his lips against yours.
It's a frantic kiss, all tongue and teeth and breathy moans, hushed as much as possible.
"I want to go back downstairs with your cum dripping out of me." You don't have time to waste so you might as well get right to the point.
"Sweetheart, we both know that's not what you need." Bucky's fingers trail up the inside of your thighs, under your skirt. "You don't need me to cum. You need me to take the edge off."
The soaked fabric of your panties only proves his point. He watches you while he trails his fingers in concentrated strokes against your clit, enjoying every tiny gasp he earns from you.
"I can treat you properly later like we planned. Just let me help you out." His eyes are trained on yours while he slips your panties down your bare legs. With your cunt exposed, he presses you back onto the bed, kissing from your knees, up the inside of your thighs.
One finger sinks inside you, followed by another before his lips seal around your clit, his tongue flicking beautifully.
You've gone from no stimulation to so much at once and it's making your head spin. God, he's good at that. He needs this just as much as you do and it's lovely to be with a man who gets off on eating you out the way he does.
The way his fingers curl inside you is truly breathtaking. "You're going to have to be quiet, angel. At this rate, the whole house will know I'm up here making you cum against my mouth."
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