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ginevrafangirl · 1 year

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Love Between Fairy and Devil Commentary Part 2

More highlights from my reactions to this drama, episodes 13-24.

Part 1 | Part 3

SPOILERS ahead!

oh no emo boy is staging a coup // also the actor for emo boy really has peak younger sibling face

his expression is EXTREMELYY badass rn // though you still need to redeem yourself after that unneeded kissing of girlie

omg i think batman actually cares about his friend, he just laid his head down ectremely gently

does batman love his bestie enough to transfer his cultivation? // omg he DOES

i LOVE me some depth to my villains

oh jin guangshan is the god of thunder and lightning! its always the king of the gods that has that power!! the parallels to greek and indian mythology!

oh dragon boy, you were so close yet so far // i love these loyal sweet slightly naive yet super powerful and badass right hand men of the male lead // dragon boy, welcome to the club that consists of wen ning, zhong li, chuanyu, and someone from eternal love i am most certainly forgetting (mdzs/cql, who rules the world, eternal love references)

OMG HE MADE THE FLOWER PETALS FALL

lol people wrote smut about them // i meannnn its basically celebrity real person fic

sauron: i wanted to see you // girlie: see ME?? // sauron: i wanted to see you FIX THE BOOK

boy the moment you feel ANYTHING sweet for her you double down on being a dick

lesbian shopkeeper is a hustler and has STREET SMARTS

okay i suppose i gotta cut dragon boy some slack, he is indeed a literal dragon and doesnt understand human customs

jieli is the human 'are we dating' buzzfeed quiz

sauron: its EMOTION time baby

this is the game of thrones lesbian 'teaching you how to make love to our chief' scene

girlie is actually twirling her hair ornaments around her fingers

tragic misunderstanding brothers, my jammm

sauron: i have no emotions. thus i dont love you // girlie: i am so happy that means you dont hate me // like GIRL

i love when this show does comedy man, its so funny

i mean she is literally TAKING EDIBLES

is her hair jewellery getting more and more elaborate??

honestly batman could be honest about his true plan and i think iceman would understand

batman is growing on me as well. his motivations are kinda dark lwj, actual dean winchester vibes // and he actually cares about iceman. fucking yu wuyuan WISHES he had this kinda dimensions (mdzs/cql, supernatural, who rules the world references)

jin guangshan is the true villain of this show, just like hes the only true villain in mdzs

the love triangle i do not love, but its funny that in any other show iceman and girlie would 100% be the main leads, i mean their backstory set that up PERFECTLY

god is speaking to ice god // oh its jin guangshan speaking from the sky

damn man must not even be able to jerk off without big brother watching

dragon boy: you're also an orphan? // sir there are a lot of orphans in this world

dragon boy you want to be trustworthy and honest and you're working for THE LITERAL DEVIL

catwoman has a WHIP!? of CHAINS? thats BADASS

she fixed it??? since when did she magically gain THAT ability

its really interesting how physical objects enter illusions and dreams // by that i mean the fucking golden leaf

'how dare you come for my people' cue ROCK GUITAR SOLO

sir you already broke the couldron once, aint batman just gonna glue it back together again?

they sure sacrifice the plot effects of the one heart curse in favor of romance quite a bit

evil god??? there is a god named evil god??

i think girlie has grown proper fond of sauron // she is acting so 'oppaaaa' aegyo-y to him rn

who tf sleeps with their arms crossed, sauron, you can be such a pouty child sometimes

i am glad they showed the effect on all the soldiers and families that die in meaningless battles

soooo since she looks like an old woman, i guess in this universe immortals do age, just really really slowly

cue the 'why are you running meme' except its sauron being chased by an emotion

oh his emotions are growing! its cause she is the goddess of xiyun that can cure anything (oop)

i think daddy was losing the war and got desperate and traumatized his kids

she is wearing more jewellery! symbolism of her falling more in love and growing more comfortable by his side?

sauron: oh NO i am feeling an EMOTION

the founder of the moon tribe is lady yan, aka princess yue heheeh (atla reference)

jieli, honey, why did you have to make things so hard for yourself and try to steal

jieli stealing makes no sense, she is a smart woman, she wouldnt take that kinda risk

so sauron here is incredibly op and the big struggle he has to overcome is dealing with his own emotions

this is a very thinly veiled metaphor for men being fucked up and emotionally repressed and the women in their lives having the responsibility (even if taken willingly) to fix the emotions

langhua is THE 'i can fix him' girlie now that she cares about him

girlie always finds her backbone whenever it comes to a man smh

i think girlie and lesbian shopkeeper should date, dragon boy and sauron should date, girlie and sauron should date, and just be a fun polyamourous quartet

daddy is a qi deviated nie mingjue (mdzs/cql reference)

if the book is burnt to ashes, how are you gonna find a random pile of ashes? how do you know its the book? // someone very conveniently collected the ashes and put them back in the original box and put the box in the throne

if the final step to the ritual is patricide, how will he successfully complete the ritual this time?

bro just became ghost rider

also why was there a throne in the bedroom of daddy?

difference between daddy and sauron and the nie bros is that nhs always knew his brother loved him very much (mdzs/cql reference)

she is INSANE to willingly jump into a whirlpool to go to the afterlife to ask a very scary demon lord if he loved his son // girlie is one dedicated pr agent

she is just supermanning through this water // and he is ironmanning through it

if the guqin was repaired by magic, why can you see the cracks?

its a tragedy innit

oh why do i get the feeling he is gonna have to kill her to win some kinda battle and control hellfire again

this dad is the exact opposite of elio's dad in cmbyn

they are practically shoving the cinematic parallels in my face

also there was absolutely NO need to get shirtless lmao he just wanted to show off

give him a hug, girlie // YES // wow // that must be his first hug since his nanny // fuck the patriarchy for not letting men hug each other

sauron with his hair down is a LOOK

emo boy wanted to spend time with his gegeee

she has huge asian mom energy by bribing him with food

i'm not sure if he still wants to take over the fairy tribe or not, this could be a potential conflict in the future

is girlie STILL in denial about her liking him? boy you like the IDEA of ice man but the actual sauron. stop lying to yourself

LMAO he's like i will kill everyone for you so you can go back homee

ice god is suffering from a sad case of second lead syndrome

wow security at the tower is BAD if she was able to sneak him out so easily

dont you dare follow him danyin // NO // do NOT // oh fuck me // ofcourse she did

i wanted some fun mortal shenanigans, not this angst

girlie there are only a few people in shuiyuntian that are worth leaving a powerful man who you've got in the palm of your hands

i think its so funny the mortal realm is called yunmeng lake

dragon boy and lesbian shopkeeper are slick wit it

so the show is shipping my bisexual icons the shopkeeper and dragon boy?? i can fuck with that

oh wow the girlies are gaslighting and manipulating love that for them

you mean to tell me a mansion of this size was simply up for sale???

being a brothel entertainer is probably what being an idol was like

DID BISEXUAL SHOPKEEPER JUST EAT A RAW BHINDI (a bhindi is a ladysfinger vegetable)

the voice actor is giving the ice mans dad so much more oomph than the actor

oh god mortal ice man is gonna fall for fake mortal girlie

sauron: what is this strange illness that has befallen me // dragon boy: idk man but i have it too // me: WUV

daddy again? i thought we were done with this arc // but i guess you cant heal from trauma that easily

that moon is huge, at this size it would most definitely flood the earth

i wonder whether lady si ming will make an appearance in this story

motral jack frost was BORN with the jade??? did it also come out of his mortal moms fanny??

NAURRR I DONT WANT HER BELOVED TO BE SAURONNN

sauron: jealousy jealousyy

jack frost, being the true artist that he is, getting creative in the middle of the night

the way you can tell that girlie is well and truly over jack frost is that she seems excited about his match with lady war

and that kids, is what you call a self fulfilling prophecy

this is a whole grown ass man, and theyre making him go back to school??

JACK FROST CALLED SAURON HIS ZHIJI??? // proof that polyamory is always the answer

finally!! the batman and lady war backstory i have been waiting for

honestly i am all for destroying shuiyuntian, i have no reason to side with the so called heroes of this show

what is it with disciples that are unhealthily attached to their masters and are willing to go to literally any lengths to revive them after dying // the sam and dean style of unhealthy attachement (eternal love, supernatural references)

human jack frost is such a simp

how is it ep 23 and there still hasnt been a love confession

so sauron is a makeup artist too?? // the james charles of ugly makeup??

i love when incredibly powerful men are vain bitches

they are beneficial conqueror vs peace loving hippie couple

jack frost is a playboy but he will never steal another mans love. it doesnt matter if the woman says no, the only barrier in his road is another man laying claim

siblings or dating: cdrama edition

pissy and bitchy dongfang qingcang IS SO FUNNY I AM DYINGG

dont just tell me that catwoman killed everyone, SHOW ME // i wanna SEE her go on a murderous rampage

honestly the bisexual power couple's dynamic, jieli and shangque, is suited to my taste. her just bullying him and him liking it

girlie has incest on her mind

"asking for a friend"

omg DANYIN TRANS ICON CONFIRMED

not jieli actually saying 'i am not like other girls'

jieli is a BUSINESSWOMAN she has no time for ROMANCE

girlie is having deja vu

This was it for episodes 13-24! There will definitely be a part 3 for the last 12 episodes.

PS: I alternate between calling changheng ice god and jack frost, and variations, but they are the same person!

#love between fairy and devil #langhua #fairy orchid #dongfang qingcang #ronghao #danyin #changheng #lbfad #lbfad commentary #gf originals #loooooooooooong post

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sandbees · 3 years

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Child! Yuu: Heartslybul

So I was planning to write a full on plot idea for All the chapters, then I look at the chapters themselves and...yeah that’s going to drain a lot out of me. So instead I’m going to write what each dorm will think of Child Yuu and general headcannons about it.

Ace:

The older brother that Yuu looks up to.

When they first met, Ace was ragging on Grim. He didn’t say anything too mean to Yuu, though. That’s because of his inability to make kids cry.

Really, who makes a 10 year old cry? (Looks at the overblots)

I think Ace would act as the brother Yuu would look up to because he acts all cool around them.

He’d definitely teach Yuu some card tricks he learned from his family.

He treats them like a little sibling. (He’s always wanted a little sibling actually, to tease and joke with)

Yuu has smacked him 100% for being stupid (“Even I know not to make deals with shady fish men. Big brothers, why?”)

Look me in the eyes and tell me Ace doesn’t praise Yuu for causing trouble. Look me in the eyes and tell me.

I mean he’d probably lightly scold them but still.

If anyone makes Yuu cry? Guess they’re going to be thrown back in a gust of wind, with a lot of insulting words to boot. No one messes with Yuu.

When Yuu called Ace “big brother”, he smiled widely, and proceeded to act all smug about it (but he’s really happy that Yuu calls him a big brother)

Deuce:

Deuce is trying his best to be a good big brother.

He has no idea how to be a brother, he’s never had a younger sibling - or a sibling in general.

He’s going to try extra hard to be an honor student; he doesn’t want Yuu to grow up like him! He has to be Yuu’s role model!

Yuu wants Deuce to use magic to lift them up like he did with Ace. Deuce says no.

Low key scared that he’s going to scare Yuu if he goes into his “bad boy mode”

“Those poor chicks...” “...NOOOO THE CHICKS D:”

Ace explains to both of them that the eggs they have aren’t fertilized and never had chicks in them - it’s a chick shock x2

Yuu is softer to Deuce if he does something stupid, but will still scold him.

Both Deuce and Yuu are the excitement duo; they will be excited for anything and will be very hyped up about it.

Deuce is Yuu’s favorite brother (but they don’t say anything because it might make the others jealous)

Deuce summoned a cauldron by accident once, and Yuu climbed in and played peek-a-boo until it was...unsummoned? (I have no idea what happens to the cauldrons summoned by Deuce.)

When Yuu called Deuce “big brother”, Deuce was very flattered. “Big brother? You think of me as your brother? Well, I’ll be your best brother in the world!”

Cater:

So I imagine Cater taking a lot of cute pictures of Yuu.

He’s posted some photos of you on his Magicam and his fans love you.

He totally shows Yuu all of his cute animal photos he’s collected over the years if they asked.

Cater has two big sisters, so he knows the ins and outs of how to be a good sibling.

I can see Cater swapping foods with Yuu - he gives Yuu any sweet food in exchange for some salty food

Yuu doesn’t complain because they like the sweets Cater gives them

But sometimes it becomes a full on debate/trade deal that they take way to seriously.

“What about if I give you this, and you give me this?” “Never! That’s my favorite part, what about this?” “Hmm...I rather do like that...but what if I sweeten the deal and add this!” “....Clever, clever brother.”

Small photo shoots, Yuu is happy to hang out with him!

I think if Yuu ever wanted to wear a Heartslybul outfit Cater would be the one to help find one that suits Yuu (Trey would be the one to tailor it to make it fit better)

Yuu calls Cater “Cay-kun” whenever they want something from him, and he can never say no.

Yuu can always rely on Cater for any troubles they may have.

“Yuu~! Smile for the camera!” “Ok! :D” “I’m saving your smile forever.”

When Yuu first called Cater “big brother”, he laughed and went over to take a photo to celebrate a new sibling bond. (#gotayoungersibling #arenttheysocute? #newbigbrother)

Cater will live up to his big brother role, after all, as Yuu’s new big brother he has to take care of Yuu, no?

Trey:

Yuu thinks of Trey as a big brother and also the best parent.

Would buy Trey a #1 Dad mug if Yuu didn’t also see Crowley as their dad (sorry Trey...but your Yuu’s favorite 3rd year if that helps-)

When they first met, Yuu just got big brother vibes from Trey. Immediately went to hug him.

“You have big brother vibes and I vibe with that.” “What?” “It means Yuu likes you.”

Trey goes full big brother mode whenever Yuu is around. No one with ill intent (who has malicious thoughts about a child?) would think of approaching due to Trey being around.

He definitely spoils Yuu with any treats he bakes (though not too much - they’d get a stomach ache if they ate too many sweets!)

He’s totally the reason why Yuu went on a Sugar Rush around the school (luckily, nothing of value was broken)

I mean, he has a little sister and younger brothers so he knows how to deal with Yuu being hyperactive.

So the damage of the Sugar Rush incident was less destructive than it would have been.

If Yuu is sad, they can rely on Trey to be a shoulder to cry on. He’s very good at listening to their problems.

When Yuu calls him “big brother”, Trey carries the title with pride. Yuu also uses this as an advantage; call Trey big brother? He’s more willing to hear out whatever Yuu is asking more.

Riddle:

Riddle, Riddle, Riddle.

How do I put this? He made Yuu cry.

Yeah, not the best first impression.

During the Unbirthday party, when Riddle knocked the tart off it’s plate, Yuu is quick to defend Ace. Riddle retaliated with yelling at Yuu.

And Yuu (in my canon) does not take people angrily yelling at them well, which makes them panic and cry.

Cater and Trey didn’t have to force them out - Deuce and Ace left as soon as Yuu burst into tears and ran. (As good brothers, the duo went to go and comfort Yuu)

Riddle, for what is was worth, suddenly had a flashback of when he ran away in tears when he was young. He tried to convince his mother to have a tart, and she scolded him to tears.

He feels like an jerk now. A big, mean jerk.

After the overblot business, he didn’t expect a lot of forgiveness. Which is why he was surprised when Yuu walks over and hugs him when he was conscious.

Riddle: Wh...Why are you hugging me? Why do you think I deserve this?

Yuu: Because you look like you needed a hug. I forgive you for earlier, you had your reasons, as much as I disagree with them.

Yuu: You’re fine now! I hope I can help you make amends with Heartslybul big brother! :D

From that moment on, Riddle became Yuu’s big brother.

It was a really sweet moment, and no one dared intervene (well, Grim tried to but Crowley held him back)

As a big brother, Riddle is very overprotective. Be around Yuu in a way he deems “inappropriate” and “as a bad influence”, expect him to go “OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!”

Despite that, Riddle is particularly soft with Yuu.

If Yuu broke a rule, he’d softly scold them, but he did it in a way that was like a soft reminder and not like a lecture.

He’s never had a younger sibling before so he’s asking Trey for tips to be a good older brother.

I’d like to think Riddle teaches Yuu proper tea etiquette whenever they come over for Unbirthdays

Both share a love for sweets, so they tend to share/exchange sweets during lunch

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland imagine #twisted wonderland mc #ace trappola #deuce spade #riddle rosehearts #cater diamond #trey clover #child!yuu #twisted wonderland headcannons #Heartslybul #ace and deuce almost punch riddle #Yuu is too pure for this world #and the world will burn if anything happens to Yuu #the more people Yuu drags into the family the more the world will suffer if they get hurt

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youryanderedaddy · 3 years

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Love Fuel

Summary: You were Jason’s first love before you broke his heart and rejected him. It’s all your fault that he can’t move on.

Tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, incel behavior, nice guy behavior, self - hatred, threats of non-con, implied non - con, implied masturbation, bullying based on appearance (not reader), deregatory language, kidnapping, misogyny, generalizations, stalking

this is a hot mess but its 1 am and i am tired, ik that incels are bad irl (obviously), but this is fiction and I kinda wanted to explore the dynamic and shit.

Everyone used to call him JJ or The-Big-Jay back in high school. Well, most of the time his classmates weren’t really calling out to him or even talking to him, the names were whispered behind his back, after he had just passed the hallway, or on bad days - right to his face. The jocks, these dumb motherfuckers, would beat him up, mock him for whatever stupid reasons they had chosen to use as an excuse to torment the smaller and weaker. The popular girls would giggle like brainless bimbos as Kyle or Brad or any other football player stole his glasses or continuously punched him in the guts until he threw up all over the floor. Even the nerds, the kids at the bottom of the school hierarchy, messed with Jason from time to time when they wanted to feel the oh - so desired rush of power they so rarely managed to experience.

Looking back, Jason could see why his classmates hated him so much - he was everything that society deemed as wrong and unattractive. He was thin, pale, “scrawny” as the others called him, on the shorter side, and on top of that the teen was terribly shy and introverted, never having the guts to stand up to his bullies or even tell someone about the abuse. The male spent most of his free time at home, playing hours upon hours of video games, watching anime and reading books he was simply too young to understand or look critically at. As he grew older, the man began to view the world as it trully was - a dark, miserable place that ate up sore losers like him. Men were primitive and foolish, which somehow managed to soften their faults. Women, on the other hand, were calculative and manipulative, greedy and sinful. His whole life they had done nothing but reject him when he needed love and support the most. Of course, there were many other reason why the brunette detested the weaker sex. In his eyes women were evil two - faced sluts, showing off their bodies yet acting innocent and hurt once someone finally decided to use them for the only thing they were actually good for.

But you Jason hated the most. You reminded him that no matter how much he hated the outside world, he would always hate himself the most. He had to admit you were pretty, painfully so, with a perfect little body to match your looks and a sweet sugary smile that almost deceived him years ago. As much as the man regretted his weakness, he had fallen right into your trap at the time.

You weren’t the most popular girl, but you had your fair share of friends, all nice and loyal like puppies. You weren’t the smartest either, but unlike the other stupid giggling sluts you always tried to do your best. You were beautiful just like them but you were actually kind to the pathetic bullied kid no one else bothered to acknowledge even existed outside of being a punching bag. You always asked him whether he was alright and often took him to the infirmary when he looked paler and sicker than usual. You talked to him as if he was a normal human being and despite the initial doubt, Jason appreciated it.

It was the last day of your senior year when the teen finally gained the courage to confess. He was shaking the whole time and by the end of his little speech there were small tears in the corner of his eye. You were the first girl the male cared about, the first one to show him kindness, to offer him friendship without asking for something in return. You were the only one who could make him feel deserving of love, worthy of affection. And then you took it all away in a matter of seconds.

“I am sorry, bud.” You had said that day after giving him a half - hearted hug and an apologetic smile, that started to seem more and more like a mocking grin the longer the teen started at you. “I already have a boyfriend, but I am really flattered. I am sure that you will find a lovely girl once you start college.” You had added quickly, cheerfully, rubbing the salt all over his wounds, honey dripping from your plump red lips. He had wanted to kiss them, bruise them, bite them until your stupid lying mouth was filled with blood. Obviously you didn’t have a boyfriend or he would have known by now, he stalked your social media religiously after all. Even if you had one, he probably treated you like shit. And how could you even suggest him finding another woman? As if he wanted any of the stupid money - grabbing sluts out there. As if some of them could replace you.

The boy was too furious to form a proper response besides “Fuck you, bitch”. His cheeks turned red and he didn’t realise that the bitter words had escaped his lips before he could stop them, then his legs took him far away from that shithole of a school. He didn’t manage to see your reaction before running away but it didn’t matter anymore. You were just like the others.

***

That day Jason swore to show you just how small and insignificant you had made him feel. He wanted to see you crumble, cry and beg for forgiveness, desperate for his love but never good enough to get it. The man formed a plan to change himself and come back for you once he had erased each and every trace of his past. The brunette came to terms with his terrible social anxiety and decided that he needed to gain social abilities more than anything. That’s why, as much as he dreamt of working from home as a boring programmer with an even more boring, but flexible working schelude, the male chose to study something that involved a lot more human interactions. The next step was to hit the gym for the first time and get a monthly subscription. It wasn’t hard to see that females nowadays liked brain - dead athletes with defined jawline and cheekbones, toned chests and strong muscled bodies, so if he wanted to impress you, he had to look his best. It wasn’t easy at first - it felt like everyone in the fitness salon had their eyes on his weak frame, laughing and pointing their fingers at his imperfections, but things gradually got better as time went on. The trainings became easier to get through and from time to time they even helped the man forget about his loneliness and nihilism.

Jason soon returned to his old habbit of spending hours looking through your accounts - Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, he knew all of your usernames, each post, every picture and text. He couldn’t believe how much of a desperate attention whore you had become over the years. The male remembered you in your long brown skirts, cozy sweatshirts and pure-white shirts, all the gray buttons closed to the very top, blushing, laughing, smiling like the adorable Goody-two-shoes you were. Now you were smirking seductively in every photo, overconfident and vibrant, flaunting your tits for every man to see and wearing tight little dresses that barelly covered your ass combined with heels so high and sharp they could be used as a weapon. You were such a stupid slut it was disgusting, and he couldn’t stop himself from jerking off every single time he saw your pretty little face on the screen. He wanted to cum down your throat so badly it was ridiculous, and even after knowing that you had probably already had hundreds of cocks shoved deep inside your pussy, the brunette still wished to see you split open on his, taking his lenght like a good little cocksleeve.

***

The moment when he could see you again finally came. How many years had passed since graduation - five, ten, fifthteen? It hardly mattered. Jason was successful, at last. The male had his own business that was doing surprisingly well, there were some guys from the gym he could call friends and the best thing, he looked absolutely unrecognizable. There was nothing left of the tiny scrawny kid with quiet voice that everyone stepped over, he was now replaced by a strong capable man, determined to get what was rightfully his and his alone.

It wasn’t hard to find you since the brunette knew everything about you - where your job was, what time you finished, how long it took you to go home and what path you took. You lived alone and worked as a barista in a small local cafe even now that you had finished your studies in your dream faculty. Turns out the princess wasn’t so great and smart after all, having to resort to working a minimal - wage job day and night just to be able to pay her rent. Jason was absolutely delighted though, he loved your stupid dead - end job and your endless struggles to survive in the materialistic world honestly and fairly without selling yourself like a common whore. On one hand the male was happy that you had clung onto your last bit of innocence and on the other your pitiful lifestyle gave him the chance to snatch you away much easier. And that’s exactly what he did.

***

You woke up confused just like he had expected, bombarding him with questions, asking him who he was was, begging him to let you go, to at least explain what’s happening. You were so dumb, but God, you were still so pretty, if not prettier than before. You cried so beautifully when Jason told you you belonged to him now and you cried even more when he slammed his cold rough lips over yours in a deep wet kiss. You whimpered and whined while the male sucked on your lower lip and bit down, good, he wanted it to hurt. The stalker couldn’t wait to be inside you, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

He climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists to the floor before tying them up with delicate red rope and tightening it. It wasn’t like the man was scared of you slipping away and hurting him, you were too weak and tiny to stand a chance against his years of power - lifting and muscle - training anyways, he just wanted you to be as uncomfortable and squirmish as possible. Your tormentor wished for you to be in worse pain than he had been during his youthful years, and he knew exactly what to do. Next thing you knew Jason had ripped your dress apart, leaving you vulnerable and exposed in just your plain old panties and bra. Cold shivers ran down your spine when the chilly air hit your naked flesh and you finally realized there wasn’t getting away from this. You had to stay there, limbs bound together, unable to move or fight back, the stranger’s hands caressing your neck before moving dangerously close to your clothed breasts. You felt so sick you were going to throw up for sure if your abductor didn’t step back so you decided to use your last resort.

“Jason, please stop!” You screamed out of the blue, forcing the brunette to freeze instantly at the use of his birth name. You had already called him a pervert and a psycho which didn’t seem to faze him, but the name clearly caught him off guard. This only seemed to prove your theory further - the man really was your former classmate, despite the only similarity between them being the dark distant look in his eyes. “I beg you, don’t hurt me!” You continued, hoping to at least buy yourself more time before the assault took place.

He gulped loudly and stared at your quivering form. The impossible had happened, you had recognized him and now together with fear, there was also pity in your gaze, the one emotion your captor absolutely despised. You used to be the only one who pitied him, and even now that he was bigger, better and stronger than before, you still had the guts to pity him. It drove him insane but any attempt to hurt or touch you was fruitless now - your soft skin was suddenly burning his fingers like hellfire.

“You must be thinking that I am a monster.” Jason started out dryly, chuckling bitterly, humorlessly even. He clenched his fists unconsciously and brought them to the floor in a fit of rage, missing your head by mere inches. Your heart was beating like crazy and you only hoped the mandman couldn’t hear it. “A freak.” The man spat out the word like it was a curse and for a split second his eyes softened before turning into two spinning torches. “Right?” You were sure that if looks could kill, his would have you dead by the end of the night so you quickly nodded your head no.

“You are lying to me again, pretty girl.” The brunette replied feisty, "pretty” rolling off his tongue like an insult. Then he broke into hoarse maniac laugher and lowered his head so his face leveled up with yours, so close you could feel his warm breath on your tear - stained cheek. “When I am done with you, you wouldn’t be so pretty anymore, darling.” Your captor growled and attacked your neck, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh. “You will see exaclty how ugly my love is.”

#yandere #yandere oneshot #male yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #yancore #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere smut #yandere x you

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waitimcomingtoo · 3 years

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In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter four rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peter’s greatest love and Spiderman’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

After eating dessert and saying goodbye to May, Peter walked you to your room like a proper gentleman.

“You really don’t have to walk me home. I live right across that hall.” You teased him as you leaned against your door. You were glad he did, though. You wanted to spend every minute you could with him.

“I know, but I wanted to make sure you got in okay.” Peter said shyly. “You never know what dangers can be lurking in a hallway. Henry could’ve been around here and you and your feet would’ve been defenseless. You think I could live with myself if something happened to you?”

You laughed loudly and took your time unlocking your door, partially to extend your time together and partially to hide your massive blush.

“Thanks for dinner, Parker. I had a good time.” You said slowly as you fixed his collar.

“I had a moderately alright time.” He said nonchalantly. You laughed at his joke and shoved him a little.

“Fine. I had an amazing time.” He answered honestly. “We should do this again.”

The hope in his eyes knocked you out.

“Definitely.” You agreed. “But at my place next time.”

“Deal.” He stood there for a moment, just staring at you. You stared back, seeing the pale freckles on his nose and around his eyes. The longer you look at Peter, the better he got.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Peter said finally. You sighed softly and looked him over.

Parting really is such sweet sorrow.

“Goodnight Peter.” You answered. You gave each other one more giggly smile before you closed the door, completely missing the victory dance Peter did in the hallway.

“Alright. You ate. Now it’s our turn. Let’s go eat some assholes.” Venom cheered once you were alone.

“You couldn’t have phrased that in a worse way.” You grimaced as you set your keys down.

“I mean, let’s go eat some men who are assholes.” Venom corrected herself.

“Alright alright. Let’s go.” You walked to the window. “But, they have to be a total asshole. We can’t just eat a dick.”

“And you think what we said was bad? Listen to yourself.” Venom retorted.

“I heard it. I meant we have to eat someone who is really, really bad. Not just some random jerk.” You defended.

“Whatever. Let’s go. Your liver is starting to look really, really juicy.” Venom warned. With that, you climbed out the window and prowled the streets of New York.

It wasn’t long before you found a man harassing a woman near a local bar. They were both tipsy, but she seemed drunker than he was. He kept putting his hands on her, despite her protests. Every time she tried to push him away, he’d only try harder.

“Come on baby.” He purred.

“Leave me alone. I don’t want you.” The woman slurred as she pushed him away.

“Yes you do. You wouldn’t have worn that tight dress if you didn’t.” The man said.

Ah yes, logic.

When she ignored his comment, he angrily pushed her against a wall and covered her mouth.

“Asshole?” Venom asked you.

“Asshole.” You confirmed. You and Venom did your usual tactic. You’d start off as you and kindly ask the gentleman to leave the lady alone. When all else fails, you became Venom and ate the bad guy.

You and Venom weren’t cold blooded killers. If a problem could be solved with words, you would do it that way. But there are a lot of bad men on the streets who don’t take no for an answer.

And you catch bad men.

You tore the man away from the lady and she ran away screaming when she saw you as Venom. Most people do. At least she was safe. The man on the other hand suddenly lost his tough guy stamina and resulted to begging for his life.

“Should we eat them?” Venom asked you, loud enough for the man to hear. You did that little thing when half your face was Venom and half your face was you.

People get a real kick out of it.

“No.” You cooed. “They probably taste terrible.”

The man cowered away, begging you to leave.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again.” He pleaded.

“I never much liked the taste of perverts.” Venom snarled.

“Me either. Plus, he’s so puny. He’s probably disgusting.” You agreed.

You were dragging the man along. He was definitely getting eaten, no doubt about it. At least, there was no doubt, up until you heard the sound of feet landing on the pavement behind you.

“Hey, big guy, didn’t anyone ever tell you that people are friends, not food?” A young, muffled voice sounded. Spider-Mans eyes grew comically wide when Venom turned around.

“What are you?” He gasped. You could hear the terror in his voice. Under his mask, he was probably trembling. He sounded so young and terrified.

“We…are venom.” You answered as you snarled at him.

Never gets old.

“Hi Venom.” Spider-Man took a step back in fear, legs shaking slightly. “I’m Spiderman.”

The man took this as an opportunity to get up and run. You quickly ran after him, but you were suddenly covered in a sticky white substance. It wrapped around your legs and you fell to the ground. From the floor, you could see the man getting away.

“I can’t take credit for that. I got that from this really old movie, The Empire Strikes back. It works every time.” Spider-Man panted as he ran over to you.

You decided you had enough of this and easily broke out of the sticky stuff. You grabbed the unsuspecting Spider-Man by the throat and lifted him up by his neck. You could hear the sounds of him choking through his mask, and looses your grip. You weren’t a monster, but you weren’t a superhero either. Spiderman had let a bad guy get away and you could only hope you scared him enough not to do it again.

“You let him go.” You growled as you got in his face. Spider-Man hit the hand around his throat in an attempt to break free, making Venom smile. His feet were dangling off the ground. He was defenseless.

“You can’t eat people.” He choked out, gasping for air.

“We can and we will.” Venom growled. “Since you let our dinner get away, looks like you’ll have to take his place. We hope you taste better than you look, Spiderman.”

“Please don’t eat me. I’m just a kid.” Spider-Man begged. Venom tried to keep going, but you pulled back.

“Venom, put him down. We can find someone else. We can’t eat this guy. He’s too young.” You said calmly and prayed Venom would listen. Spider-Man was right. He was just a kid. He had pissed you off, but that didn’t mean he had to die.

“We don’t want anyone else. We want him”. Venom answered. Spider-Man looked confused, seeing as he could only hear Venoms part of the conversation.

“Put him down. His suit probably tastes terrible anyway. Let’s go find someone else. How about we go find a smoker to eat? You know how much you love to eat smokers.” You argued as you felt her grip loosen.

“They taste like barbecue.” Venom replied, feeling her mouth watering.

“Let’s go.” You insisted. “He’s not worth it.”

“Fine.” Venom grouched and threw Spider-Man against a wall. Spider-Man began to cough and clutch his throat. Venom stormed over to him and grabbed his head, making him look at you.

“If you ever bother us again, we are going to eat both of your arms, then both of your legs, and then we are going to eat your face. Do you understand?”

“We?” was all Spider-Man could get out.

“We.” Venom repeated. “Me and my girl. She saved your life tonight. Don’t except it to happen again. Next time, you’re dead.” Venom warned. With that, you ran away into the night, leaving Spider-Man behind.

After eating a man you saw steal money out of multiple homeless peoples cups, you climbed up the apartment building and sat on the ledge of the roof. You transformed back into yourself and watched as the sun made its way up the horizon.

“What are you doing up here?” You heard a familiar Queens accent from behind you. You smiled immediately and turned around.

“Are you stalking me Parker?” You teased as a bashful smile broke across his face. He looked ethereal in the early morning sunshine so you bit your tongue to keep from giggling.

He was too damn cute.

“You’ve got it the wrong way around. I lived here first. This had been my spot for years now. You’re the one stalking me.” Peter remarked. His voice sounded horse, like he had strained it. He moved slowly, almost as if he was in pain, as he swung his legs over the ledge and took a seat next to you. Your thighs just barely touched, but enough to send sparks though your body.

“Is this really your spot? I’ll leave if you want.” You offered, but Peter put his hand on your shoulder to keep you from getting up.

“It’s our spot now.” He said matter of factly. The sun light up his profile and you could see how tired his eyes were. You wondered what late night adventures kept Peter Parker awake. Peter stared out into the New York City skyline and sighed with content. A gentle breeze blew his brown locks and ruffled your clothing.

Everything was quiet. Everything was good.

“Are you an orphan?” You blurted before smacking your hand over your mouth.

You almost jumped off the roof right there. And you probably should’ve. No, actually, Peter should’ve pushed you off. It’s what you deserved. Who the HELL asks someone you just met that question? Who asks that question at all? Does anyone even use the term “orphan” anymore? Is this Annie? All these questions swarmed through your head as your cheeks managed to burn the brightest shade of red they ever had. Peter snapped his head to you and tried to say something but you cut him off.

“I only ask because…well, I am.” You admitted. “An orphan, I mean. And I saw the pictures in your apartment with the candle and you kinda have that…orphan look to you. No offense! It’s not a bad thing either. I probably have the same look. Plus, you live with your aunt and I didn’t see anyone else come home. Of course, maybe they just weren’t home the one night I was over. Not that it’s any of my business anyway. I’m sorry I asked. It was a dumb, dumb question and I’m a dumb, dumb person and I-“

Your excessive rambling was cut off by a soft chuckles on Peters part. You looked at him confused as it wasn’t the response you expected.

“You’re not dumb. You took down Carlton Drake at 19 years old with no help. I wouldn’t call that person dumb. I’d call her brave, smart, even heroic.” Peter complimented you. “And all the best heroes are orphans. So to answer your question…there was a question in there somewhere right? I think so. Yes, I am an orphan. I live with my Aunt May. I used to live with my Uncle Ben too but he passed away.”

“Your uncle was Ben Parker.” You realized. “I should’ve known. May mentioned his name at dinner. I remember hearing about the shooting. All my friends and I created a club in school to protest the lack of gun regulation in America after that. I’m so sorry, Peter.”

“I really appreciate you doing that. I’m really upset over the lack of gun regulation too.” He was quiet for a moment. “My Uncle Ben used to write too. He was always trying to get me to write for the school newspaper. It wasn’t my thing though. I prefer taking pictures and videos. You’re a really good writer, Y/N. My Uncle Ben would’ve loved you.” Peter said earnestly. You smiled at Peter and scooted closer to him.

“Thank you for saying that. I bet I would’ve loved him too.” You told him. Peter looked down at his hands which were dangerously close to yours. You weren’t bold enough to hold his hand, though you desperately wanted to. Instead, you put your head on his shoulder and looked out at the sunrise. It was a simple, innocent gesture. You were both awkward and knew it. It was the safest thing you could do without something going terribly wrong. Peter rested his head on top of yours and sighed.

“I didn’t know you were an orphan.” He said softly, not wanting to disturb the peace. You nodded, still nestled in his neck.

“My mom died a few minutes after giving birth to me.” You opened up to him, something you hadn’t done with anyone before. “I’m not sure what went wrong but they had to do an emergency C-section. I survived, but she didn’t.”

You got quiet for a moment.

“She never even got to hold me.”

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Peter whispered. He gingerly laced his fingers with yours. You watched as he did it and didn’t try to stop him.

“It’s weird.” You shrugged. “I never knew her, but I miss her everyday. I wish we could’ve had a conversation. Just one would be enough.” Your mom wasn’t something you often talked about. It was too painful to relive the past so you hadn’t even told Andy the full story.

But you felt safe with Peter.

“You don’t have to have known her to miss her.” Peter insisted. “I bet she misses you too and she never met you either.”

“What were your parents names?” You changed the topic as you rubbed his hand softly with your thumb.

“Richard And Mary. Richard and Mary Parker.” He answered proudly. “I write them letters all the time. I put them in an envelope and everything. Then I put them in a box in my closet. I like to think the read them.”

“I bet they do.” You told him while squeezing his hand gently. In that moment, you could’ve sworn he was yours. Like you were an actual couple that had been through hell and back together. Like you’d know him all my life. Peter looked you in the eyes and for the first time, someone really saw you.

The real you, and he didn’t turn away. His brown eyes stared right down into your soul. You felt insecure suddenly, your soul wasn’t a pretty place to see. Certainly not pretty enough for Peter Parker. But Peter didn’t seem to mind.

You got this feeling all the sudden, this feeling that told you you and Peter were meant to meet. That you were always meant to be in each other’s lives. To protect and love each other, like real people do. Peter didn’t feel like a stranger. He wasn’t someone you met on accident. You were destined to be. Just be. No matter what you were. This rooftop didn’t feel like a place you’d never been before. This rooftop felt like home. And Peter made it feel that way. Or maybe it wasn’t the rooftop that felt like home, it was just Peter. Your cheeks burned up when you realized what was happening. Your heart fluttered and your lungs felt like they were in fire.

You knew it. Every fiber of your being knew it. All your senses came alive at once and in that moment, on that rooftop, your heart looked into Peters and said those two words,

“Welcome home”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x venom!reader #venom!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #iron man #tom holland fanfiction

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jediknightobiwan · 3 years

Note

Boba smut, you say?

Could I get some dad bod Boba love post-Mandalorian season 2, if you've finished the new episode? Because our man definitely deserves some love after that shit. I personally headcannon him as being dominant AF, with lots of pet names, and a tendency to be a little rougher. Maybe some post-battle fucking to wind down in Slave I.

Thanks!

OFC We love Dad Bods here I will NOT tolerate Temura hate like at all. We don’t expect women to stay the same all their lives and we shouldn’t expect the same of men.

In talks with @emilykjh we decided that Boba decidedly, is a brat tamer so I’m definitely going along the dominant caregiver route with him.

Also tbh and probably shockingly I haven’t watched the new season all the way through AT ALL it was emotionally too much for me when it started so now I can binge it whenever 😅 I just learn things through gifs cause I don’t mind spoilers! So things may be very Vague when it comes to plot or I’ll just go with what I’ve gathered happens after the last episode. But let’s do some Older Boba stuff yes, everyone who understood the significance of Boba’s appearance better say thank you Mr. Temuera for your service.

Boba Fett x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Caregiver/Little BDSM relationship, Daddy Kink, Age Gap (cmon he’s in his 50’s), slight drool kink, slight degradation, slight choking

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

[[READ MORE]]

Your ears perk up at the sound of heavy bootsteps on their way and you quickly rush to clean up your little area. Ever since Boba had taken his throne and conquered most of the underworld you and him and Fennec who you adored had made a nice little home for yourselves. What Boba teasingly called your nest was a corner of his throne room that you (and Fennec) had padded and stuffed with pillows, blankets, stuffed animals, one very long and squishy pillow and a very very large cushion you called your tuffet. It was cute little safe space you sat, read and napped in when you wanted a little alone time.

It was usually a kind of organized chaos but lately you had let it get a bit wild and before Boba had left earlier he’d told you to have it cleaned up by the time he was back, and like a true Little who usually forgot orders once they were given and wasn’t reminded you had become distracted with other things. Which is why now you were slightly sweating under your soft robe as you scrambled to set everything in its proper place so he would never know you’d-

The steps had stopped echoing. You suddenly realized besides the slick of fabric between your fingers and your little pants that the room had actually been quiet for a minute or so. You swallowed a little hard but continued your work, spreading out soft blanket on your tuffet and then tucking it underneath. Finally, you smoothed your front and turned with a smile ready for your lover.

“Daddy! You’re home! See I uhm..I did my one chore today!” You were beaming, a little sweat on your brow and your voice was sweet and welcoming. In return Boba tilted his helmeted head at you in such a way that you knew what was he was saying without him needing to voice it.

Really? Did you? Is what that look said and you fidgeted slightly, lower lip jutting out every so softly.

Well-it still counts! Doesn’t it?? Your look said and after another moment of silence you hear a sigh come from him and he finally comes toward you with a gloved hand extended to cup your face.

“I suppose I’ll let it slide today,” he says, thumb gliding over your lower lip as his eyes bore into you from behind the visor. “I’m too tired to properly punish you for waiting until the last second anyway.”

The words were slightly worrying but if something was really wrong he would’ve told you, so you brushed it off and kissed his thumb gently.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you promise, reaching to cup his helmet in your hands and then bringing your foreheads together in a keldabe kiss. He hums deep in his throat, his way of saying that you’d better.

“What can I do tonight? A hot bath? A massage?” You gasped and jumped a little, grinning. “Both??”

Boba chuckles and removes his helmet, the smile still on his handsome scarred face. “How about just a massage pet? My old muscles could use it.”

“Ah you’re not old cyare.”

You giggle at his eyebrow raise and pat his cheeks then push gently on his chest plate to back him into the hallway and towards his bedroom. Once inside the large yet fairly bare room you begin the slow and intimate process of removing his armor for him. It was something you’d been doing for awhile now, ever since you’d settled into your roles. He did so much...it was one sweet thing you could do for him back.

The tension was practically melting out of your love’s shoulders as the beskar came off. Your arms had long since adjusted to the armor’s weight over the months of this sweet ritual and the warmth of Boba’s soft eyes as he watched you easily carry his prized possessions never failed to make you feel like the most important person in the galaxy. Your skin felt fully flushed by the time he was sitting on the bed and you’d removed his boots for him.

“My sweet little Dove...,” Boba murmurs, reaching out his now ungloved hands for your hips and bringing you closer, his face now level with your chest. You smile he nuzzles against your soft skin and hum happily, arms sliding into position around his broad shoulders without a second thought.

Dove. How you loved your pet name from him. You were his sweet thing, his Little, his pure (he insisted you were pure compared to him and you’d given up trying to convince him otherwise) darling treasure. Your soft lips pressed kisses to his head and you murmured, “My Daddy...,” to which you could feel his smile against your skin just stoking flames inside you.

You remained entertwined for awhile longer, both just caressing each other sweetly and basking in the loving bubble you created each time you were together. And then you remembered what you were supposed to be doing and gasped, pulling away to look down at Boba.

“Your massage!”

Boba blinks at you in confusion for a second and then laughs, keeping a tight grip on your hips even as you go to pull away and get the oil. He gently grips your chin -effectively stopping your struggling-and brings your lips to his. You sigh softly into the kiss and simply melt like wax beneath a flame into his arms-apt considering it immediately stoked the soft fire that had begun to burn in your belly the moment you saw him into a good sized blaze.

A whine escapes your lips even as Boba depeens the kiss and pulls you onto his lap fully with your crotches rubbing together sinfully.

“Don’t laugh at me Daddy,” you whine, kissing his broad nose and then going back to his mouth. Your arms slide down around his waist and you squeeze, taking petty pleasure in the way his breath escapes him when you do. “It’s mean!”

Your Caregiver seems to, funnily enough, care, very little about your plight since as you whine he just hums and runs his big hands down to your ass and squeezes none too gently. He grins devilishly as you jump and kisses you again, lingering longer this time and swiping his tongue over your lips before he pulls away.

“So what if it is? You like it when I’m mean Dove baby...you know you can’t lie to me.” Boba jerks you closer to him and ruts his hips upwards against you, causing you to whine loudly as want shoots through your core painfully.

“Yeah baby that’s what I thought....you like it when I’m mean. Big bad mean Daddy...ain’t that right?” The older man swats at your ass when you don’t answer, your brain becoming mushy already from the feel of his body beneath your hands and his impressive cock only growing harder and longer against the apex of your thighs. “I asked you a direct question little Dove. You know I don’t like it when you don’t answer.”

After shaking your head to clear it just a little and your hands balling up his undershirt to hang on for dear life you manage a nod with your mouth open just a tad, unnoticed by you but very noticed by your lover. His eyes drop to your lips and he growls slightly, strong hands kneading at the soft flesh of your ass before he delivers two hard, stinging pops to your backside.

“Speak, cyar’ika, speak when Daddy tells you to.”

Maker you are just gone for him. You swallow the water that had gathered in your mouth at the rough handling and say clearly, full of need that that’s right, Daddy is a big bad man...your big bad man...and you even elaborate on how you love him so for it. Wetting your lips you rock against him as he basks in your obedience and drinking in his soft moan like wine, your lips rubbing against his.

“Let me massage you Daddy...I said I would...cmon. Please? Let me help?” The groan Boba emits tells you that he’s thinking of something else now, something with him on top but before he can open his mouth to give an order your bratty, slightly manipulative side comes out and you use your saccharine please Daddy do this for me or I’ll be oh so sad voice to plead to him.

“Oh please Daddy? Let me make you feel better. You said yourself you’re tired! You need a rest, just a brief one and then...” You untie your robe and let it fall, your whole body bare to him now, causing the erection between you to pulse. Your fingertips graze his throat as you tilt his face up towards yours and bite his lower lip teasingly. “You can massage my insides with that big cock of yours~ How’s that sound?”

Judging by the growl in his throat and chest- Boba likes the idea very much, and you have to fight to keep the smirk off your face. Drawing on some confidence just to tease him more you get off his lap and order him to strip and lay on the soft king sized bed the two of you shared. You could see his brown eyes narrow, debating on whether or not to just grab you and throw you on the bed and mount you like a fucking animal, but when he stood something popped in his shoulder audibly...and he stripped without a word.

The control you had over your face slipped and your grin shined out in full force as your older boyfriend complied to your demands. Really he was just a big softy with as much love to give as he had muscles and cute love handles. While he disrobed you found the bottle of massage oil he’d brought you back from one of his excursions that had multiple uses when came to making things easier, and fluffed the pillow in the middle of the bed that he always used. Your bed was so nice and so soft with lots of room for the two of you and yet Boba always slept in the middle, arms right around you and you near the edge facing the bathroom.

But you didn’t mind, you thought as you watched him lay down on his stomach with his head cradled by the now fluffy pillow and his tan body stretched out of the dark sheets. However he wanted to sleep-even if he sometimes squeezed too hard during a dream-was fine with you, as long as you were together.

‘Not gonna stand around all afternoon lookin’ at my ass are you?” You blinked and focused on Boba who was now smirking at you.

“Pbbbbt,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “No of course not! But if I was, who could blame me? It is a wonderful sight.” You climbed onto the bed as he chuckled. Knowing it would be uncomfortable for him and his still hard cock if you sat on his hips, you opted to sit more on his juicy ass instead. He hummed at the weight of you and relaxed into the pillow.

“Well if you think so it must be true,” he mumbles, “you are almost always right little Dove.”

“I am always right,” you corrected, dribbling the ever warm oil onto his broad back. He purred, and you knew it was because of the oil, but you liked to think it was because of you so you smirked. “That’s what I thought~”

You went to work then on his sore muscles, flexing your own to work the knots out with your skilled hands. Boba let his noises out freely as you worked; grunting, groaning, moaning and even at times whimpering with your palms smoothing over every inch of him you could reach.

The sun had sunk a bit by the time you were done and Boba rolled onto his back so you could finally straddle his hips. The evidence of your arousal from massaging him and his cute little noises was pressed against his balls. Your hands were on his chest and he was smoothing his own up your back slowly, sending shivers up your spine.

“My Dove...,” Boba starts on a soft sigh, his hands pulling down now to your hips to begin a gentle rocking. His cock was hardening again between the two of you and your own arousal was growing each second. “You love such a man like me? Old, a bit chubby, scarred?”

A soft sigh escaped you at the rocking, finally just a little bit of the release you had been craving since his return. You looked deeply, lovingly into Boba’s beautiful eyes. To you he was the most beautiful man in the galaxy, no matter how much he complained about his aching joints or how he was too old for you.

“Oh silly Daddy...” You sighed, taking the bottle of oil one more time and drizzling just a little on his perfect cock before taking it in your hand. His eyes darken as he watches you tilt your hips and line thick head of him up with your hole, his large hands gripping your hips tightly with anticipation. Taking the head of his cock you slap it against your hole before popping it inside and sinking down so slowly you knew his hands were going to leave bruises from gripping you so tight.

Once he was fully seated inside you you rotated your hips and opened your eyes just enough to give him a heady look. “As if I was destined for anyone else...”

You managed a wink before succumbing fully to your want for your lover, the fire he’d been stoking now turning into a raging storm with his thickness stretching you out perfectly. You both reached for each other at the same time and your mouths collided hotly as you bounced on him at an already quick pace. No time to adjust fully, fuck, Maker it just felt so good to be impaled on him again that you were frantic and starving for it. Teeth clashed, fingernails marks were definitely being left in sensitive areas and after just a minute or so you pulled away from the messy kissing to angle yourself better and slam onto Boba.

Your head was thrown back beautifully as you screamed your devotion to him, to his perfect fucking cock that was literally making you drool even while you were split open by it. Boba growled seeing the slick moisture on your lips and he sat up, yanking you close with a strong hand on the back of your neck. His hips met a bounce of yours and you cried out-only to have the noise muffled by a big thumb in your mouth. His other arm was right around you waist, keeping you on him but unmoving.

“That’s my sweet baby...suck on Daddy’s thumb...yeah just like that-fuck.” Even cockdrunk you knew how to work your lover up, sucking on his thumb dutifully and as enthusiastically as you did your favorite appendage of his. You even took his one hand in both your smaller ones to bring the digit further inside and you could swear Boba pulsed so hard inside you you thought he’d finished for a second.

He pushed down on your tongue hard and dragged your jaw with him, and much to your initial chagrin and then immediate arousal, let a long stream of drool pool out and fall where you were connected with him. You moaned at the filth of it and at the complete submissive state you were in. Literally, you were in the palm of Boba Fett’s hand.

Boba groaned and smirked at you, looking at the wet spot and then back at you. “Such a good pet aren’t you? I love it when you get me soaked little one~”

Maker you felt like exploding right then! But he wasn’t done with you, oh no. He pulled his thumb from your obscenely wet mouth, sucked your salvia from it and then rolled, pulling out of you with a wet echoing sound. He easily manhandled you with your hips popped up and grabbed your pillow to bury your face in. He slid back home with no resistance and you moaned freely, your eyes rolling back and your lower lip getting caught between your teeth.

“Mmmmm my sweet little pet...such a good slut for me aren’t you? Always so needy...so ready for Daddy to come home and take care of you...” As he spoke he’d started thrusting into you, gaining in speed. “Fuck...baby, I love you so fucking much, so, fucking, much!”

Now he was straight pummeling you. Your voice was going to be nonexistent when he was through with you if this kept up, your nails digging into your pillow so hard your knuckles were white and you could do nothing but spread your legs wider for him like the slut he’d called you. You were Boba Fett’s personal slut, his little Dove and his soulmate-nothing in the galaxy could be better than this.

As he neared his end he made sure to drag the fat head of his cock along those special spots inside you he knew so well while his mouth bit and sucked on the external spots until your toes curled so tightly he joked that they may never uncurl, the smug bastard. His lips found your neck again in a sweet spot as he bent over you, slamming so deep inside you could taste his precum on your tongue.

“Cum for me baby,” he murmurs, callused thumbs flicking over your nipples before one palm encloses over your throat and squeezes the sides deliciously. “Cum for Daddy little one.”

It was no question, no suggestion, it was a demand. And like the good Little you could be when you wanted, you obeyed. One last scream was ripped from your throat as you were pushed off that ledge into white hot pleasure so perfect it enveloped your whole body. Boba held you as you became tense and then limp, his own release coming not far after yours (not surprising given how hard your insides had been squeezing him) and as always overfilling you in a way you could only describe as obscenely delicious.

“Good job little Dove. I’m so proud.” Came a voice from above and behind you. You knew it was Boba, you knew yet somehow a little voice in your head thought it was the Maker talking to you. Your lips quirked in a little smile as exhausted gasps left your now limp body, only held up by Boba’s hands and his cock that was still pumping cum into you. You felt lips along your neck so lovingly and you sighed contentedly.

“I love you...” you whispered, beginning to fall asleep with him still cradled inside you.

He chuckled softly and kissed the tip of your ear, rubbing your back soothingly before very slowly sliding out of you.

“I love you too baby...go to sleep. I’ve got you.”

It would be hours before you woke, cleaned up and tightly nestled into Boba’s arms as always with the two of you so close it was like you had been born that way. And when you did you squeezed his middle tightly enough for him to softly grunt and then settled back with him, feeling for all the galaxy like you were the luckiest person alive because no one could love you like Boba Fett. And you couldn’t imagine loving anyone else.

@emilykjh @sailorsquadgoals @penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories @ohdeargodnotyouagain @ihaveashield @ezraslittlebirdie @labyrinth-runner @asaucecoveredsomething @thisainttheway @anakinswhore @sleepwithacommunist

#boba fett #boba fett fanfiction #boba Fett x you #boba fett x reader #gender neutral reader #Star Wars #star wars fanfic #my fanfic

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stiltonbasket · 4 years

Note

Post-canon wangxian arranged marriage au: I just wanna see one or the other of them sip a lil vinegar. Although it would be most satisfying if it were WWX, who makes a deliberate show of being Hanguang-Jun's husband and then maybe has a little bit of a 'wtf was I doing' moment later when the self-awareness sets in.

(brief author’s note: please reblog, since that’s how we get prompts for future ficlets!)

Wei Wuxian is not jealous.

Being jealous of the pretty, doe-eyed girl from Zhoushang Zhang flirting with Lan Zhan would make no sense, since as Lan Zhan’s best friend, Wei Wuxian ought to be delighted by the prospect of his zhiji falling in love with an eligible maiden.

The fact that the aforementioned zhiji is his husband does not matter at all.

They are friends first and foremost, and two men, besides; and Wei Wuxian has always known that an honorable marriage between cultivators was for lasting companionship and love, begetting and bearing children, and dual cultivation to improve the strength and stability of the couple’s spiritual energy. The marriage between him and Lan Zhan is nothing but a marriage of convenience, one doomed to remain barren forever, and Wei Wuxian can’t cultivate, either--so how could he be jealous, when every word Zhang-xiaojie says to Lan Zhan is a step closer to his husband’s eternal bliss?

Wei Wuxian can’t be jealous, of course. And he isn’t, not in the slightest, which was why he took Xiao-Yu and withdrew into the nearest corner when Zhang-zongzhu’s daughters trapped Lan Zhan in their midst and started flirting with him. Remaining close by would only make the lady guests believe that Lan Zhan is happily married: which he is, for the moment, but only because he doesn’t know any better.

I’m happily married, though, something small and hurt seems to whisper in the back of Wei Wuxian’s mind, as he and A-Yu make a hasty escape from the gaudy feasting hall and begin looking for somewhere quiet to sit. I’m happy, being married to Lan Zhan.

Happy in a marriage Lan Zhan was forced to accept for the crime of being your sworn zhiji? Just because he calls you “niang zi,” and kisses you whenever you try to resist him? You’re pathetic.

He wants to call me his niang zi, the voice echoes back, so wistfully that Wei Wuxian’s heart nearly breaks in half on the spot. Lan Zhan, my husband, I--

“A-Niang!” Xiao-Yu cries, jerking him out of his one-sided conversation as the two of them go crashing to the floor--because Wei Wuxian, distracted by the mere thought of Lan Zhan calling him his wife, missed the single step between the feasting hall and the adjoining resting chamber and fell over it with A-Yu in his arms.

“Ouch,” he hisses, after looking over Xiao-Yu’s fluffy head to make sure his son was unhurt. Xiao-Yu is still whimpering into his sleeve, clinging to Wei Wuxian like a baby monkey as Wei Wuxian reaches down to inspect his own black-clad ankle--an ankle that proves to be badly sprained, already red and hot to the touch by the time Wei Wuxian manages to yank his boots and stockings off.

Xiao-Yu takes one look at the ankle and cries harder than ever. “Hurt, A-Niang? Hurt?”

“No, sweetheart,” Wei Wuxian soothes him, unwrapping one of the lengths of black cloth around his wrist to serve as a makeshift bandage. “A-Niang is all right, Yu’er. Don’t cry!”

“A-Niang is hurt!” the baby wails, scrambling to his feet. “A-Yu will help!”

And then, before Wei Wuxian can even reach out to grab him, A-Yu toddles away to the feasting hall as fast as his two-year-old legs can carry him, vanishing from sight around the corner and--

“A-Die!” he hears Xiao-Yu wail, as the chatter in the next room fades into deathly silence instead. “A-Die, A-Niang is hurt!”

And then--

And then Wei Wuxian can see nothing but a cloud of white silk, and smell nothing but sandalwood, and feel nothing but his husband’s heart beating twice as fast as usual as he carries Wei Wuxian and Xiao-Yu away towards their guest quarters, summoning two servants to bring hot water and calling over his shoulder for a healer before Wei Wuxian has the time to comprehend what just happened.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, you...you should stay in the banquet hall,” he offers feebly, trying not to melt in his husband’s arms when Lan Zhan kicks the door to their bedroom open and lays him down on a lounging chair. “It’s only a sprain, and I can look after myself! Wen Qing taught me how to bandage sprains when we were at the Burial Mounds, so I’ll be fine.”

“You will tend nothing yourself,” Lan Zhan says sternly. “I am your husband. It is my--”

“--Lan Zhan, you do so much out of duty because we’re married, so save this one some face and--”

“Wei Ying. It is my privilege.”

The fight goes out of Wei Wuxian’s body in one long, astonished gasp, followed by a dying sort of moan as Lan Zhan bows his head and kisses the hurt ankle thrice in a row, pressing spiritual energy into the joint with his lips to lessen the pain a little. “Lan Zhan!”

“We are married,” his husband insists. “Wei Ying, does this displease you?”

“D-does what displease me?”

“This. My kisses, my touch. My presence in your bed at night. My affection for you.”

“No--no, Lan Zhan, how could you even think such a thing? Anyone would be lucky to have you spare them a glance, let alone--let alone all that you do for me, I--”

“I am your husband,” Lan Zhan says again. “It is right and proper and good for me to do all these things.”

“But...but, we’re not really...”

“Niang zi,” his husband interrupts, “my sweet Wei Ying, my zhiji--listen to this xiang-gong, and let him tend you.”

And really, what was Wei Wuxian supposed to do after that?

Refuse?

Never.

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #wangxian arranged marriage au #renouncement verse #my fic

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catharsis-in-a-bottle · 3 years

Text

AHSDHFHHJKKHD

THE QUEEN’S GAMBIT. WAS SO FUCKING GOOD.

[spoilers below if you haven’t seen it and you want to]

Here are some of my (not in any particular order) bullet points. This is gonna be long as hell because, you know, brain dumps amiright

First off, Anya Taylor-Joy’s acting. Is just incredible. In particular moments, you can tell what she’s thinking with a simple hand gesture or with the tiniest raise of an eyebrow. She develops Beth’s signature facial expressions and movements throughout the show, and you just feel like you know her. And during her chess matches, sometimes it feels like she’s staring into your soul. Especially when she gives that badass chin-on-the-hands look and she knows she’s going to win. Powerful energy.

Secondly, I fucking knew I recognized Harry Beltik from somewhere else but my mom didn’t BELIEVE me and then I looked up the actor and he’s DUDLEY DURSLEY, I WAS RIGHT MOTHER, I WAS RIGHT

I love love love how they didn’t make, like, a major romantic plotline. Beth doesn’t end up with a partner - she ends with a bunch of super supportive friends that have her back by the time she gets to Moscow, and like, she has a crush on Townes but they end up being just like super good and healthy friends and I love it?? So much?? Thank you producers

Townes. Just, in general. I really like his character, he’s super nice and his voice is oddly soothing

BORGOV. I LOVE BORGOV. HE IS SO GODDAMN RESPECTFUL. Like, he seemed like a very cold character at first - well-mannered and extremely professional, yes, but rather cold. But when she wins in Moscow? “It is your game. Take it.” I LOVE THAT SO MUCH. AND HE HUGS HER AND STARTS CLAPPING AND THE AMOUNT OF RESPECT AND ADMIRATION AND AFFECTION IN THAT SCENE IS INCREDIBLE. And you don’t see any of that in Borgov’s face when he’s playing. His facial expressions do not change at all. But then his face when she wins!! He’s HAPPY! He’s like, goddamn, I’ve spent my whole life mastering chess, it’s about time somebody fucking beat me! I know I’m repeating myself but just his RESPECT I absolutely adore it

And Beth’s officer-watcher-person in Moscow was all like “ahhh be wary of the Russians! communism!!” but they absolutely did not make this yet another evil Russian show, like please that trope works for plots but it’s about time somebody did something different - they showed the US government as suspicious of the Soviets but then they showed the solidarity between the chess players that Benny talked about earlier (”The Russians work together, Americans work alone” or something like that), and then they showed the kind and excitable people on the streets, and the amount of support they would have had no matter WHO won that goddamn match. The old man she plays at the end. Everyone is a community.

Continuing that - I cannot for the life of me remember the name of the old man with the very puffy white hair, but I loved him too. He sees Beth as the rising star she is, and he respects her. He admires her. The dynamic there is absolutely immaculate, contrary to the dynamic between Beth and the man she beats earlier, the one who walks off and doesn’t even talk to her. We don’t like that man - we like the ones who admit defeat and respect Beth!! I love them!! They are extremely professional, and they show the warm-heartedness that often doesn’t show with all of the cold stares and glares that pass between players during matches.

Joline. I’m so glad she came back. I love her. She’s extremely independent but she comes back for Beth because Beth needs her but she’s also like “I’m not your savior! Get your shit together!” which is fucking awesome. And the fact that the two of them interacted like the best of friends even after years of separation was really sweet to me.

I nearly cried when Beth went back into the school. (I say ‘nearly’ because there were other people in the room and naturally I can’t do that in front of other people. If I was utterly alone, maybe on my own planet, I would have.) Because of all of it. Because of her trauma, because that’s where all the shit began... and the music during that scene. It was hauntingly beautiful, especially when the melody began switching to cello. And then Beth saw all the pictures and newspaper clips that Mr. Shaibel had saved, because he cared about her so much, because he started it all - he’s the reason she’s going to national tournaments, to Paris, to Moscow. And in that scene, we know he’s too old to be alive anymore, and she does too. The whole school scene in general just feels so ghostly and ethereal.

I love Borgov, did I say that already? I just... strive to exude his energy. I want to be good at things but I want to hold deep, genuine respect and admiration for others who are also good at the thing, because sometimes I just have the biggest fucking ego and I can get carried away. ‘Borgov, Borgov, Borgov.’ A mantra. He wins respectfully and he loses respectfully.

BETH’S MOTHER (the second one) JUST FUCKING DIED OUT OF NOWHERE?? AND I WAS SO SHOCKED? Which is really an accurate reflection of reality because death often comes out of nowhere, but DAMN I was not expecting that shit

And the fact that the mother just,,,, let her chug a beer,,,, oof

THE ADDICTION. BETH’S DOWNWARD SPIRAL. IT MADE ME FEEL SO HORRIBLE BUT IT FELT SO REAL. Everything about her progression through addiction was just... I can’t find an adjective. But when she just fucking inhaled that bucket of pills as a kid and then collapsed. When that addiction lasted into her adulthood - it’s really impactful and horrible and just so real. She needed proper care throughout this entire goddamn show and she never got medical care, she just got supportive friends - which, btw, that’s one thing that kind of threw me off. Like, she didn’t have withdrawal in Moscow, she went from chugging like four bottles of wine a day to... not drinking at all?? Without withdrawal symptoms?? And I’m proud of her for throwing away those pills but honestly it felt really fast, idk

GIVING CHILDREN TRANQUILIZERS WAS AN ACTUAL THING THAT HAPPENED. I DID NOT PREVIOUSLY KNOW THIS. BUT LEGITIMATELY, IT HAPPENED. HOLY SHIT.

HARRY BELTIK. He was like, awkwardly in love with Beth and that shit didn’t work out but even afterwards he FUCKING CARED. He’d seen his father drink himself to death and he knew that would happen to Beth and he was scared. So he came back, he tried to help her, and at that point (when she had that fucking scary eye makeup, yeah that was rock bottom) she didn’t care much about the outside world anymore. She was angry, and she was closing herself in. It made my stomach clench in physical pain. Which is a good thing. But also not.

Harry Beltik in general just being so supportive and wanting to help her though, like yeah it was very awkward, but they were vibing

AND BENNY WATTS IS FUCKING GREAT. THAT WHOLE COWBOY LOOK, COWBOY CHESS PLAYER, NOW THAT’S AN AESTHETIC. He was concerned for Beth too. He wanted to help her. He wanted to create that American solidarity that he knew the Soviet competitors had, and ultimately he did when he and everyone else called her in Moscow. Benny is... chaotic good? Neutral? He is quite an interesting character, and Beth’s persistent social awkwardness fades away with him because he knows how to interact with her. He’s a dedicated and smart narcissist, and I’m here for it.

The fact that they made me love and hate Cleo at the same time, and also question Beth’s sexuality when she first met Cleo. Like, she’s from Paris. She considers ‘tomorrow night’ to be a very long time away. I love her mysteriousness. But also, she was the catalyst for Beth’s downward drinking spiral before the match in Paris, so like... I like Cleo’s personality, but not her choices in those previous moments.

The music. Did I mention the music? The soundtrack. The orchestrals. That one song that the mother plays on piano that I hear all the time and I still don’t actually know what it is PLEASE HELP. The music is melancholy in the right moments, upbeat in the right moments, intense and suspenseful in the right moments - and also absent in the right moments. There’s tacet. There’s silence. And it’s always been my firm belief that silence can hold just as much impact as sound.

Just an interesting note, my mom watched the whole show before me and then re-watched it with me, and when Mr. Shaibel showed up she quickly reassured me that he wasn’t a child molester, because quote “it may be a creepy basement but he’s just really nice” so... I was reassured

I love Mr. Shaibel, and Beth just kept sticking up for him in front of the press and,,, yeah

I hated that bitch from the high school, what was her name?... The one who showed up in the store with a child? It makes me think about the fact that so many kids are just jerks in high school simply because they can be... and occasionally their fuckery lasts into adulthood but oftentimes it doesn’t. You don’t have to be a jerk when you’re an adult, and you don’t have to be a jerk in high school! People remember, people always remember! So, to the bitch from the high school: fuck you for making Beth feel like an outsider and then trying to reverse gears and accept her, cuz Beth isn’t falling for that shit.

The twins, Matt and Mike. They’re so doubtful of Beth in the beginning but then bam, she’s competing nationally, and I adore how the three of them become friends. All those men playing chess in Kentucky in the beginning seem so condescending, but ultimately they show respect because Beth absolutely fucking deserves it.

I enjoy the fact that we never *really* know Beth’s age. It’s just like... she’s 9, she’s 15, she’s 17, she’s... twenty something? Who the hell knows? As many characters say, when it comes to skill level, age ultimately isn’t an important factor. This young woman beats the oldest man with the bushiest white hair in Moscow and age. Does not. Matter.

The Jesus people lmaooooo when Beth said “because it’s fucking nonsense” I just. Mad respect ma’am, don’t take their money, go be a communist and “sPrEaD tHe aThEiSt AgEnDa”

Wow I really just... wrote all that didn’t I damn wish I could write essays this fast at reasonable hours of the day

Beth’s relationship with her foster mother is so fucking sweet until she fucking dies

And fuck Beth’s legal father. He is an asshole. That is all.

The mother deserved Manuel, she deserved that sketchy Mexican salesman goddammit

As my final bullet point: This has made me want to play chess. This has made me want to get good at chess. You know that thing where you like, download the personality of the coolest character for like a day after you watch something... I don’t do that anymore (maybe), but I want to download those mad chess skills. This has made chess seem so cool. I want to wear a fancy suit and compete with people. I just have to, you know, actually develop some strategy and stop losing brutally against people online. I wAnT tO pLaY cHesS dO yOu HeAr mE

I’m going to stop now, but I just,,, peeps, I love this show. I’m absolutely going to require a re-watch in the future. I just love it. The characters and their development, their relationships with each other, the progression of time and of Beth’s maturity... it is simply incredible. This concludes my brain dump.

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ladykissingfish · 3 years

Text

Under the Mistletoe with the Akatsuki // Part Six // Hidan

Hidan

“Ah; you fucking lucky bastards! I should charge you all for this; to kiss an elite follower of the mighty Jashin is a privilege you assholes don’t deserve. Except you, Konan. In fact if you want to move the mistletoe to my bedroom then — ow! OW!! Kakuzu let go!! I was only kidding; can none of you take a fucking joke?!”

Konan

She sighs before she goes to him. He’s made a big deal all day about kissing her in particular, although she doesn’t get why. She feels nothing other than friendship for him, and, despite his ramblings, she doesn’t think he feels anything stronger either. Nevertheless, it’s her turn. She steps up to him and he reaches out and takes her small hands, giving them a surprisingly gentle squeeze. “You ready for this, gorgeous?” But something about that, about the word “gorgeous”, sets off the normally calm Konan. She yanks her hands out of his and plants them on her hips. “Gorgeous, beautiful, sexy — that’s literally all you ever say to me. I’m more than a pair of tits; I have a fucking brain in this head!” Hidan blinks, startled. “That’s - the first time I ever heard ya curse, Konan.” He grabs her hands again. He speaks in a soft voice and apologizes, and tells her that he has nothing but respect for her. “I only wanna kiss you so bad ‘cuz you’re beautiful INSIDE and out, and you bring lots of light to my shitty darkness.” She blushes and thanks him, and he takes the opportunity to lean in and kiss her lips. Just a soft touch, but both of them are smiling afterwards.

Deidara

Both of them are hesitant to do this, to say the least. Hidan won’t ever admit this, but he’s held a small physical attraction to Deidara since the day they met. Very small, and *purely* physical, but still. He doesn’t like thinking about it, because to do so would be him admitting to himself that his own sexuality isn’t as black and white as he’d thought it to be. He tells himself that if he likes Deidara at all, it’s simply because the guy looks ridiculously similar to a woman. Deidara doesn’t wish to kiss Hidan because, although HE will never admit to it, Hidan scares him. The man’s proven immortality throws a wrench into Deidara’s long-held ideals of what life (and art) are ultimately about: beauty made greater by virtue of being fleeting. But Hidan being able to live forever — could it be that Deidara’s partner Sasori has been right this whole time? That art really is eternal? Still, everyone is watching, so the two shake off their feelings, and Deidara approaches him. “Keep your tongue in your mouth, okay?” “Same goes for you, blondie.” Hidan gives himself very quick peck to the lips, but both men are blushing quite hard regardless. And even as brief as that was — Hidan makes note to ask Deidara what kind of shampoo he used later, because he smelled absolutely incredible.

Kisame

After the last kiss between them, when it was Kisame’s turn, Hidan is hesitant to get close to this guy again. But Kisame is grinning, and appears to be in a good mood. “Ah, come now, Hidan; surely we can let bygones be bygones?” Hidan starts to curse at him, but catches himself just in time: after all, his mouth was what got him into trouble last time. So he merely nods and stands still, while Kisame approaches him. “Are you afraid, Hidan?” “Ah? Why would I be —“ “I can smell the fear coming from you.” Hidan folds his arms in front of his chest and demands to know who wouldn’t be afraid at the thought of possible dismemberment. Kisame just laughs and promises he’ll behave himself. He leans in, locks eyes with Hidan, and flashes his teeth — before giving Hidan a closed-mouth kiss on the forehead. Hidan let’s out a shaky sigh of relief, and Kisame walks away, laughing.

Itachi

Like Deidara, Hidan has a bit of a grudge against the raven-haired Uchiha. He’s fallen victim before to the power of Itachi’s sharingan, and the calm, quiet way that Itachi reacts to Hidan’s jabs and wheedles always serve to irritate. But even so — Hidan has to admit that the guy isn’t all THAT bad (certainly not the hell-spawn that Deidara makes him out to be, anyway). There was a time once when Hidan caught a cold, and Itachi braved going into his room to bring him a cup of sinus-clearing tea. Itachi steps up to him and nods, and Hidan leans forward and kisses him on the cheek. An oddly sweet gesture, and one that Itachi seems to like, as he actually smiles before he leaves. Hidan watches him go, thinking (and not for the first time) that having a talent like the sharingan is completely wasted in someone who isn’t immortal. Maybe he should talk to him later about joining the Jashinist movement ...

Pein (Nagato)

If the Akatsuki is a family, and everybody (save Konan) are Pein’s children, then Hidan is undoubtedly the problem child of the group. The loudest, the most foul-mouthed, definitely the most violent ... but still. When Hidan could find an ounce of maturity, and focus, he was one of the best members of the team. And Nagato finds his regenerative abilities to be amazing, and, if there was ever the time and opportunity for it, would love to study Hidan in-depth. Pein approaches him and Hidan bows his head, an act of respect he gives to the Leader ... and ONLY the Leader. Pein delivers a light kiss to the forehead and walks away. He can hear Hidan mumbling behind him about “those damn piercings could kill somebody” but chooses to ignore it.

Zetsu

Oh, God. Hidan smells like human blood most of the time (thanks to his many gory sacrifices), and Zetsu is attracted to this scent like a bee is to a flower. He’d hang around this guy all day if he could, if not for the smell then to act as clean-up for the bits and pieces of his victims that he leaves behind. But Hidan doesn’t quite care for the plant man, to say the least. He didn’t sign up for the Akatsuki to be made to work alongside non-human freaks of nature. When Zetsu walks up to Hidan, the gray-haired jashin lover is nervous, to say the least. Zetsu puts his hand on Hidan’s face, leans in, and kisses his nose. It should only take a second, but Zetsu lingers over the spot for an abnormal amount of time ... and Hidan realizes it’s because he’s sniffing him, like an animal. “Okay, freak; get the hell away from me!” But Zetsu doesn’t move, in fact tightening his grip on Hidan’s face. Hidan is surprised; Zetsu is quite a bit stronger than he’d realized. His surprise turns to fear when the expression in Zetsu’s eyes shifts, and Hidan hears a very noticeable stomach-growl come from him. Hidan is seconds away from fight or flight (he hasn’t quite decided yet) when Tobi comes into the room, seemingly breaking the trance Zetsu had been in. Hidan breathes out a sigh of relief as zetsu keaves, giving silent thanks to the moron in the mask.

Tobi

After “scaring” Zetsu away, Tobi gleefully announces that its his turn with Hidan. “Ohh boy, Hidan-san! You and Tobi are gonna have fun!” Hidan is actually quite eager for this; not so much for the kiss itself, but for his chance to see this freak up close and unmasked. Tobi looks behind him; nobody else is around. He turns back to Hidan and slides his mash halfway off his face, revealing his pale skin, dark, long-lashed eyes, and full lips, pursed into a grin. Getting closer, Hidan can detect faded, jagged lines extending from the right side of his forehead to the bottom of his mouth. Still, even with them — “Fucking hot”, Hidan mutters, the words slipping out before he can stop them. Tobi grins and cups Hidan’s face, staring into his eyes. “So are you,” he murmurs, and is it Hidan’s imagination or is his voice ... different, somehow? Well, no time to think about it; suddenly Tobi’s (unbelievably soft) lips are on his own, and for the first time since this encounter started, Hidan feels a feather-touch of unease. The way Tobi’s kissing him ... this isn’t how an idiot kisses. What in the name of Jashin — and then just as quickly as it began, it ends. Tobi slides his mask back into place, and skips off to the kitchen. Hidan has to take a few moments to collect himself, and in the way-back of his mind is a small voice urging him to warn Deidara to watch himself around Tobi. About what? Hidan doesn’t know the specifics. All he knows is those two are alone a LOT for missions, and if Tobi really is more than he seems, then — But then again, why should he care what happens with the blonde jerk, anyway?

Sasori

Another person that annoys Hidan. He was in the Akatsuki for almost an entire year before he’d realized that the ugly body that he was in, wasn’t even his own. His surprise when he witnessed a hatch open and a childlike-looking redhead step out was unprecedented. Learning that he was in his 30’s meant that Hidan should have shown him the proper respect, but Hidan just couldn’t take orders from somebody with the face of a young boy. Sasori seems to know this, and therefore avoids interactions with him as much as possible. Now, however, contact is unavoidable. “Can you even reach my face, shorty?” Sasori tilts his head and seems to really be considering Hidan’s question. Suddenly, without warning, Sasori’s wooden arm detaches itself from Sasori’s body, and hits Hidan full-force in the center of his stomach. Hidan curses and doubles over, and while he’s bent Sasori takes the opportunity to go to Hidan and kiss his forehead. “I can reach you just fine, brat,” he murmurs, before leaving. Hidan has a quick recovery time to all forms of pain, and he’s quickly back on his feet, staring after Sasori with anger — and a tiny bit of admiration.

Kakuzu

“Hey old fucker; you’ve been waiting all day to get a taste of this, eh?” Kakuzu just rolls his eyes at Hidan’s comment. He’s not sure what he did, either in this life or another one, to be partnered with a creature as odious as Hidan. Normally with people that Kakuzu finds no value in, he kills, plain and simple. But Hidan is neither plain nor simple; no matter what Kakuzu hits him with, he keeps getting back up, just as loud and irritating as ever. But ... even someone as gruff as Kakuzu has to admit that Hidan isn’t all that bad. It’s actually a bit lovely, to have found another person (besides Sasori, who has made it clear that when everyone else expires, his complete solitude is something he’s looking forward to) to be with to share the blessing (and curse) of immortality. He walks up to Hidan and grabs him by the forearms, forcing him into stillness. “What the hell, old man?! Let go of me before —“ but Kakuzu interrupts him by inclining his neck and kissing his lips. Hidan’s mouth is soft, and he has a taste to him, something akin to cinnamon or pumpkin. Kakuzu let’s go of him and starts to walk away, when suddenly Hidan reaches out grabs him, pulling him into another kiss. Kakuzu is surprised, but he makes no attempt to break Hidan’s hold on him because ... this is nice. This feels good, this feels natural. Almost like — and then a sudden explosion makes them both jump; Tobi comes running past them, with Deidara (and his bombs) on his heels. “Get back here you little shit!!” Kakuzu sighs, and this time when he turns to go, Hidan doesn’t stop him. But Kakuzu can feels Hidan’s eyes on him, following him all the way to his room.

#the akatsuki #under the mistletoe #kissing #hidan #kakuzu #deidara #sasori #tobi #zetsu #pein #nagato #konan #kisame #itachi uchiha

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baebeyza · 3 years

Note

Unpopular Opinion: Optimus Prime isn't a very good person and that he's too glorified. (expect TFA Optimus)

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

What can I say except that there are many, many Optimus'/Convoy's out there and making a general opinion on them just doesn't work.

But I couldn't think of any Optimus I experienced who wasn't deep down a good person - lets make a roll call shall we? (includes all shows except RB and RBA + Bayverse)

G1 Optimus Prime - Good person, good leader, good father figure. Is forgiving towards wrong-doers without being a pushover. Couldn't think of anything he does that is sketchy

Beast Wars Optimus Primal - He has a harsh personality, hits Rattrap on the back of his head when the Rat talks bullshit and can get feral against his own teammates when they are being assholes like Depth Charge - but all in all, he is still a good leader and a good person. He simply has a more down-to-earth personality and a no-bullshit attitude.

He only ever reacts angrily because his team do stupid and jerkass stuff, but he is never unreasonable.

When he gets angry, you know why and you get why.

Also, he gave Dinobot a chance as a Maximal two times, so he too has a forgiving nature. And his dynamic with Depth Charge shows that he isn't petty either. ("I don't like him much either, but he's still a Maximal.")

He also had a nice moment with Blackarachnia in which he assures her they won't do anything about her coding against her will and that she is safe with them.

Beast Wars II Lio Convoy - The only thing you could call him out for is for refusing the father role when he found out he has a son. It took him half the show to actually call Lio Junior his son, but it made for a nice story! Also, he was willing to make peace with Galvatron in the show, showing his forgiving nature.

Beast Wars Neo Big Convoy - The shy and awkward one! He's a treat who learns to become a good teacher and leader with the help of his students, and he had this moment in which he tried to save Magmatron's life from Unicron. He is a hero with a strong sense of justice who needed to learn about proper teamwork and friendship and it's a really simple and sweet story.

Beast Machines Optimus Primal - This dude is such a trainwreck and I cannot in good conscious say he was always on the right side of things, I admit that.

The way the show treated the Vehicons was a little sketchy, because the Maximals technically became hypocrits, especially when it was about Silverbolt.

Forcing the "techno-organic is the real way to be" unto the non-organic characters feels a little weird, because the show never properly showed us why being without an organic side is supposed to be so bad. (And this matters because the good vs evil conflict isn't properly connected to the techno vs organic plot).

So this Oppy you can make the point that he isn't all that good as he pretends to be in his preachy cult leader role.

RiD01 Optimus Prime/Fire Convoy - Listen, this is the most naive and cute Optimus out there. This dude was willing to let Decepticons into their base just because they were like "We are good now :)" without even checking first.

His dynamic with his jerkass twin Magnus supports that - he doesn't want to fight his brother! The dude fucking pushes him off a cliff and he still tries to reason with him and doesn't fight back at all!

Don't you ever dare call this Prime a bad person, he's precious! xD

Armada Optimus Prime/Convoy - This is the dude who goes fucking feral at the end and shows just how much hatred and anger a Prime can store - but really just towards the end! The rest of the show he's your typical leader who doesn't do anything bad.

And when he made mistakes, he corrected them.

The fact that he always had this hatred and rage that he pushed aside all the time is the most interesting thing about this Prime, but even that doesn't make him a secretely bad person, because he still doesn't do anything bad. He's just an angry boi.

Energon Optimus Prime/Grand Convoy - This is technically the same Prime as Armada, and for once that shows - that anger Prime showed at the end of Armada is still present here and shows up a few times, especially when it's about Unicron.

But just like in Armada, he doesn't do anything bad.

He even tries to save Shockblast, the jerkiest jerk of the entire show, from Unicron's influence! And did just that with Galvatron at the end as well with the full intend to sacrifise himself to save everyone, including the Cons.

Cybertron Optimus Prime/Galaxy Convoy - My favourite Prime of them all - this Prime is just a damn Papa Bear! He will be considerate and loving towards his men, but if you bully his kids, you'll catch his hands bro.

He's bit a stoic dude, but shows compassion and kindness when he needs to.

He doesn't do anything sketchy either, and lets the few remaining Cons be part of the Transformers society in the end, despite their misdeeds before.

TFA Optimus Prime - The one you say is the only good Prime? Guess so, he's a good person as well! He makes mistakes (like insulting his team) but learns and grows from them.

But mate - he isn't a better person than any of the other Prime's I just listed. The only difference between TFA Prime and the other Primes so far is that TFA Prime is a narrative underdog who you are supposed to feel pity for.

All the other Prime's are leaders in a leader role, so just from a narrative standpoint, you don't feel the same sympathy for them as you do for TFA Prime.

But being an underdog doesn't translate to being a better person. The Joker in the Joker movie is also an underdog, but no one says he's a good person and that everything he does in this movie is justified.

TFA Prime just goes through more harsh shit that isn't Megatron and that's it. He isn't being a better hero or person for that.

TFP Optimus Prime - Yeah, I saw the opinion that him being too forgiving towards Megatron in the past is a flaw and that he cares more about this one silver shark more than about the safety of the universe - to which I say: WHEN???

This is a thing Ratchet accuses him off! But I couldn't remember a single scene in this show in which Optimus does, in fact, let Megatron go when he had the chance to kill him!

They always fought to the death when they did and Megatron surviving wasn't because Optimus was too nice. He's not Son Goku peeps.

And I have my issues with TFP Prime and how his characters is written, but being a secretely bad person aint it. He isn't a bad person.

If this is also about Starscream - he has every right to not trust Starscream. No one should trust Starscream! Starscream doesn't exist to be trusted by anyone.

You cannot call Prime a bad person because he elects to not trust the notorious backstabber, who, as Prime himself as pointed out, only does things for his own gain.

Also, he did try to make peace with Starscream after Megatron's "Death", and Starscream refused.

Is it about him destroying the Omega Lock? Nothing wrong with that! He chose to save Earth and all its Humanity over restoring a dead planet! Dead planet stays dead, alive planet stays alive. No one died by his decision to destroy the Omega Lock - but a whole ass planet would have died if he hadn't.

Like bro - I am not a big sucker for TFP Prime, but all these points I see floating around to prove that he is actually a bad person are kinda weird and biased.

Why should he have given Starscream a chance? To get backstabbed and used??? Which we know would have happened because this is fucking Starscream we are talking about??? A dude who doesn't care about Earth in the slightest and was happy about it being destroyed? Who only cares about power and winning this war, which is why he goes back to Megatron???

Should have sacrifised Earth? Would that have made him a true hero???

RiD15 Optimus Prime - This TFP Prime, just sterner, weaker and ready to start beef. But ultimately still a good guy.

Bayverse Optimus Prime - Here you got a Prime who kills his enemies! For anyone saying that TFP Prime is bad for not killing Megatron when he could, do you at least like Bayverse Prime for doing just that? Three times???

Even though he kills all his enemies, I never saw that as him being evil. He just doesn't give second chances. And it was refreshing to see a hero who actually does get rid of his enemies before they can do more shit.

He aint the nicest bot in town, but in the end he still did the heroic thing.

Movie 4 even gave him an arc about losing his faith in humanity and not wanting to help them anymore, but in the end he still does because his Barn Husband Cade convinces him to.

Good man I say, good man!

Prime Wars Optimus Prime - He tried to stop Windblade from making a mistake that would end in war with an emphasis on Windblade herself - saying that war is horrible and he doesn't want her to go through the same thing.

He then decides to help her anyway when he learns what the stakes are, is giving Megatron a second chance, keeps being on friendly footing with the dude and dies in an attempt to destroy the bad guy.

All in all, a good boy!

Cyberverse Optimus Prime - He forbids his soldiers from taking Energon from a foreign planet because the local fauna need it to survive - he constantly tries to do peace talks and doesn't give up on them - He dances in front of his crew to cheer them up - he shows remorse about what happened to Wild Wheel and tries to make things right again - he holds the dead Megatron in his arms and calls him his old friend-

Nothing bad about this home boy!

War for Cybertron Optimus Prime - he fucks up the whole damn time, but he has good intentions! He's a flawed individual who realises what his mistakes are!

Making mistakes, even as grand as his, doesn't make him a bad person!

So, no - I don't agree that Optimus is bad person and I also don't agree that TFA Prime is a better person than any other Prime.

Almost all these Prime's do good things, protect life, try to choose peace over conflict at least once and have a forgiving nature (even Bayverse Optimus, as he forgives humanity) - that all good guy qualities for me!

What more do you want from him to be a good person? Be nice to Starscream off all people???

Also, what do you even consider to be "too glorified"??? The newest media like WFC doesn't even depict him as a good leader because he fucks up so bad.

#transformer posting #transformer rant #bey's shit

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fuchsiagrasshopper · 3 years

Text

Contending the Flame VII

Author's Note: Not much to say here, but the story's content will start to go up in rating after this, so prepare yourself for some wild changes coming! Thanks as always for being such a fantastic audience :)

Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word count: 2336

Warnings: language, mentions of blood, master/servant dynamic

Victory had been claimed for the sons of Ragnar. They managed to secure their hold over York, banishing the idea from the Saxons' minds that they could ever again rule the city. Hostages had been taken, and through the blood and the rain, they had seen themselves suffer their share of wounds. All battles came with a price.

Ivar had acquired his injuries, most being from arrows. After he had been tended to by healers and cleansed of blood, the damage had taken its toll and the pain had set in. He was carried to his chambers by Ubbe and another warrior. Hvitserk had not been able to lend a hand as he had sustained a spear to the leg. When first brought the news of his brother's injury, Ivar had felt a stirring of worry, and hatred towards the dead Saxon soldier. For a moment he had wished for Hel to raise the dead once more if it meant he could feed the Christian his axe. He did not want to lose another member of his family, not after his mother or even Sigurd.

The pains of war felt like a bizarre punishment after the glorious charge he had led. His body betrayed him, reminding him of his humility as a cripple once the agony of his legs joined with the burning of his battle wounds. He remembered little of the healers prodding at him and had fallen into a restless sleep, halfway between consciousness and oblivion.

When he came around again, he was roused by the smell of flowers in the dead of night. A fire was burning low in the hearth, and as he turned his head towards the table at his side, a clay vase had been filled with those familiar purple blooms. They had a delicate, sweet smell, the likes of which he had never seen around Kattegat. The harsh winters of home were something he doubted they could have withstood.

Ivar shifted carefully, trying to sit up when he took notice of the dip in the bed beside him. You were above the furs, sitting upright with your back against the wall at the head of the bed. Ólaug, or Catherine; he wasn't certain what to call you. You must have meant to sit down only for a moment but had fallen asleep instead. His eyes traced over the restful look on your face, a pleasant change from the terror that had been there the last time.

Remembering everything Hvitserk had told him, he was brought back to a state of frustration. He didn't want your fear, he wanted your admiration. You had passion when you spoke with him, something that had been driven out by this treacherous spy.

Ivar brought his attention back to his sleeping nun, taking in the rest of you. His gaze was drawn to the particular detail of your exposed calf. Your frock had ridden up to your knee, leaving your lower leg open to the air. He often found himself mesmerized by the beauty of women's legs, admitting only to himself that it was because of his disgust for his own. The smooth curve of your calf met a delicate ankle, that extended to a long, narrow foot.

He wanted to feel the heat of your soft skin, and there was no battle with temptation as he brought his hand towards the exposed flesh. His rough knuckles dragged down on your smooth skin like hail against a silk sheet. The sensation was heady, and the walls of the room felt closer from the rush of lust. Ivar was emboldened. He wrapped his hand around your ankle, forgetting from your time as his thrall that you were a light sleeper.

Your head that had been tucked into your chest jerked up, and you lurched forward, startled awake by his hand. Your eyes met and Ivar could see the same fear there that took hold of an animal before it was about to bolt away. He wasn't going to tolerate that. In no mood or condition to chase you, Ivar tightened his hold on your ankle and tugged you down on the bed with harsh force. You let out a sharp gasp, unable to collect yourself before he had you trapped below him. Everything hurt, but he struggled through the discomfort as he held himself up by his arms above you.

"I did not invite you to share my bed, Christian."

"My apologies," You sputtered. "I'm only here because your brothers do not know which slaves they can trust."

Ivar let out a huff of annoyance, unadjusted to his brothers' concerns for his well-being. It was behaviour he had come to expect from his mother, and maybe Floki. "Right, a spy who is a threat to my life, and whispers in your ear."

Your eyes that had been downcast returned to his face. "Hvitserk told you?"

"My brothers tell me everything. You were mistaken to think otherwise."

He reached for your arm between them, the one covered with the cloth bandage. You were quick to snatch it away, your face coloured in shame. Ivar brought his hand up to your cheek instead, stroking below the bruise that he had yet to get a full explanation. "Stop that, please," You whispered.

"You believe I'll hurt you, even after I've shown to be generous towards you."

"But I am only a slave, and I mean nothing to you. If you killed your brother, what chance do I have of being spared?"

Ivar frowned. It seemed the spy had filled you in on more than just the Bishop. "You know about Sigurd?"

You nodded. "I know you murdered him, like Cain slew Abel."

He did not know of these men for whom you spoke of, but he had the unfortunate feeling that the comparison was not of flattery. Now that you knew things about him that he would not have shared likely, he felt at a disadvantage. He eased away from you, only for you to let out a cry of surprise as he pulled back.

"Ivar," You exclaimed, shoving your palm at the center of his chest so he would lie back down.

He spotted or rather felt what you had seen. It seemed one of his wounds had opened up on his side, the blood leaving a cold, damp stain on his tunic. You leapt up and over him, setting to work on filling a bowl with water. Your fast pace that you had set was dizzying. Ivar watched as you opened up the leather pouch that had been abandoned on the table until now. It contained healing supplies. Your lack of hesitation for what you grabbed proved you were capable, and you were back at his side without pause.

"Off with this, please," You instructed him to shed his tunic, and you had water touching skin the moment he had discarded the soiled clothing. "Look what you've done."

Ivar had never seen you look so disapproving. It was endearing. That you had scolded him by name had not slipped past his notice. "Ivar?"

You paused long enough in your work for your eyes to widen with understanding. "Oh, forgive me. I should not have been so bold."

He turned more towards you while you continued to work, giving a small shrug in response. "It is my name, and I am no longer your master. Perhaps you should cease with formalities."

"No, it wouldn't be proper. You are still a Prince, and leader of an army."

"Then I must insist on calling you Ólaug."

He let out a hiss as you took the needle to his skin, halting only a moment to let him adjust to the discomfort before moving to close the wound. You shot him a small smile, and he grunted from time to time with each passing of the point through his flesh.

"But that's not my name," You insisted as you tied off the end of the stitch, cutting away the remainder of the loose thread with a small knife.

"And it isn't Catharine," Ivar shot back. "So tell me, who are you?"

You sat back on your chair, resting your hands in your lap. They were pink and red from his blood, with dark grime under your short nails. A healer's hands. His own were rough and stained with blood, but from taking lives, not saving them.

"Why is my old name so important? This is the second time you've asked it from me."

"I've never known someone to abandon their name. Your God asks strange things of you."

"As I'm sure yours do as well," You said with no unkindness in your tone. "May I ask about the markings on your back?"

"Your men do not have tattoos?"

You shook your head, eyes wide and full of curiosity. "The body is meant to be untainted, and we should be satisfied with what God gave us."

And yet they made women cut their hair before entering a nunnery. Ivar did not say as much. You were finally allowing your guard to slip, falling back into another one of your conversations that he'd missed.

"We do not read or write in books as you do, but we preserve our stories in runes and symbols. Tattoos are just another way to honour the Gods."

"Did they hurt?"

Ivar let out a gruff laugh. "I was born into suffering. I hardly remember what it felt like to have the colours bleed under my skin. But any sacrifice to the Gods is a privilege, be it in pain, or a life."

"I don't understand how your gods could demand the life of their people," You said, a distraught look falling over you.

"And I don't understand why you Christians nail your people up on crosses."

"It is an act of punishment and humiliation for the criminal. It should dissuade others from committing the same sins."

Ivar smirked. "But we're the savages?"

"I don't claim to be a delegate for all Christians, but I don't believe you are savages. I sometimes think we are similar."

Viking and Christian alike; impossible. "You are naive to think that."

"Maybe so," You said, coming to a stand as you started to clean up your supplies. "But this fighting for York could have been prevented if the King had settled on negotiations with you and your brothers. Our holy Father blessed us all with free will, and we chose to fight and kill, just as your people have."

"A war is a strange place to search for peace," He retorted.

You let a chuckle escape, turning to him with a face flooded in pink. It was beautiful. "Indeed."

There was a prolonged stretch of silence, neither one of them filling it until you returned to sit at the foot of the bed. Ivar liked to think you were comfortable enough in his presence for the moment that you had not felt the need to fill it with empty words.

"Is peace what you want for your people?" He prodded while shifting underneath the furs.

"I'm not in a position to speak on such matters as this is the most exposure I've seen of battle. I suppose peace is better than tending to bloody men, and women waiting at home for husbands and sons who will never return."

"And what about you? If you could wish for anything in this world, what would it be?"

Your face turned to weariness, and for a moment he suspected he had offended you. He would have offered to take the words back if it would have helped, but you chose to answer.

"I wish I was happy," You said in a voice so low that Ivar had almost missed what you had said. But he had heard, to which he frowned in confusion. "You thought I would ask for freedom?"

"Isn't that what all those in enslavement hope for?" He rebuked.

"Before I was captured by you heathens, I was still a prisoner. This is just a different cage."

"I thought being a nun was an honour?" He couldn't help but sneer the words, but you did not appear dismayed.

"When I joined the convent, it was for a sense of duty. It brought me contentment, but there was no joy in my days."

You brought your legs up onto the furs, settling in without regard of whom you were close to. Ivar was pleased by your unintentional behaviour, mesmerized by your fingers as you trailed them through the thick pelted covers.

"I don't understand," He spoke up eventually, long enough to break his concentration on your stroking of the furs.

"Of course you don't. You are a man, a Viking, and a prince. Your life was marked with freedom of choice the moment you drew breath. If I was granted freedom this very moment, where would I go?"

'With me', he thought but did not say the petulant thought aloud. If it was happiness you desired, then he would give it to you.

"I've intruded on you long enough. Would you like me to leave?" You enquired, moving to stand.

"No, stay," he commanded without thinking, and the harshness of his voice caused you to flinch. Taking a quick breath through his nose, he tried again. "Tell me about Cain and Abel."

You eased back onto the bed, choosing to stay out of arm's reach as you delved into your tale. Ivar listened, enraptured by the passion that took over you in the telling. His own heart was beating with a different excitement, and he wondered how much longer he could keep his adoration from you. You were a Christian disguised in heavy frocks and gaudy crosses, but beneath all of that lurked a free woman longing to burst forth, and Ivar was going to draw her out.

Taglist

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#ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x you #ivar lothbrok #vikings imagine #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #history vikings #ivar imagine #vikings

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navigatrixnarrations · 2 years

Text

Sharpe’s Beacon Part 5

Summary: A bit of mutual pining and back-story, as a treat.

Word Count: 2604

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Interrupted sexual assault. Mention of past abuse.

Catch up here: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Davy is struggling to stay awake. Trying to hide it though she is, Sharpe sees the yawns she’s stifling, the way she jerks her big eyes open as her lids keep drifting shut. Could be she’s simply waiting for him to dismiss her, could be she’s enjoying his company as much as he’s enjoying hers.

“Go catch some proper kip, Davy lass. The stars will keep.”

She starts to respond, but whatever she was about to say is cut off by a yawn, one graceful, long-fingered hand covering her mouth too late to conceal it.

“Or will I have to carry you to your tent?”

Her full lips turn up in a smirk. “That would cause talk, Sir.”

Aye, it would, if anyone were to see, and there’s the trouble. Just because it’s an open secret in Intelligence that she’s a woman, it doesn’t mean she can let the rest of the army know (though Sharpe has no idea how the entire world hasn’t caught on, looking as she does).

She pauses at the opening of her tent to glance back at him over her shoulder. “Good night, Sir.”

Sharpe laces his fingers behind his head and lays back on the bench, finding the constellations Davy had just shown him. And there it is, the North Star, the one that doesn’t move in the night sky, the one that she said shows the way. Sentimental git, he scolds himself. He retires to his own tent, an endless gulf of two sheets of canvas and two paces separating him from Davy. Eventually, he sleeps.

Davy lass. She can hear Sharpe’s voice in her mind as she readies herself for sleep. She doesn’t think she imagined the affection in the way he said it. First time she’s ever been called a pet name by any man. Not by her brute of a husband, may he rot in Hell, that’s for certain. Davy prides herself on being a good officer and a better soldier, and those hard-won victories would be lost in an instant if she were found out. Stevens would have if she had let him, but she couldn’t allow him to. She couldn’t let her Sergeant that close, no matter how much she wanted to. She winces. Their last conversation was an argument, really, and then the damnable Frogs came with their damnable mortars, tipped off by a traitor who will pay, she will see to that if it kills her…

She’d gone to have a piss in the bushes, and Stevens followed at a distance. Steadfast as always, facing the other way while she pulled up her trousers. She paused to admire his broad shoulders that threatened to burst the seams of his jacket, the dark hair pulled back from his angular face in an old-fashioned plait. Women noticed him whenever they were in a town. If only things were different, but they were as they were, and no amount of sweet nothings murmured in her ear could change that, could mitigate the risk of losing everything she’d worked for.

“When we’re alone, it doesn’t have to be about rank or the army or anything else but us!” There was strain in his voice she’d never heard there before, not in battle, not when he’d been wounded. “It could be just us. Why can’t you let it be just us?”

“Sergeant, now is not the time for this conversation.”

“It’s never the time for this conversation, is it, Lieutenant.” Stevens didn’t try to disguise the bitterness in his voice, and she couldn’t be angry at him for that; she was angry at herself.

The next day, he pushed her out of the way of an incoming shell. Tears prickle her eyes, and she’s too exhausted to hold them back.

The next day passes with parade and drilling, marksmanship practice and equipment repairs, and Davy is sure she’ll go mad with impatience. There’s a traitor somewhere amongst them, and though her ears are open, nothing about any of the men she encounters, officers or enlisted, raise her suspicions. At least, after half an afternoon of marching ‘round a field, they’re given the rest of the day off. Come morning, the Light Company will be on picket duty. She goes to vent her frustrations at Hogan, but at her approach he simply holds up one finger: it’s not a good time. Too many non-Intel officers about. Too many ears of unknown loyalties. She suppresses a heavy sigh and returns to Sharpe, who she finds alone, sharpening his sword by the Chosen Men’s tents. She sits beside him and begins sharpening her much-used bayonet. “Where are the others, Sir?”

“Harper’s still at the infirmary with his son, and the rest are whoring.” His eyes go to her bandaged arm and shakes his head slightly at her. “You’ll tear it open.”

Davy glances at him sidelong with a sly half-grin. Years ago, when Hogan thought she might have the makings of an assassin of the powerful, he sent her for lessons in proper manners for a young lady, in how to dance and flirt and charm men. She’d lasted nearly a week and several fistfights with rich little bitches who tried to trip her or pinch her before the instructor declared her hopeless at faking high society; young ladies of breeding, she was informed, do not brawl. “And you’ll stitch it up for me again if I do, Sir.”

Sharpe’s face stays serious, even grim, and she fears she pushed too far, presumed a closeness with him that would allow such banter where no such closeness yet exists, but his voice, when it comes, is as gentle as his hands had been when treating her wound. “Never doubt that.” Davy allows herself to smile at him, just a bit.

Sharpe forces himself to sound jovial; that slight smile of hers has gone straight to the pit of his belly. “I’m in no mood for the officer’s mess, and Cooper was going on about a tavern. Might be our last chance for owt but rabbit for a while.” Side by side, they walk the mile into town.

A sharp scream, quickly muffled, echoes from a doorway off the high street. Three arseholes in the gold-trimmed red coats of lieutenants have backed a townswoman into it, one drunkenly trying to open her blouse while the other two pin her by the arms. She’s fighting, cursing and kicking at them. “I do like a cunt with some fight in her,” slurs one. And then he goes slack as Sharpe yokes him with an arm across the throat, pulling him off the woman and flinging him to the ground where he kicks him in the solar plexus, causing the bastard to crawl away gagging.

Davy, meanwhile, has tapped a second on the shoulder, bringing a swift, vicious knee to his balls and then under his chin when he whirls to face her. Together, they drag the third backward, Sharpe using the barrel of his rifle as a bar across the arsehole’s throat. Davy turns toward the woman, who gives her a grateful nod then flees.

Sharpe knows their sort: snobs who bought their officer’s commissions and are too cowardly to do real fighting or dirty their soft hands, but live to brutalise anyone they see as beneath them. When he was enlisted, he served under any number of such so-called gentlemen.

“Do you know who we are?” slurs one. His eyes go from Sharpe to Davy and back. “It’s a death sentence to strike an officer.” He starts to lurch toward Sharpe, and Davy fires a warning shot over his head. He halts, his expression flickering between fear and fury before settling on the outrage that rich men reserve for any poor person who dares stand up to them.

“Aye, it is,” Sharpe agrees, “Lieutenant.” Davy has seen enough of Sharpe to know he’s leading the posh little gobshites to a trap of their own making. “Just as it’s a hanging offence to assault civilian women.” The corner of his mouth twists upward and his green eyes go dark, and Davy thinks she never wants to be on his bad side. “Now, who’s your superior?”

“Why should I tell you, you ragamuffin?”

Sharpe turns to Davy. “Lieutenant Davy, do you reckon these gentlemen are knowingly disobeying a lawful order?”

Davy looks at the three, her expression deadpan. “I’ve known Major Sharpe to execute mutineers without so much as a tribunal. I can’t say I favour your chances, even if he were to return you to your commander.”

“M-Major?” Then, remembering he’s posturing before his mates and too drunk to reason, the lieutenant sneers. “You?”

“Aye.” Sharpe’s chin goes forward mockingly. “Me.”

“Surely you’ve heard of Major Sharpe,” Davy adds. “He’s the one who captured that Frog eagle. Saved General Wellington’s life.” She pauses and adjusts the strap of her rifle. “Has the General’s ear, the Major does, and the Colonel’s.” She glances at Sharpe, and then back at the three, her face going hard as it had when she was knifing a voltigeur.

“I…we…we apologize, Major Sharpe. Please don’t tell Captain Fotheringham.”

“I’ll think it over. Meanwhile, it’s straight back to camp for you. Don’t let me hear about any other misbehaviour.” He looks at them coldly. “Dismissed.”

They nearly trip over their own limbs as they take their leave.

“Thank you, Sir.” Davy’s voice is quiet.

“For what?”

“For intervening. Most men wouldn’t think to, much less carry through.” Her eyes look far away and she shakes her head as though shaking off dark thoughts. What did men do to you, Davy, lass?

She swallows hard in answer to the question on his face. “I told you how when I was thirteen, I was married off to a brute of a man. Came to learn he paid the orphanage for me. When he wasn’t beating me until I could barely stand, he was having me pick pockets for coin I never saw even a glint of after. Said if I didn’t bring in enough that way, he’d have me earn it on my back instead. And he would have, too; he ran a few other girls.” Liked having it off with them, too, then telling her how much better they were in bed than she. When she retorted that was because they knew how to pretend that they liked fucking him, he, well, there’s no need to dwell on what he did to her next, but it hurt to walk for days afterward...

Sharpe exhales, a harsh, angry breath. How dare that, he can’t call her former husband a man, can he, that fucking bastard. How dare that fucking bastard.

Davy inhales, bracing herself for what she’s about to tell him. “When I was sixteen, he was threatening me with a knife, again, and I couldn’t take any more. He kept me underfed so I’d be too weak to fight back much, but he got overconfident, so I pretended to faint then stabbed the fucker in the gut and slit his throat with his own knife. I promised myself I’d never again be any man's prey. I’ll not stand by and watch other women go through that, either, not if I can stop it.” She stares at Sharpe defiantly, expecting to see disgust. Instead, there’s an unexpected softness in his green eyes, softness and respect.

“We’re survivors, we are.” He takes her hands in his. “They tried to destroy us, but we put them in the ground.”

He’s still holding her gaze just as he’s holding her hands, in a surprisingly tender grip for a man as fierce as he. Men have only ever caused me pain, but this man is different, she thinks. If only he wasn’t her superior. If she makes a move on him, he’ll likely decide she’s little different than a whore, trying to use him for her own advancement or creature comforts, and she can’t bear for him to think that of her.

At the tavern, Davy excuses herself to freshen up. Sharpe lounges at a table while he awaits her return. He slips the knife from his boot and hefts it in his hand. Honed sharp and perfect for fighting but well-balanced and small enough for throwing in a pinch, it fits his hand as though it was made to.

Harper’s voice tears Sharpe from his reverie. “That’s a fine blade, Sir. I haven’t seen it before.”

“Davy gave it to me.”

“Ah.” Harper’s expression is entirely too innocent. “A thoughtful gift. She must think highly of you to give you a knife in the hand and not in the gut.”

Sharpe changes the subject. “How’s your boy?”

“Fever broke and he’s right as rain. He and Ramona are asleep now. “ Undeterred by his Major’s attempt at talking about owt but his feelings, Harper’s next words are as pointed as Davy’s knife, despite his casual tone. “‘Twas kind of the Lieutenant to make sure I could be with them, so it was. She’s a good one, our Davy.” Sharpe doesn’t respond, and Pat goes on. “I told her you’re a good one, too, Sir.”

Sharpe’s voice is as wry as his expression. “Stick with soldiering, Pat. I can’t see you making a go of it as a matchmaker.”

Harper shrugs, unrepentant. “I see the way you look at her. We all see it. Like you haven’t looked at any woman since Teresa.”

“Don’t,” Sharpe growls. Harper has gone too far, mentioning his dead wife. But he can’t deny the truth in his Sergeant’s words.

“I see the way she looks at you, too. All of us do, Sir, and we give you our blessing.”

Sharpe doesn’t answer, but he stares at his Sergeant from beneath his brow, and Harper tilts his head with a knowing look. “It isn’t disloyal to care for her, Sir. It doesn’t replace what you lost. Might do you some good. Might do her some good, too, so it might.”

“I said don’t, Sergeant.”

Harper stands. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts, then, Sir. But you can’t have your heart shot for mutiny when it does what it likes.”

Aye, where Davy is concerned, his heart refuses to obey any order he might give it. It’s begun to set itself on Davy, begun to set itself on her with a vigour he never expected to feel again, let alone this quickly. The problem is what to do about it; he’s keenly aware of the power differential, even if his men wouldn’t mind or resent her for it. After what that bastard of a husband did to her, he can’t blame her if she’s gun-shy with men, and what’s more, he never wants her to feel trapped or powerless again. And so he fights beside her, treasures her every smile and pithy comment. Has a man ever touched her with kindness, with care? Harper’s words echo in his head: You both made it work because you both wanted it to work. Would Davy want it to work?

In the foundling home, there were a stray cat who’d regularly come ‘round the yard. A sleek, vicious little tabby. She were skittish at first, but eventually she learned that Sharpe wouldn’t grab at her, and she’d come to him to take food from his hand, would lounge, purring, on his chest in the evenings and let him run hands made sore and raw from picking oakum through her soft fur. Davy reminds him of that cat. Maybe she’ll come to trust him, once he gives her enough reason to. Maybe she’ll come to him.

#sharpefic #sharpe #Richard Sharpe #sharpe's beacon fic

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officerjennie · 3 years

Text

A spiteful continuation of my last Geskel piece (which will be linked in the comments), with Ace!Eskel (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

CW: Smut with feelings (lots of feelings). Bottom Geralt Rights. Intercourse. Teasing that’s (mostly) not meant to be teasing. Eskel getting a little overwhelmed with feelings. WC 5k+

Ever since Geralt had opened up to him, their time together had shifted. Change was something that always came a big more difficult the older one got but Eskel rather liked this change, liked that Geralt relaxed down onto the bed for him, let Eskel’s hands run over his still clothed body and slowly peel the layers off of him.

In all honesty, Geralt had more practice in all of this than he did, and it wasn’t entirely due to his scars. Oh, Eskel was not naïve, he knew the way most humans looked at him. It’s exactly the reason he avoided so many of them - and he’d never fancied himself a hero anyway, simply there to do the dirty work and clean up the messes the world created, dealing with curses and monsters and the like. But he knew he wasn’t a pretty sight to many, his scars playing into their fears, reminding them of what was out there that could hurt them.

And reminding them that he could survive it and far, far worse.

He wondered, sometimes, whether they were more afraid of him for surviving it, or afraid of whatever had attacked him. Not that it really mattered, but it was a thought that drifted in and out of his head throughout the years as he traveled his own path, sticking mostly to the shadows and remaining an anonymous figure for the most part, never creating or wanting to create a name for himself.

“Eskel.”

But Geralt might change his mind about names. Eskel sat straddled in his lap, tilting his head as he watching how the morning light lit up the fan of Geralt’s hair on the pillows. His chest was bare and his abdomen warm beneath one of Eskel’s palms, the muscles subtly clenching in a way meant to entice him to touch more, stomach expanding and collapsing as Eskel simply felt him breathe.

The bulge in Geralt’s pants told him quite clearly the other man was interested in much more than breathing. Eskel’s mouth quirked upward, the scar stretching tight as it did. “Did you want something?”

“Want you to get on with it,” Geralt growled at him, no real heat to his glare.

Humming, Eskel ran his hand flat over Geralt’s stomach, admiring the strength there, stopping to trace a scar along the right side. “Not in a rush, are we?” He’d never cared for rushing. Sex in a hurry held no appeal to him, getting off really not being the purpose. What did it matter if he came if it didn’t mean something between them? If he didn’t have time to show the man beneath him how loved he was?

Geralt never really minded them rushing. Most times he was rather impatient if Eskel was being honest. But now that Geralt had handed him the reigns, it wasn’t up to him to decide how quickly they got to it.

Eskel planned to take his time with it.

At least he was kind enough to divest him of the rest of his clothes. Geralt helpfully hitched up his hips when needed, propping his head up proper to get a better view when Eskel settled down between his spread thighs. Eskel’s fingers got distracted once again by the expanse of skin underneath them, tracing scar after scar, knowing the stories of many and tilting his head curiously at the few others. One was even new, a crescent shaped one just at his hip, with indents in it that Eskel knew had to have hurt more than the smoother ones - knew from experience what missing parts of himself felt like. To soothe the old wound he bend down low to brush his lips against it, closing his eyes, chapped lips hardly able to feel the difference between the scarred flesh and the rest of him.

The feel of a warm, broad hand at the back of his head made Eskel’s eyes flutter back open. He stared up the expanse of his lover, up the pale skin and rather large pectorals that were covered with curls, all the way up to the heated pools of gold that stared at him as if Geralt wanted to devour him whole. It made him smile, a hint of a smirk in it, as he rubbed his nose gently at his hip.

A growl made him laugh, which just earned his hair a bit of a tug - nothing rough, Geralt knew he wasn’t a fan of rough between them, just a gentle reminder that Geralt’s wants were still left resting heavy and full against his thigh.

“‘Patience, little wolf’,” Eskel teased, his eyes glittering with humor at the expression that caused. Geralt groaned and dropped his head back, grouching about not quoting their teacher while they were like this, and Eskel took his chance to run his lips all over the skin he so dearly wanted to spoil and adore.

The thighs were next. He squeezed them and memorized the scars all over, his cheek dangerously close to Geralt’s now leaking cock but he still paid it no mind, far more invested in kissing each and every mark he found on his body. There were no new scars down here but he knew there was a single beauty mark right where his left arse cheek met his thigh and he found it with ease, eyes closed yet again as he pressed a gentle kiss right overtop of it before flicking his tongue out to taste the sweat on his skin. Geralt groaned again but it sounded nothing like the last one, the scent of arousal thick in the air around them, his pre’s scent sharp and cutting through it when Eskel inhaled.

“Fucking tease.”

Eskel didn’t even look up this time, humming as he kissed up Geralt’s thigh, adoring him. Just to make sure they both got an equal amount of love he switched to the other, smattering it with kisses, his heart fluttering in his chest as he did.

There was no doubt in his mind that there had been many hands and lips on this same skin. Nights and days alike where many had roamed Geralt’s body, seeking out his pleasure and their own, men and women and others riding his thighs or cock. Sex workers and those just looking for a thrill, those who had seen the beauty inside of him or had simply wanted a go. They were both no longer young pups and had traveled the world, experiencing much of it, and Geralt had never been shy over seeking out adult pleasures.

His were not the first hands to run over his thighs and marvel at them. His were not the first fingers that squeezed and dug into the muscle there, or to skim oh so close to where he wished they would be wrapped around him. Many eyes had drank him in hungrily before, many lips had found their path just next to his sack - but how many, he wondered, held the trust that Geralt had in him?

Perhaps it was wistful thinking, but he doubted any of them at all. He doubted any were allowed to hold him close the way he was allowed to, doubted any had seen him at his worst and loved him still, that any had allowed to see him so vulnerable in the way Eskel had many times before.

Doubted any had given their hearts so willingly over to him as well.

“Tease - sweet Melitele, Eskel, if you don’t start using that tongue I swear to fuck-” Geralt hissed down at him, his patience breaking and hand tugging at Eskel’s hair in his own sort of plea.

Right. He huffed out a breath that made Geralt swear at him again with it so close to his cock; he really should remember that this was, well, different for the both of them. Maybe he got all he needed just kissing every inch of him but Geralt was after something more.

Didn’t mean Eskel had to be nice about it though. With a glint of mischief in his eyes, he flashed a smile up at Geralt, and then immediately wrapped his lips right around his cock and swallowed around him. The taste of pre was thick on his tongue as Geralt swore, practiced experience having Eskel’s hands coming up to hold Geralt’s hips down since he saw the jerk of them coming. Choking on his love’s cock had never seemed all that appealing to him, no matter that he loved the feel of having him thick against his tongue, feeling the weight there.

Eskel sunk down low, humming very lightly to feel Geralt’s nails scratch gently at his scalp, his love trying to find purchase but being as gentle as he could. He relaxed his jaw to keep from aching, hollowing out his cheeks as he pulled back until just the tip stayed in his mouth, licking the slit and feeling Geralt leak for him.

This was something they could both enjoy greatly. He heard Geralt moan as he sunk down again, his own cock twitching in his pants but he ignored it, not really caring if it got any attention throughout their evening. Though, he supposed, it would eventually once they were joined, but Eskel was much more concerned with their current connection.

It was why he loved this so much. He rested his head briefly against Geralt’s thigh just to feel it warm against him as he sucked lightly on the head of his prick, one hand coming up to fondle his sack, rolling a testicle and feeling Geralt twitch beneath him. There was just something so soothing about being connected like this, in such an intimate way, that Eskel had to fight against the urge to relax and simply lay there, simply exist in that connection - it would drive Geralt up the wall for him to do so, it would earn him so many accusations of teasing but there was no purposeful teasing meant about it. Eskel just…

Perhaps he loved differently, he mused, as he lifted his head once more to sink down and run the flat of his tongue against the bottom of Geralt’s shaft. Perhaps he simply loved being as close as physically possible to his love, and this was one way he could do that. Feel Geralt inside of him and know there were little ways they could be closer than this, than to be intertwined in such a way.

Geralt’s moaning had deepened, rumbling above him. Some words managed to escape him here and there, the occasional praise, his name, his hand cupping the back of Eskel’s head as Geralt did his best to not push him to go faster - as they both knew he wanted to. It gave Eskel a thought that he made sure to put away for later; sometime, he should let Geralt use his mouth as he pleased, but for now he wanted to enjoy this entanglement the way he best knew how.

When the ‘tease’ word slipped out again, Eskel hollowed his cheeks and lifted his head until he let Geralt’s cock slip out with an audible pop, watching it fall heavy and swollen and wanting in his absence. He kissed its leaking head a few times, then kissed down its shaft and over to one of his thighs once more, looking up between his eyelashes in that way he knew Geralt loved as he purred, “You love it” in accusation right back.

Sure, he never meant to tease - well. Usually his actions weren’t meant that way. But it didn’t mean he was entirely oblivious to how much Geralt actually loved being worked up into a tither.

But, Eskel supposed, he’d been ‘teased’ enough. He patted Geralt’s thigh affectionately and then pushed himself up, letting Geralt grunt at him all he wanted while he got up to fetch the oil. It had been left in his pack when they’d gotten to the inn, tossed somewhere into the big pocket, which meant it took him a minute to fish it out. When he finally stood back up he turned to find Geralt palming himself, his eyes heady as he watched Eskel’s movements.

“Pants off,” Geralt ordered, and Eskel found it just amusing enough to listen. He tossed the oil at his face first, not doubting for a second that his hand would snatch it right out of the air, and in no rush finally undid the buckles for his own pants and slipped out of his smalls.

The cold air hitting his own prick made him want to hiss. He glanced down, not having really even realized how much his body had been reacting to this, finding himself heavy and wanting - only natural, he supposed. The scent of sex and arousal was heavy in the air and it had been a while since he’d given himself any sort of satisfaction; Geralt had gone off on his own for the past few months to try and hunt down his friend, after having shown him his arse on top of a mountain, leaving Eskel to his own devices in the meantime.

And left to his own devices, Eskel had little to no real interest in taking the time to relieve himself in such a fashion - most days he forgot about it entirely, until he was perhaps a little too grouchy when asking for the right payment for a hunt, or when he found himself staring a little too long at some cute thing that passed him by.

He climbed back into bed and resumed his position between Geralt’s thighs, this time hooking his fingers under his knees and lifting him up so he could get a good look at his entrance. With an outstretched hand he asked for the oil back, catching it when it was tossed at his face in revenge, flashing his love an amused smirk and loving the one he saw on Geralt’s face as well.

The look lost its amusement when he swatted Geralt’s hand away from his cock, replaced with a glower that held no real heat. He apologized with a kiss that made Geralt buck his hips just to be a prick, and Eskel nipped his thigh in revenge.

“Get on with it.”

One of these days, Eskel was going to ignore him. He shook his head fondly, already missing the way Geralt’s fingers felt in his hair and the way he felt on his tongue but more than willing to ‘get on with it’ if that’s what Geralt wanted.

He popped the oil open and slicked up three of his fingers, though he would only be using one for the time being, before pouring some directly below Geralt’s sack to watch it drip down his crack. It made Geralt shiver and made a bit of a mess on the sheets but Eskel was, if anything, very careful about this sort of thing. The last thing he wanted was to cause Geralt any sort of discomfort, though he knew there was always going to be some measure of that whenever stretching him open; his plan was always to cause as little unnecessary discomfort as possible, all things considered.

With his slicked up middle finger, he slipped down and followed the path of the dripping oil, running it against Geralt’s entrance and watching it twitch at the light attention. As Geralt tried to push down into it, Eskel held one of his legs up further, pushing it up by the thigh to give him a good view of what he was doing, of the attention he was giving his love. His finger glided so easily over where Geralt wanted it, and he circled it on his entrance, pushing ever so gently to see how easy it might give to the pressure.

Didn’t take much to push in just to the first knuckle, feeling the ring of muscle clench around him. He heard the gasp and subsequent exhale of air when he did, heard Geralt’s heartbeat pick up ever so slightly as he rubbed inside of him, feeling the tug of it all. Geralt clenched down at the hint that he might take his finger out and it made Eskel huff out some air of his own; Geralt really didn’t want to let him go, did he?

But he was a bit too tight, not relaxing for him. He worked that one finger in gently, in and out slower than Geralt would have preferred, feeling his thigh clenching under his hand as he did. Slowly, the resistance faded, Eskel kissing the leg that he held up and murmuring for Geralt to relax for him, let him take care of him.

It made his heart ache in the best of ways that Geralt did let him. That Geralt moved about as best he could in his position to gather the pillows up to prop his head up with, aided by one arm behind his head, so he could watch what Eskel was doing with hungry eyes - that Geralt laid back and relaxed even as his arousal laid heavy against his stretched out thigh, still dripping precum, still wanting the touch it was now denied as Eskel was busy elsewhere.

Meant the world to him that Geralt let him do this. Let him take the reins and work him open, slipping two fingers in now as he peppered more kisses anywhere he could reach, bending down to kiss at the back of the thigh he held tight to stretch his hips wider.

When he finally had two fingers fully in him, he let Geralt move just enough to rock into them. He loved feeling Geralt clench around them and hear him groan at the connection - though, he suspected it was more how full he felt than the connection itself, given the heady sound of it. That didn’t stop Eskel’s heart from feeling just as full; he had to bite his lip to stop from getting too emotional over this, just like usual. Something about being with Geralt like this always made him turn into such a sap it was nearly embarrassing. He was just grateful Lambert would never catch wind of any of this, to at least spare him the constant embarrassment and teasing over getting teary eyed over making love.

At least Geralt had either not ever noticed or was choosing to ignore the sap that bubbled up and threatened to spill over. Eskel crooked his fingers and felt them drag across Geralt’s inner walls, drawing a low moan out of him, flicking his gaze up to quirk an eyebrow at the hand that inched towards Geralt’s cock.

“I’ll get to it,” he promised, searching around with his two fingers. “Let me take care of you.”

The hand paused, and Eskel continued his searching. It took a little while, perhaps a minute or so, but he wasn’t in any rush - but when he finally found that bundle of nerves he rubbed against it firmly, feeling Geralt suddenly clench around him with a much louder moan this time, his thigh clenching again and his breaths hitching.

Eskel had to shift about, feeling a little uncomfortable, the scent getting to him and making his own prick leak. He’d never been much of a leaker, finding it actually a little difficult to get to that point of arousal, but it dribbled out onto his thigh then and made his skin itch. But he ignored the urge to wipe it off, pulling his fingers out to the tips so he could press in with a third, feeling some resistance as he did. Not enough that it wouldn’t give but enough for him to watch Geralt’s face as he worked all three in, making sure there wasn’t any discomfort there - but the furrowing of his brow didn’t have anything to do with pain, just impatience, the urge to seek out pleasure but the knowledge that he had to be patient and wait.

It was almost cute, how frustrated Geralt could get over sex. Cute enough to earn him some more kisses, Eskel even dipping down to press one nice and firm against the side of his shaft, peppering more all the way up to swipe the precum up with his tongue.

There it was. That hand back in his hair, fingers running through his locks and making his eyes flutter closed as it gently grasped a handful at the back of his head. He hadn’t meant to just yet but he slipped Geralt’s cock back into his mouth at the feel of them, loosening up to take his entire length in, letting his nose rest in a nest of white curls and he just stayed there. Jaw slack, tongue pressed against the length of him, fingers moving while his head stayed still and he just listened and felt.

Every once in a while, he had to swallow, not wanting to drool all over his love. He worked him open and listened to him moan, listened to his hitching breaths and his heart beat faster and faster. When at last four fingers worked in and out of him with little effort Eskel decided that was enough, that he was decently stretched and wouldn’t hurt from them joining - not that Eskel had much to worry about there. His own prick wasn’t as thick as Geralt’s, rather modest in size and girth, which made it much easier to stretch him appropriately beforehand. Much faster than the other way around, when their norm had been Geralt inside of him, one reason Eskel had never quite understood the societal embarrassment over smaller pricks.

As he positioned himself closer, not wanting to pull Geralt down from his comfy position propped up on the pillows, he hitched both of his legs up to wrap them around his hips. Geralt helped pull him closer and squeezed him gently between his thick thighs as Eskel took himself in hand, guiding his prick towards that well stretched hole and gently grinding it between his cheeks.

“Fuck, wait.” Eskel paused, looking here and there, not immediately spotting what he was after. Which earned him an impatient growl but he just soothed a hand over Geralt’s stomach and ignored the bucking of his hips, finally spotting and grabbing the previously abandoned oil - which he had thankfully remembered to cap before it had been tossed recklessly to the side. At least it had also stayed within arm’s reach. He poured a generous amount into his palm before stroking himself a few times, squeezing just because he could, making sure he was oiled up nicely before guiding himself back to where his love wanted him.

He slipped in with ease, pushing passed that ring of tight muscles and shuddering at the feel of it squeezing around the tip of his prick. When he showed signs of stopping there to enjoy it a moment Geralt pushed back onto him, pulling him closer with his crossed ankles, and Eskel huffed in amusement but obeyed. It didn’t take long before he was fully inside of him, feeling him contracting around him in pleasure, Geralt’s eyes closed and his back arching ever so slightly off of the bed as he enjoyed their joining.

Eskel could not have found a better home than here, where he was. His own breaths shuddered, head dropping as he closed his eyes and took it in. The warmth that spread through him had little to do with the sexual pleasure and everything to do with how close they were. How impossibly close, but never close enough. Suddenly he needed to be closer, needed to have his arms around his love- Eskel moved them around until he was laying against Geralt’s chest, worming his arms underneath him to hug him tight, feeling Geralt’s thighs squeeze around him as he did.

Eyes shut tight, Eskel buried his nose against Geralt, letting it all wash over him and melting the second he felt those strong arms envelope him right back. One hand flat against his back, the other in his hair, scratching at his scalp and cradling his head with such care.

He breathed. That’s all he could do then, as they were, closer now than ever before. He felt wrapped up tight and safe in that moment, and felt complete, like the warmth in his chest would never go away. It felt like the cumulation of all he’d ever wanted each and every time he took such care of his love, what he’d always been chasing every time he wrapped his lips around his prick or felt how warm Geralt was around his fingers.

All of it had led to this, feeling impossibly close and complete now with him. Like they trusted and loved each other like no other could, the intimacy of it all making the corners of his eyes wet with emotion.

“You alright?”

He cracked his eyes open, peeking up through thankfully dry eyelashes at the gentlest of tones. Concern was written on the downpull of Geralt’s frown but Eskel tugged one of his hands free, reaching up to sooth it away with the rough pad of his thumb.

“‘M fine.” He pressed his hips closer and shifted just enough to feel their connection, sighing into it. “I just...love you.”

It sounded lame to his own ears, but mercifully Geralt didn’t tease him over it. He kissed his thumb instead, a softness taking over his expression then as he rubbed gentle circles into his back and held him closer.

“Love you too.” He shifted as well, a noise escaping his throat as his now trapped prick rubbed against Eskel’s stomach. “But can the cuddling come later? After?”

Eskel kissed the pectoral he’d been burying his nose into, humming thoughtfully. “Didn’t think you a cuddler, Geralt. Wonder what your bard would do with that knowledge.”

He got bucked for that tease, breaking the softness that had overcome him and replacing it with warm humor. To say Geralt had been patient with him would have been a lie but he had allowed him this much so far; the least Eskel could do was help him come, and then get on with his soggy emotional cuddling.

It still took a lot out of him to peel himself off of Geralt enough to be able to continue on like he wanted. He had also gone a little soft in his emotions, though he knew it wouldn’t take too long to remedy that - a few rocks of his hips brought most of the interest back, tingles of pleasure working their way through him, deep inhales through his nose letting his brain go a little foggy with the scent of oil and sex about them. Since Geralt had had plenty of time to get used to him, the glide of his prick in and out of his arse was smooth, allowing a nice amount of friction to have them both letting out small noises.

Chasing his own arousal had never really mattered to him, but helping Geralt build up his own sounded quite delightful. Especially so with how Geralt laid himself out so beautifully for him, one arm back behind his head so he could take in what Eskel was doing to him, for him, the other reaching down to take one of Eskel’s hands. His heart skipped in his chest as their fingers laced together, his hips starting a steady rhythm.

He hadn’t found quite the right position yet, though. That bundle of nerves was evading him; Eskel frowned in concentration, feeling the scars on his face pull at the movement, searching for it as he tilted his hips here and there. And he knew the moment he found it because it jerked a moan out of the both of them, Geralt bucking and clenching tightly around him as his eyes squeezed tight and his back arched upward.

Yes, he quite liked helping Geralt find pleasure. He did his best to aim for that spot, knowing Geralt liked it hit dead on - he himself usually preferred a light touch there, not really caring for how brightly it took over his brain when it was impacted so directly - and doing his best to do that for him. Like always it wasn’t a perfect thing, his cock slipping out once and he had to unlace their fingers to guide himself back in while Geralt hissed at his absence, clenching around air and telling him quite clearly how he needed his cock, needed to feel full, full of him.

Soon, Eskel felt the telltale signs of his own orgasm nearing. A coil in the pit of his gut clenching and needing release, his breaths coming quicker, his heart joining the symphony of fast breaths and skin hitting skin in his ears. Geralt’s neglected cock lay against his stomach in a pool of pre, begging to be touched, and Eskel reached for it then, dragging Geralt’s hand with his own by their laced fingers.

With both of their hands gripped tight around Geralt’s cock, gliding easy with the help of his precum and the oil that had kept Eskel’s hand slick, it did not take long for Geralt’s movements to become jerky. His eyes squeezed shut, jaw tight but mouth slightly open, the only sounds coming out of him now being his shuddering breaths. A few more jerks of their hands and he exhaled sharply, come spurting out as Eskel fucked him through his orgasm, swallowing back his own moan at the feel of it hitting Geralt and making him contract almost painfully around him.

This time, Eskel felt his need far too heavily to think of stopping himself. His hips stuttered and words fell out from between his lips, incoherent things that slipped out as pleasure washed over him as well, his spend soon dripping out from Geralt as he slowed and finally stopped altogether.

It took effort to not drop down on top of him. Eskel stretched his back and groaned at a pop, then lowered himself onto his love, not caring that they were covered in sweat and spend - and Geralt didn’t care either, wrapping his arms around him to tug him close and placing kisses to the top of his head.

Eskel did his best to not slip out of him, pressing them close as he burrowed himself right back into his love’s chest, feeling that warmth spread through him yet again. He was home in his arms, wrapped up safe and warm, and if he had any say in the matter he would not be leaving anytime soon.

“I love you.” It meant the world to him that he was allowed to say it, to whisper it against that sweaty chest, to press lazy and lingering kisses there as he wished. But it meant a whole world more to hear the words right back and feel fingers trace nonsensical patterns into his hair and skin, the day carrying on outside of their room as they found peace within each other.

#geskel #geralt #eskel #the witcher #fanfiction #mywriting #lemony #ace!eskel #i love them your honor #also ow ow ow someone plz save my fingies T^T

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thepaperpanda · 3 years

Text

Bringing the Christmas Spirit Back || Heartman x Reader

Summary: When the Christmas spirit is long gone for humanity, Heartman tries to restore it.

Warnings: none

Words: 2711

Authors: Cass & Bear

Yawning loudly you walked out to the main room of Heartman's lab.

You didn't expect anything to be different because why would it be?

To your own surprise there was a big christmas tree in the middle of the room, it was made of plastic. "Uhm... What is that?," You asked, walking closer to inspect the colorful baubles and other decorations.

“Well, now that you're awake, I have to tell you that we ran out of earl gray,” Heartman stepped into the room, almost jumping off four little stairs. “Hi, gorgeous,” he placed a brief kiss on your cheek and stood right next to the christma tree. “I’ve printed it with a 3D printer, what do you think?,” He asked, being obviously proud of himself. “I thought that we could have restored some of the old traditions. That we could have brought some of the Christmas spirit, to gain some kind of mood improvement.”

"I forgot you don't sleep with me in bed. You have a lot of time to do these things," you said with a smile and rubbed your eyes, trying your best to wipe the sleep off them. "It's a good idea but I don't think it will ever be the same, and about the tea, I will check later what else we need, and then I will do a bigger order."

“Sam won’t be happy,” Heartman let out a proper laugh. “It’s going to be our… Fourteenth order over the past two weeks,” He took his glasses off to wipe them using a kerchief he held in his back pocket.

"The fifteenth order, sweetie. I checked the records last evening before the bed. I have no idea what you ordered behind my back but I know you did," you sighed, tapping his shoulder. "Let's hope they will send some other poor soul and not our Sam."

“Well, actually, I wouldn’t mind them sending Sam, I have a few questions for him,” Heartman put his glasses back on. “Now, you look much better than the second before when your figure was blurry,” he sent you a grin and in the same moment his AED beeped a few times. “Ah, shit. We’ll continue our deep conversation in 3 minutes, okay? Meantime, be a good girl and make me a strong coffee, and don’t forget I like it bitter.”

You giggled and nodded. "Okay, I will also make some breakfast while in the kitchen."

After kissing his cheek you went to the bedroom to quickly grab your glasses before heading to the kitchen. Then you started preparing the hot drinks.

After exactly 3 minutes, Heartman’s AED brought him back to life with a strong, electric impulse. It took him a few seconds to gain his thoughts. “I hate this,” he muttered to himself and before he got up from the cot, he had written some things in his online journal, using his fingers to do so.

At that point you were putting plates with breakfast onto the table. Toasts for both of you, coffee for him, and green tea for you.

Letting out a quiet sigh, you started looking through all the cabinets and shelves. "I think I have everything," you muttered to yourself.

Heartman walked into the little dining room shortly after, he instantly took his seat. “Thanks,” he sent you a smile and started eating. “What are you looking for? Tell me, and I’ll tell you where you’ll be able to find it.”

"No, no. It's okay, I already know what I need," you informed him and quickly took your seat right in front of him. "You really want to bring back a bit of the Christmas spirit to these dark days, huh?"

"Yes, whenever possible," he replied and took a bite of his toast. He chewed and sipped on his coffee. "Yeah, that's what I needed."

"Glad you liked it," you smiled at him, taking a sip of your tea.

After break Heartman returned to his work. Meantime, you checked and listed all the stuff you needed before placing an order with a little message for Sam.

After making sure your beloved man was busy with work, you quickly returned to the kitchen, locking the door. "Let's see if I still remember how to do this."

Maybe it was a silly idea but since Heartman wanted to bring back Christmas, it was worth a shot.

An hour and a half had passed and you finally left the kitchen. Of course he didn't notice you weren't around for the longer moment.

"Sweetie. I have something for you!"

There was no response from Heartman.

He was dead, again.

The chiral matter in his hourglass almost filled the bottom part which meant he was about to get back within the blink of an eye.

Sighing, you took a seat on the leather couch, waiting for him to return.

Another electric impulse made its way through Heartman's body, and the man jerked in his place regaining consciousness. "Y/N, did you say something?"

You nodded. "I called you but I was a bit too late to catch you. Glad to see you back, come here. I have a Christmas gift for you."

"A Christmas gift? For me?," He blinked and didn't even try to hide his consternation as he got up. "I didn't expect anything like this but I won't lie, I can't wait to see what you got for me!"

You laughed. "Be a good man and open your mouth, eyes closed," you hummed with a smile. It was a little revenge for some test you had to do for him in the past.

At first he blinked hearing your command. Then, he laughed loudly. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but as much as I love you, I don't hold an ounce of confidence in your actions," he joked, referring to that one particular time when you asked him to obey your words only to prank him.

You rolled your eyes. "Trust me this one time. You won't regret it, I swear on the bond between us," you said, placing your hand over your heart.

"I'm Heartman and my heart is already skipping a beat out of fear of what you've planned," he smirked but closed his eyes and parted his lips slightly. "I just want to warn you that if you'll try to feed me with chiral matter cookies, you'll regret the day you were born."

You sighed and put a regular chocolate chip cookie between his lips. "Here. I hope I didn't burn them... And that they are good. I can't remember when I baked these for the last time."

He chewed and then issued an opinion. "I like the flavour, the cookie was not too sweet yet not too bitter, too. You've added a perfectly measured amount of cocoa, the cookie had a tempting smell, too," Heartman stated. "I only lack some tiny ounce of ginger and honey but I know that it's extremely hard to get those."

You looked at him, listening to his every word. It wasn't exactly the opinion you expected. "But... Do you like it? Before this all happened I used to make them for Christmas."

"Do I like it? I love it, Y/N," Heartman replied. "If not for the fact I'm on a forever diet to stay in shape, I'd eat a tone of these!"

"Oh, in such a case the whole jar of cookies wasn't a great idea," you giggled, rubbing your hand awkwardly. "Sorry."

He sent you a smile. "I knew you'll surprise me, honey. But before I'll die again today, let me take you somewhere. While you'd been sleeping, I prepared something small," he claimed and got up from the cot, offering you his shoulder.

You blinked confused but nodded, taking his arm. "Shall I be worried?"

Heartman didn't reply but took you out of his laboratory. "Put your coat on," he advised. “By my side you don’t have to be worried.”

You nodded and put on your coat just like he advised you. Just to be safe you also slipped on your warm boots. "Okay. I am ready... I think."

He put his long, black coat on as well and led you outside of his facility.

Heartman stopped with you on the threshold of his outpost, being still under awning. "There," he pointed on the left. "Do you see him?"

You rubbed your eyes, trying to get used to the brightness of the snow. Frowning you looked in the direction he pointed. "Is it…? Wait! Is it a snowman?"

"Yes, it is. I called it the Death Stranding Snowman. He looks like a regular one but, if you'll take a closer look, you can see he had the Odradek and backpack, just like porters do."

You giggled and nodded. "I can see that and I love it. I bet that Sam will love it as soon as he sees it. I am glad we live in a place like this actually, the Death Stranding Snowman will be with us longer due to low temperature."

"Correct. And, also," he pointed his index finger up, right above your heads.

A plastic mistletoe hung on a tiny string attached to awning. "Maybe we can just have a little sneaky kiss under this mistletoe? It’s a tradition, isn’t it though?"

You looked up at the mistletoe and laughed shortly. "Oh, you really got prepared while I was sleeping, huh?," You asked with a cocky smile.

"Less talking, more doing," he muffled your voice with his lips crushing on yours.

You hummed and kissed him back, placing your hands against his chest.

After a moment you pulled away to catch your breath.

"Mmmm, that was something, Y/N," Heartman let out a hum of appreciation as his left palm was placed to your cheek where he gently brushed his thumb over your skin. "Ah! Just look at that! Sam's faster than I expected!"

In the distance you could spot a little cloud of snow rising into the air. Sam Porter Bridges was riding his bike right to your outpost.

You blinked and looked at the cloud of snow, giggling. "Oh, yes, he is, I still wonder how he is riding this thing through all the snow," you tapped Heartman's chest. "I will go pack him some cookies for the road and you get inside before you run out of time."

Heartman decided to wait for Sam to approach.

When the other man got off his motorcycle and took all the packages, Heartman waved at him, still standing at the threshold of his outpost. "Sam Bridges! It's good to see you!"

Sam didn't reply, only nodded his head while climbing up the stairs. By his way he turned head aside and stopped, looking at the snowman. “Seriously?,” He questioned loudly enough for Heartman to hear. “Whose idea it was?”

Soon you joined both men. "Hello Sam, it's good to see you," you said with a smile and looked at Heartman, frowning. "I think I told you to get inside, huh?"

"Easy, Y/N, I put this little thing on mute," he patted his AED a few times. “Idea for the snowman was totally mine. I’m thinking about getting similar sculptures to other Bridges locations, not necessarily made of snow but rather printed in Chiral Printers. We should consider bringing Christmas spirit all over America.”

Sam scoffed Heartman’s words. “It’s not feasible as not all cities are in the network.” Sam was glaring at him, then he moved his glance to you. "Another order, huh? Are you opening a canteen or something? How is it possible for two people to use all of the supplies in a week?"

"You kidding me right? I am not going to drag you back inside," uou muttered, completely annoyed with Heartman’s weird habit of muting the AED, so you simply unmuted the device.

"And it stays like this, sweetie," you said and turned your attention back to Sam. "Trust me, Sam, I have no idea what he is doing when I am asleep but our supplies melts like snow in the sun. I am so sorry for the trouble."

With cocked brows Sam observed you and your little outburst of anger towards Heartman. "Yeah," he summed the situation up. Next moment he simply gestured at you and Heartman to slide aside. "I need to deliver these," he pointed at packages on his back.

"Oh! Yes, right! Go to the terminal and then bring stuff inside," you instructed him and looked at Heartman. "We will be there."

Heartman got back inside and took his coat as soon as he crossed the threshold of his laboratory.

Soon, Sam joined you. He cringed at the very beginning after stepping in, when he spotted stuffed BTs with Christmas hats on. "The fuck...," He grunted to himself.

"Heartman wants to bring back the Christmas spirit. In some way at least," you said looking at Sam from the couch and pointed at the big christmas tree. "BT in christmas hats aren't the only decorations here."

Sam stopped at the top of four little stairs. "Yeah. I thought that you're not this type of guy because just like you claimed, you’re being dead inside," he summed up and got downstairs, putting the packages aside.

"Well, you can see how much one person can change," you summed up getting up from the couch to walk up to Sam. "Here, since it's Christmas time. I have a little gift for you, I hope you will like it," you smiled at him, giving him a little bag of cookies.

At first he hesitated to accept the little bag with cookies but soon he took it. "Thank you, Y/N."

Heartman was laying on his cot. "Was nice to see you again, Sam. Thank you for bringing us all of the necessary things so quickly. You're simply the best porter."

Sam nodded and grunted something under his breath only to turn around and got up the little stairs. "If only all BTs would be that cute," he pointed at two stuffed creatures.

You giggled and nodded. "If all BTs were like these ones, the world wouldn't be that scary. Thank you so much for coming, Sam. Have a good trip."

Several minutes passed since the moment Sam left you. Heartman was getting ready for another cardiac arrest when his intercom bipped, so the man frowned a little. “Do we expect any guests, Y’N?”

You looked at him with a frown and shook your head.

Of course you didn't expect any guests, it's not like the good, old times when people could just visit friends randomly. It was a bit more complicated these days. "No, I do not and even if I did, I would inform you. Did you invite anyone?"

He shook his head for no and got up. Heartman left his lab and went to the glazed entrance where the terminal was located. “Y’N, it’s Sam, come over here!”

You even didn't bother to pull on the coat and joined Heartman, wearing your regular clothes.

"Sam? Is everything okay?"

"Yes!," Sam yelled from the distance. "I improved your snowman, Heartman!"

Heartman looked at you, frowning. "What is he talking about?," He asked and opened the main door to step slightly outside. The timefall stopped so Heartman simply got out of the building. "Y/N, you need to see this!"

You were completely confused about what was going on. You followed Heartman to look at the improved snowman.

The snowman had now one hand made of some plastic garbage Heartman found in his laboratory when the other one was made of snow, with middle finger up in the air. Next to the snowman there was a line of text scrawled in the snow. Fuck Higgs and his terrorists!, the inscription stated. Heartman lifted his hand up and gave a thumb up to Sam. “100 likes for this piece of art, Sam!”

You gave Sam a thumb down. "And minus 50 likes from me. I preferred the previous snowman," you said but giggled.

“You have no idea about modern art, Y/N!,” Sam yelled back and got onto his vehicle to roll down the hill.

“What? I like this anti-Monaghan version,” Heartman shrugged and wrapped arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get back inside. There are some handmade cookies left.”

#heartman #heartman x reader #death stranding #sam porter bridges #sam porter bridges x heartman #sam porter bridges x reader #christmas #heartman fic #death stranding fic #higgs monaghan mentioned #kojima productions #ds heartman

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impala-dreamer · 4 years

Text

Two Weeks Notice - Day Eight

~With the world practicing self-isolation, Y/N and Dean break all the rules of social distancing and common decency as they explore an empty bunker and use the time alone to their playful advantage…~

Dean x Reader

3,575 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Toy Play. Edging. Remote Control Vibe. Dom!Dean. Sir!Kink. Sex in an uncomfortable place (not the back of a volkswagen).

Two Weeks Notice Masterlist ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon ~ My Original Works on Amazon

Y/N stood at the side of the bed and checked the time on her phone again, deciding enough was enough.

Very slowly, she slid into bed beside Dean and curled up next to him, tucking her knees and hands against her chest. She was careful not to touch him, not wanting him to wake just yet. She stared for a while, like she loved to do, attempting for the thousandth time to count every freckle on his sleeping face. She never made it past thirty before he either woke to disrupt her or she got so distracted by his beauty that she lay into kissing him instead.

She interrupted herself this time, too excited not to rouse him. With the tip of her index finger, Y/N softly traced the line of his nose from bridge to tip and then again as she whispered his name.

“Dean…”

He wriggled his nose and huffed. “I’m asleep.”

She laughed under her breath and ran her finger over his nose again. “Time to get up.”

He groaned and jerked his head to the side, trying to swat her away. “You promised me a nap.”

“And nap you did. It’s nearly three. Get up.” She leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose. She meant to hop out of bed immediately after, but Dean’s reflexes were quick, and he grabbed her arm, yanking her down for a proper kiss.

His arm locked her to him, clamping down and around the small of her back like a gate closing. He moaned into her mouth, leisurely licking at her gasping lips, and Y/N felt the stir of desire ready to distract her fully.

“Nope!” She pushed him back and sat up, quickly shaking off the shiver of need.

Dean popped up as well. “Excuse me?” His forehead creased adorably as he questioned her departure.

Y/N crossed her arms. “I have plans for today.”

Dean groaned and fell back against his pillow. “You always have plans.”

Offended, Y/N pushed at his nearest shoulder and damn near rolled him out of bed. “We can stop anytime you want. Just sit here and stare at the walls for another week.”

Dean sighed. “Fine.”

“Don’t fucking sigh at fucking. What’s wrong with you, old man?”

He half turned, glaring over his shoulder at her.

“Stop being grumpy and go get the blue box from under my bed.”

“You get it.”

Y/N swiftly removed her shirt and tossed it in his face. “You get it.”

Dean rubbed a tired hand down his face and sat up, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. “Why do you need your photos now?”

“Photos are in the green box,” she corrected. “I want the blue box. It’s towards the headboard next to the hatchet.”

He paused, hand on the doorknob. “Why do you have a hatchet under your bed?”

Y/N shrugged and settled into the pillows. “Grimes Protocol.”

Dean laughed and shook his head as he stepped into the hallway. “The Walking Dead isn’t real, Y/N!”

Grinning, she shimmied out of her panties. “You don’t know what this Corona-thing is gonna do! I’d rather be safe than dead!”

Her room wasn’t very far and even if it was, with the empty hallway, it was easy enough to talk through the space between. His voice was a little muffled by the distance, but Y/N could just picture his face.

“Holy crap!”

“Pick one!”

“What do you mean pick one?”

Y/N sat up and pushed her voice towards the open door. “I mean, pick one and get back here with it!”

“Can I pick two?”

She chewed her lip for a moment. She knew what was in the box and would not be opposed to him using more than one at a time. Not at all.

Before she could reply, Dean yelled, “Hey, what’s this pink squiggly thing?”

Her eyes lit up and her nipples hardened with excitement. “Bring it!”

The ‘pink squiggly thing’ was an internal, remote controlled vibrator, and one of Y/N’s favorite toys. Dean was a little annoyed that she had never shared the contents of her toy box with him, and thus decided to use the remote control app to his advantage, in a little game that he was making up as he was going along.

For the rest of the day, Y/N was to wear the toy, and only the toy, as she went about her usual routine. There were plenty of chores to be done around the Bunker, and Y/N was going to do them all while Dean did whatever he wanted. The catch was simple: whenever she got buzzed, she would fall to her knees and crawl to wherever Dean was and service him in any way he chose. It was only fair.

After all, she had disturbed his nap.

There was something intensely erotic about walking around the Bunker naked. Dean had been nice enough to let her wear socks, as the floors were always cold, but the rest of her was completely bare, on display for the ghosts that haunted the tiles.

Of course, there weren’t really any ghosts, but as she walked down the halls, she imagined the Men of Letters of old gasping and clutching their hearts as they saw her defiling their sacred underground lair. Oh, how they’d lose their minds.

With a proud smile, she shook her hips a little more as she carried the laundry basket to the machine. Even under quarantine, socks must be washed.

As she set the basket down in front of the washer, she felt a wave of vibration deep inside her cunt. Her body stiffened and her muscles squeezed against it, momentarily blocking any brain function as the pleasure took her by surprise. When she could think, she immediately dropped to her knees on the cold tile and turned, ready to crawl to her newly appointed master.

Dean wasn’t far, leaning in the doorway with a smirk on his lips and his phone in hand. He swiped his finger across the app and the vibration intensified, making Y/N shiver as she crossed the room to sit at his feet.

“Very good!” he praised, resisting the urge to reach down and pat her head like a dog. He knew she liked to be degraded, but that would probably have earned him a hard flick in the nuts.

Y/N licked her lips and sat back on her heels, clenching her thighs as the buzzer kept doing its job. She looked up and smiled, waiting. “How may I service you, Dean?”

He hummed and dropped the intensity. “Dean,” he echoed. “Sounds so... informal.”

She bit back a smirk. “I’m sorry.” Clearing her throat and squeezing her tits together, she tried again. How may I service you, Mr. Winchester?”

“Better,” he said with a shrug, tapping his screen to make the buzzing pulse at a steady pace. “But...let’s try… Sir. I think I’d like to hear that.”

Y/N closed her eyes as a wave of pleasure overtook her momentarily. She’d been wanting to call him that forever, that and more, but it was an awkward conversation. However, if they were already playing, and he was offering…

“Yes, Sir,” she cooed, looking up at him and batting her eyes. “How may I service you?”

A smile broke out across his face. “Oh, I like the sound of that.” He cocked his head and looked her over, deciding where to start. “Why don’t you rub those pretty tits for me? I want to see how hard your nipples can get.”

Y/N bit her lip and nodded. “Yes, Sir.” Both hands cupped her breasts and she bounced them for him, watching as his eyes widened with delight. A few twists and tugs on her nipples had them standing tall and each tweak made her shoulders twitch.

When her breath began to get heavy and her eyes refused to open, Dean turned off the app and her vibrator and shoved his phone in his back pocket. “That’s all for now. Get back to work.”

Y/N’s eyes were huge as he spun on his heel and walked away, shocked that he was actually leaving her like that. “Fuck,” she whispered to herself as she climbed to her feet. “It’s gonna be a long day.”

Dean was in the Library when Y/N walked in with her duster. She and Sam had a routine worked out where she knocked the dust onto the floor and he mopped it up. Seemed sort of silly for her to be reaching up so high when he was so tall already, but she figured the boys liked watching her climb and stretch and bend.

Dean was certainly appreciating it now. He pretended to read a book, something he had grabbed from the shelf without looking at the spine as he jumped into the armchair to beat her into the room, but his eyes were glued to Y/N’s bare ass as she fluttered around the room, cleaning.

As she dusted, she hummed to herself. It was a sweet familiar melody, something that Dean felt had a Disney ring to it. He smiled and gave up the ruse, closing the book in his lap and resting his chin in his hand, elbow on the arm of the chair.

Her nakedness stood out starkly against the stacks of books; she looked like a faerie floating about, whipping away dust with her feathery wings.

“So this is love...do do do do... so this is love…” Y/N made her way through the Library, flicking away every drop of dust and totally ignoring Dean. She could feel his eyes on her body, following wherever she went, but she kept her mind on her task. When she felt that she’d done enough, she looked around, hands on her naked hips, and nodded. “Very nice.”

Another swoosh of feathers against the nearest shelf and she took off, heading into the next room. As her foot hit the bottom stop, her vibrating bat signal went off.

Taken so by surprise, the feather duster fell from her hand like an angel falling from heaven. “Oh my…” She moaned at the violent pulsing against her g-spot and sank to her knees, slowly turning towards Dean.

His eyes were dark and mischievous as he controlled the toy, thumb sliding back and forth across the screen, mucking with the intensity and speed of the vibrations. With his free hand, he crooked a finger at her and puckered his lips, calling to her with two quick air kisses. “Here, kitty, kitty.”

Y/N crawled to him, hands and knees flat on the polished floor, bare ass high and open for any eyes that would have a week ago been passing by. She shivered at the thought and bit her lip, holding in a tiny moan of weakness as Dean drove the toy to its highest setting.

As she grew closer, he let her stimulation ebb, slowly subsiding to a light and steady wave. She sank down further, laying on her forearms, panting slightly as she looked up at him.

Dean set the book down on the end table next to him and leaned forward, clasping his hands, elbows on his knees. “Hey there,” he grinned, body tingling with the power he held over her. “How ya feelin’?”

Almost out of breath, Y/N looked up, stretching her neck awkwardly to meet his gaze. “I’m pretty fucking horny, actually.”

Dean laughed and licked his lips. He scooted to the edge of the chair so he was even closer to her and whispered, “Is your pussy nice and wet?”

His voice ran down her spine like fire, and she nodded. “Very wet, Sir.”

He tapped his upper lip with one finger and then sat back, getting comfortable. “So play with it,” he ordered casually, resting one hand on his right thigh, watching.

Y/N swallowed hard and sat up, spreading her knees wide as she rested on her heels. One hand fell behind her, palm flat on the cold floor as the other slid down her belly and tapped gently on her clit. She bit her lip as the pleasure rolled through her; the vibe inside, her hand on her clit, it was all breathtaking and delicious.

Dean watched on as she rubbed, fiddling now and then with the controls. He loved the tremble in the soft flesh of her thighs; the way she began to bounce as if on his cock as she got closer to cumming. He kept a closer eye on that edge, making sure she rode it as long as possible without tipping over. When her stomach tightened too much, he eased up on the vibrations. When her panting ceased, he turned it up. When her eyes began to roll and her jaw hung slack, letting out heated moans, he cut the power, turning the toy off completely.

“Wha-hey!” Y/N’s eyes popped open and she pouted, near to tears as she was denied once more.

“Hands off, Princess,” he told her, clearing his throat and picking up his book. Dean crossed one leg and turned to a random page, tearing his eyes from Y/N’s shivering body. “Get back to work.”

She grumbled to herself as she struggled to her feet, using a nearby chair for help. “You suck.”

Dean lifted a brow, but not his head. “What’s that?”

“Nothing…”

Dinner came and went with Y/N still naked, sitting at the table on a dishcloth. Dean let her be for a while, keeping his phone and the app safely tucked in his pocket. She had even gotten used to being naked in the open. It felt sexy, freeing, if not a little chilly now and then.

Somehow, Dean managed to keep his hands off of her the entire day, not even accidentally brushing against her or playing footsie under the table. Nothing stopped him from looking, however, and he spent his quiet time memorizing the curves and movements that he never got to see in the dark. She was perfectly imperfect, just like him.

After dinner, Dean disappeared, leaving Y/N alone to do the dishes and clean up. She’d just about finished putting the utensils away when her page went off, sending jolts of pleasure through her body.

“Fuck.” She turned around, but Dean wasn’t in the room with her. “Dean?”

There was no answer, but the buzzing increased. Y/N dropped to her knees and crawled quickly from the kitchen, wondering where he’d gotten to and hoping the remote didn’t have too long of a range.

“Dean?” she called again to no response, growing more aroused and annoyed as the stunt went on. She’d have to crawl the entire Bunker looking for him if he didn’t answer. Her knees were starting to protest as she toddled up the steps into the War Room, but the pulsing in her cunt took some of the edge off.

“Where the hell are you?”

“Tisk. Tisk.” His voice boomed through the giant room, her toy speeding up as he scolded her. “Mind your manners, missy.”

Still on her hands and knees, Y/N looked around the War Room, unable to find him anywhere. He was a disembodied voice teasing her from another world.

“Dean, come on…”

“You need to crawl to me,” he said loudly, “that was the deal.”

She gasped as he pushed the toy to its limit. “Yeah but...where- fuck- are you?”

Y/N teetered on her knees as Dean laughed at her predicament. She crawled on, moving towards the table.

“Warmer.”

Biting her lip, she listened to his echoing directions, crawling closer to the table. When she reached it, the buzzing subsided enough to catch her breath, and she turned towards the Library archway.

“Colder!”

Y/N spun back and continued through the room. As she neared the stairs, the vibrations increased and Dean guided her home.

“Hot.”

Slowly, she sat back on her feet and looked up the long metal staircase.

Dean waved and grinned smugly from his seat at the chess set on the balcony. “Boiling.”

Y/N’s hands instinctively flew to her hips. “Are you kidding me?”

With a swipe of his finger, Dean upped the pleasure and Y/N fell back down into crawling position.

“Imma kill you.”

Dean laughed. “I don’t think that’s likely.”

One step at a time, Y/N climbed, fingers curling into the ornate grates, knees pushing into the smooth metal. It was cold and hard but she managed, keeping her mind in the gutter, comforted and fueled by the intimate pleasure of her favorite toy, controlled by her favorite asshat.

Dean hid his surprise well when she reached him, figuring Y/N would have given up halfway up the winding staircase. “Welcome,” he teased, lowering the speed. “Nice of you to join me.”

She was panting already, out of breath from her climb. “Nice of you to pick such an easily accessible location.”

Her sass was vibrant and Dean bit his lip, grinning.

“How’s your sweet little cunt doing?” he asked, tip of his tongue pressing between his teeth.

Y/N shivered. “It’s...good.”

“Just good?” His thumb waved over the controls, brushing the toggle back and forth.

“V-very good.”

Dean let her linger in that moment of fluctuating pleasure and sat back, opening his jeans while he watched her twitch. He set the control to a setting called “fireworks” and lay his phone down, taking his cock in his hands instead. He stroked it slowly while the explosions went off inside her pussy.

“What does it feel like?” he asked, lips puckering as he jerked his cock.

Eyes closed and lips shaking, Y/N shook her head, unable to find an answer. “Like...like you’re drumming inside me. Like lightning… like… fuck- I don’t know.” Her eyes popped open and locked on his erection, mouth flooding at the sight.

Dean smirked. “Do you want it?”

She nodded.

“Tell me where.”

She chewed her lip hard, brows furrowing tight, chest heaving. “I…”

Dean fisted his cock, squeezing at the base. “Tell me where you want it.”

“In my pussy,” she begged, chin quivering, near to tears. “Please, Dean. I need you to fuck me so bad.”

“Yeah?”

“Please!”

“Get up here.”

Moaning with relief, Y/N jumped up into his lap, kissing him wildly as his hands locked around her back. She licked into his mouth, bit at his ear, sucked his lip between her teeth. She’d been too crazed all day, too desperate to hold back any longer. She felt his cock against her belly and bounced, rubbing her throbbing clit against his veiny underside.

Dean grunted. His blunt nails dug into her ass.

“Fuck me, Dean.”

Her whisper floated through him and he grabbed her tight, standing up and spinning, dropping her onto the empty chess set. She gasped but settled quickly, wiggling into place on the oversized antique gameboard. He dropped his jeans, letting them collect around the tops of his boots and then reached down to yank the still vibrating toy from her cunt.

Y/N cried out as the toy dislodged, a flood of hot built-up slick running down her ass as it went. “Fuck!”

“I’m getting to it!” Dean huffed back, tossing the toy over his shoulder. It hit the railing and disappeared down below, to be remembered only by a faint buzzing as it danced across the glowing table.

Y/N grabbed hold of the back of his neck and scooted down to the edge of the board, wrapping her legs tight around him. He sank inside without hesitation or restriction, covering himself in her wet flesh, hiding deep inside.

It was fast and hard, the way she came on his cock; her pussy clamping down on him as he thrust in and out. Hours of torture, being played with and edged had left her a sloppy mess, and Dean savored every second. He kissed her breathless, keeping his eyes open so he could watch hers roll. He nipped at her collarbone and rubbed at her clit.

She had been waiting all day, but so had he.

The pawns and bishops rolled inside the table, safe in their velvet cubbies. The pink toy died a slow death, battery draining somewhere around South America.

Above the empty Bunker, not far from the big steel door, Dean made her cum again, rolling her first orgasm into another, his thumb winding around her clit until she screamed at the soreness, slapping him away.

He set his hands beside her head, fingers curling around the edges of the old wood, pulling it close as his hips pushed forward. The thick muscles of his arms strained against his shortsleeves and Y/N pressed her nails deep into his biceps, clawing at him, her teeth grit, eyes dark and exhausted.

“Come on, Dean,” she urged, voice deep and cracking. “Give it to me, please.”

His jaw clenched, sweat beading on his upper lip and brow.

“Cum inside me, Dean. Please.”

Another rough jerk of his hips sent him over. Dean trembled over her, phantom thrusts pushing him even deeper as he emptied into her.

When the best had passed, he looked down with a goofy smile. Green eyes glazed, freckled cheeks bright, lips swollen and red as he laughed, “Checkmate.”

2020 Forever Tags:

@akshi8278 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @amanda-teaches @because-imma-lady-assface @broiderie @burningcoffeetimetravel @cheritzie @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @crashdevlin @deansotherotherblog @deansgirl215 @deanwanddamons @defenderrosetyler @dontshootmespence @feelmyroarrrr @focusonspn @hannahindie @herbologystudent252 @ilsawasanacrobat @justcallmeasmodeus @ladyjenny19 @laxe-from-outer-space @mariekoukie6661 @missjenniferb @msjava1972 @mylovelydame21 @mysticmaxie @pilaxia @sandlee44 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @squirrelnotsam @tatted-trina6 @typicalweirdbookworm

TWN:

@rebelemilu @pastathighs @deans-baby-momma @bobbie3939 @peachyafshawn @spencer-reids-babygirl @akrasiaev @shadowkat-83 @deangirl7695 @foxyjwls007 @bxbyizzy @chenshemesh1 @pandaxo79

#dean x reader #series #smuttt #fluff #dean winchester x reader

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mst3kproject · 3 years

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The Flame Barrier

I’ve got an awful lot of movies from 1958 on my resume, don’t I? Why is that? Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. Apparently it was just a bumper year for cheap, crappy black-and-white films. This one stars Kathleen Crowley from The Rebel Set and Rodd Redwing from The Mole People, in a movie written by George Worthing Yates, who also penned Earth vs the Spider. Also featuring a blob from outer space, with motives even less clear than the one in The Space Children.

Over yet another stock-footage rocket launch, one of those deep-voiced 50’s narrators informs us that there’s a layer of Earth’s atmosphere called the Flame Barrier which destroys everything it touches. This particular rocket was no exception, and its crash-landing in the Mexican jungle may be related to the disappearance of explorer Howard Dalman, whose wife Carol has now come looking for him. She seeks out a pair of prospectors, Dave and Matt Hollister, to guide her to his last known location. As they go deeper into the bush, they find they’re wandering into something unknown… something that can make men burst into flames!

This movie isn’t terrible. It’s not great, but it’s not irredeemably awful. It reminds me a lot of The Giant Gila Monster, in that there’s a story going on and it’s not a bad story per se, but it’s one that’s got nothing whatsoever to do with the title and premise that drew us to the film in the first place. When the supposed main plot pops up again at the end, it makes for a sudden and jarring shift.

The Flame Barrier starts off all right. We have the inevitable narrator to give us the backstory, and then it gets right on with meeting the characters. They’re introduced one by one, telling us their personalities and goals: Carol is naïve and spoiled but she’s trying her best, Matt is a drunk fool but he’s got a good heart, and Dave is a gruff, cynical realist who loves his brother but is tired of his bullshit. None of them are exactly nice people but you can see where they’re coming from, and they each get an arc. Carol struggles with whether she really loved Howard, whom she barely knew, and the movie allows her to toughen up and learn how to survive in the wilderness. Dave spends much of the movie being a jerk to Carol but eventually realizes he judged her too harshly and apologizes. Matt gets a chance to be a hero and takes it, believing that he owes it to Dave for never giving up on him. The writing is frequently unsubtle but the actors are competent, and these little stories work just fine.

The movie that surrounds them, however, is often very sloppy. The narrator tells us that the space probe from the opening crashed because ‘it unexpectedly lost its gravitational force’. What? What is that supposed to even mean? The narrator also tells us it’s been six months since Howard disappeared, then mere minutes later Carol says it’s been four. There’s a bit where Carol is menaced by an iguana… the creature is never actually in the shot with her, so they couldn’t find anything scarier? The stock wildlife footage on their trek through the soundstage sets of Central America includes hyenas. I can hear Crow saying, “boy, are we in Afri… wait a minute…” And, pet peeve, they describe a snake as poisonous instead of venomous.

This being a jungle movie, obviously there are ‘natives’. I think most of these are actual Mexicans, although Wikipedia says Rodd Redwing may have been from India (if so, I like to think his entire career in Westerns was based on just walking into casting directors’ offices and announcing he was ‘an Indian’, and letting them draw their own conclusions). Being as this is a movie from the fifties, the natives are there largely to provide a body count – white people aren’t allowed to die until the climax. To its credit, The Flame Barrier mostly (though not entirely) avoids the trope where the natives have interpreted the mysterious happenings as supernatural, leading the white characters to scoff at the whole thing. There is some of this, but Dave clearly knows these people well and respects their culture and their warnings.

Then there’s the love story. Obviously this is a movie, so Carol’s gotta fall for one or other of these idiots, but neither of the Hollister brothers is a good choice. Matt is sweet to her but he’s also a useless drunk who only has a job because his brother puts up with him. Dave spends eighty percent of the movie being an asshole and I have no idea what Carol sees in him. At least the two men never fight over her. I guess the love affair is important to the plot, because it spurs the party on to finish their search for the missing Howard Dalman despite the odds being stacked against them… but that basically boils down to Carol and Dave needing to be sure she’s a widow before they can bone.

After all this messing around in the jungle, with the run time half over we get to the plot, and the movie changes gears with an almost audible ka-chunk. Now we’ve got this space blob sitting in a cave (how did it get in there when it’s still attached to the rocket?) doubling in size every two hours, which must be destroyed before it can consume the entire earth! Suddenly we have a laboratory, because all the scientific equipment Howard brought with him is still in perfect condition despite having been sitting in the jungle for either four or six months. Suddenly Dave the rugged survivalist is a scientist and mathematician. It’s like they took the same actors and sets and started trying to make a totally different movie.

Honestly, I think this is more or less what happened. I think the multiplying space blob was the movie somebody originally wanted to make – it starts out as a tiny thing in a test tube, growing bigger and bigger until it consumes the whole building and will destroy the entire city if it isn’t stopped! That sounds like a pretty fun 50’s sci-fi movie in itself. It also, however, sounds like an expensive 50’s sci-fi movie, needing miniatures destroyed and screaming extras and other stuff The Flame Barrier just didn’t have the money for. Hence the need to spend so much time wandering around in the jungle swapping tragic backstories before the characters are allowed to get to that point.

The unfortunate thing about this is that the movie doesn’t really have time to get into the nature of its alien. In Spacemaster X-7, the Blood Rust was offscreen much of the time but we still had a good idea of what it was and of its capabilities, and the explanations we were given made a reasonable amount of sense. In The Flame Barrier, we’ve got this blob that apparently lives in the rarified and super-hot outer atmosphere (the writers seem to have confused Earth’s atmosphere with the Sun’s corona), but can also survive on the ground… and its effects are all over the place. Sometimes when things get too close to it, they’re just electrocuted and disintegrated, as happens to the rocket’s original passenger, a very young chimpanzee. Sometimes people get horribly burned and then burst into flames and are reduced to skeletons hours or days later, as keeps happening to the natives. And then there’s Howard, who somehow managed to get close enough to be swallowed up by the thing and his corpse is still completely intact inside it.

None of this makes any sense. If the blob has that protective electrocution barrier that the humans must be so careful to avoid, how did Howard get close enough to be trapped in it? How did the chimp get out to end up wandering around in the jungle? What the heck is happening to the natives who get burned and then skeletonized and why doesn’t that ever happen to the chimp or any of the main characters? And how do they manage to kill by electrocution a creature that uses lethal amounts of electricity without any harm to itself? ‘It’s an alien – we don’t understand it’ can cover a multitude of sins in movie writing, but the blob’s random effects don’t even feel like they could potentially make sense.

The Flame Barrier reminds me of other MST3K movies, too. Prominent among them are It Conquered the World and The Crawling Hand, both of which ended on the same unintentionally depressing note: they suggest that the dangers of going into space are so great that humans will never be able to overcome them. It Conquered the World tells us that there are eight more Venusians just waiting for their own turn to invade. The Crawling Hand says that exposure to outer space causes mutations that will turn astronauts into mindless murderers. The Flame Barrier posits that not only is space itself deadly, but is also full of deadly creatures, and the only way to avoid them is to stay on the ground.

This has always interested me because movies like this stand alongside things like the tales of Rocky Jones, Space Ranger!, in which humans have an exciting future among the stars. Stories set in space can be about either the exhilaration of discovery or the terror of the unknown, and this dichotomy seems to be as old as science fiction – Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is considered the first work of proper sci-fi, and it encompasses both. Frankenstein tells us that if we let our fear over-rule our curiosity, we’ll miss out on something potentially wonderful. Movies like The Flame Barrier, and even modern space monster flicks like Alien, seem to say the opposite, that we shouldn’t meddle with the unknown at all.

This movie was kind of a compromise on my part. I’ve had a lot on my plate lately and I picked The Flame Barrier as a movie that was kinda stupid but wouldn’t be either a test of my endurance or particularly challenging to write about. I’m hoping to have something a little juicier for you next time.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #the flame barrier #boy are we in africa!#50s #we're running out of plots

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