soapsud

Let Me // Jeon Jungkook

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the prompt: prince jungkook au where he always comes into the kitchen for late night snacks and y/n is new to the kitchen staff. soon they become friends and maybe something more. (definitely something more who am i trying to kid)(also request was rlly long so i summarized it)

words: 3820

category: fluff + once again, fond!kookie

author note: never apologize for long requests bc that is how i survive. also, someone seriously needs to stop me from writing about fond jungkook bc ya girl can’t get enough. anyway, please enjoy!

- destinee

Originally posted by jeonilys

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Outlander photo shoot on the beach as planned by JAMMF

“I have been thinking of this for months, now,” he said, with keen anticipation. “Every night, folded up in that godforsaken nutshell of a berth, listening to Fergus grunt and fart across the cabin. I thought it all out, just what I would do, did I have ye naked and willing, no one in hearing, and room enough to serve ye suitably.” He lathered the cake of soap vigorously between his palms, and applied it to his face. 

“Well, I’m willing enough,” I said, intrigued. “And there’s room, certainly. As for naked …” 

“I’ll see to that,” he assured me. “That’s part o’ the plan, aye? I shall take ye to a private spot, spread out a quilt to lie on, and commence by sitting down beside you.” 

“Well, that’s a start, all right,” I said. “What then?” I sat down next to him on the berth. 

He leaned close and bit my earlobe very delicately. “As for what next, then I shall take ye on my knee and kiss ye.” He paused to illustrate, holding my arms so I couldn’t move. He let go a minute later, leaving my lips slightly swollen, tasting of ale, soap, and Jamie. 

“So much for step one,” I said, wiping soapsuds from my mouth. “What then?” 

“Then I shall lay ye down upon the quilt, twist your hair up in my hand and taste your face and throat and ears and bosom wi’ my lips,” he said. “I thought I would do that until ye start to make squeaking noises.” 

“I don’t make squeaking noises!” 

“Aye, ye do,” he said. “Here, hand me the towel, aye?” “Then,” he went on cheerfully, “I thought I would begin at the other end. I shall lift up your skirt and—” His face disappeared into the folds of the linen towel. 

“And what?” I asked, thoroughly intrigued. 

“And kiss the insides of your thighs, where the skin’s so soft. The beard might help there, aye?” He stroked his jaw, considering.

“It might,” I said, a little faintly. 

Etc etc etc

Voyager Diana Gabaldon

EXO: Chanyeol Smut

causekpop:

Sinful Moans I The Last I Bent Over I Disturbing the Silence I Neighbour I Dreaming of You I Are We Ready I Handful I Exasperated I Egregious | Even Though | Pipe Dream |

modestlydreaming:

Movie Night I Hopeful

thesammtimes:

Happy Birthday I Neglected I Underneath My Tree I Imperious I Caught In Between ft. Kyungsoo I Hazardous ft. Sehun I Friends With Benefits I Educated I I Need You I Scream | Show Me How |

krismebaobei:

Cabin I Soapsuds I A Dangerous Game I In The Summer 

x-ratedkpop:

Your Idiot  

baek-byunny:

Retrouvailles I Get You Wet, Get Me Wet  

bubbleteaandsmut:

Homecoming I Masquerade I Don’t Upset Daddy I

an-exotic-writer:

Let’s Continue 

irresistible-scenes:

I Just Like You ft. Kris

duizhangdeluxe:

Check Your Coat and Inhibitions at the Door

smuttykpopscenarios:

Attack I Always Call Me Oppa

noonatrash:

Out In The Open | Up In The Air I Oral Fixation I Just Like That I Two Years I Like The Pictures

fairyjongins

Heartstrings

exobtssmutimagination:

Code Red I He’s Just a Friend I Warm Winter Night I Distracting performance I Looking good I Show me I First time I

keypea:

Canvas I Steamy I Gimme More I Deleterious I

i-write-storiesandsuch

Sexy | Anatomical | Keeping Promises |

kbeatzscenarios: 

A Scarred Heart (Fluff/Smut/Angst) |

sexonextdoor: 

Competition |

soobadnoonecanstopher: 

Deep Voice & Dimples | Killer | Make Me Feel It |

kittae: 

Sinema | Fade Into You |

Christmas Cookies - TJ Perkins Oneshot

Pairing: Reader x TJ Perkins

Word Count: 1,300

Warnings: None. Just a fluffy Christmas one-shot based on the prompt:  “The real question; is how many cookies, is too many cookies?”

Tagging as requested: @musicismylife120191

Author’s note: I’m also currently working on my Baron Corbin Christmas one-shot and *gasp* I have yet another Tom Phillips smut in the works. I don’t know when the later will be finished yet, though hoping to get it done before Christmas as well, but things are starting to get busier for me due to the holidays. As always Merry Christmas!!

Originally posted by itstjp

It was a universal truth that was acknowledged, (by me at the very least), that when it came to food and cooking, I was undoubtedly one of the laziest people on the planet. Or at the very least, very laid-back about the whole thing. A slow cooker was the epitome of my kitchen skills. Just chuck everything in and leave it to cook throughout the day.

Yet despite my distinct apathy towards cooking in general, every time Christmas rolled around, my inner Martha Stewart would emerge and you would be hard pressed to find me out of the kitchen. Whether it was Christmas pudding, chocolate bark, cookies and even the odd alcoholic treat, I made it all in my kitchen. I called it tradition. TJ called it an obsession. Still he wasn’t complaining when the time came to lick the spoon. He liked to pretend he shouldn’t and reject my offer, whenever I tried to hand him the batter covered utensil and I liked to pretend that I didn’t notice, every time he sneaked a taste straight from the bowl instead, despite his early protests about the matter.

However, TJ wouldn’t be sneaking a taste of anything right now. He had left earlier in the morning for a gym session, leaving me up to my arms in the beginnings of cookie dough and attempting to see, just how much flour I could spill everywhere. While I may have felt a little bit like Martha Stewart, I was no Martha Stewart and cooking properly only once a year left me at a bit of a disadvantage if I wasn’t paying careful attention.

I had made a lot of progress since TJ had left though. Various cookies were spread out on the counter to cool, as I swayed my hips to the Christmas songs playing from my phone, as I attempted to clean up after myself. The first chords of Rocking Around the Christmas Tree had just begun to fill the room and I was seriously considering singing out aloud, when I heard the tell-tale click of the front door, signalling TJ’S arrival.

“I’m in here” I called out to him, as I added far too much washing up liquid to the sink. I could hear him chuckling to himself as the sound of footsteps drew nearer.

“Have you even stopped since I’ve been gone?” he questioned, pausing in the doorway to examine my surroundings. His hair was wet, having obviously showered at the gym before leaving and his broad shoulders filled the kitchen doorway. His dark eyes were mischievous, as he first gazed at me and then the products of my baking spree.

“That is a lot of cookies. How many do we need?” he commented, obviously trying to sound disapproving but failing miserably, his tone of voice amused more than anything else.

“Eat” I commanded, purposely avoiding the question. I picked up what I knew to be his favourite flavour of cookie and waved it under his nose until he took it off me.

“The real question; is how many cookies, is too many cookies?” I pointed out as TJ chewed thoughtfully on the last bite of his cookie.

“Is this a rhetorical question?” he asked with a teasing grin.

“TJ!” I replied, flicking a couple of soapsuds from the sink at him. It only took him three long strides to reach my side. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and pushed me forward, dangerously close to the soap filled and almost overflowing sink.

“Now do you really want to start this?” he whispered teasingly in my ear, his voice tickling over my skin and causing me to shiver. I tried to wriggle free, giggling to myself, as his hand trailed over my sides, using the knowledge gained over the course of our two year relationship, to hit every ticklish spot that I had.

“Stop that!” I scolded, trying to sound firm and serious, failing completely as I continued to laugh.

“I  don’t think I will” TJ responded with a laugh of his own, even as his hands stilled on my hips and pulled me back tight against his chest. I could feel his chest rumbling against my back as he chuckled to himself. Pinned between him and the edge of the counter, I was powerless to stop him as he reached forward to scoop up a handful of bubbles and pressed them gently to the side of my face. I squirmed in his grip.

“TJ, stop” I attempted again to scold. The feel of his lips pressing gently against the back of my neck, before laughing against my skin, informed me that, once again I had failed to summon up any kind of authoritative tone.

“And why should I?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice. In the background I could hear the current Christmas track fade away,  before the first strands of Have Yourself A Merry Christmas struck up.

“Because,” I began, an idea forming in my head. “I want you to dance with me instead”.

This time, TJ allowed me to spin around to face him and I reached for his hands.

“So dance with me” I ordered with a cheesy grin, pulling him away from the sink and to the centre of the kitchen.

“You are crazy” he commented with a grin, but was still quick to place his free hand onto my hip as he held me, the wetness from the soap soaking through my sweatpants. I barely noticed, as he begun to spin me slowly, Michael Bublé’s voice continuing to croon through the speakers of my phone.

TJ’s grip was gentle as we moved around the floor, only pausing when he chose to pull me closer to him, one strong arm wrapping around my waist. I let him lead, certain that his rhythm was probably better than mine. Up this close, I could see the beginnings of stubble on his face where he had yet to shave this morning and I resisted the urge to rub my face against the texture, knowing that I would live to regret it. Instead, I settled with pressing a kiss to his jawline, feeling the muscle twitch under my lips.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten,” TJ began to say. “Once this dance is over, those bubbles in the sink are still going to be there” he continued to point out to me, a mischievous grin ever present on his gorgeous face. I pouted slightly at his comment and poked him in the ribs in response, causing him to slightly shy away from my touch.

“Hey now, easy there sweetheart ” he replied, as he began to steer us back towards the sink, purposely spinning me to disorientate me. Brian Kendrick may well think he’s always the man with a plan, but I tended to disagree. Or at the very least, TJ knew me well enough, to know exactly how to get what he wanted from me. I was tempted to tell him that he wouldn’t dare, except I knew he would take that as some kind of challenge and instead resorted to poking him in the ribs again, muttering the word “Rude” under my breath. He responded by pulling me tight to him.

“Oh, I’m rude?” he chuckled, pinning my hands to my sides, as I attempted to poke him for the third time in a row. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to mine, looking me in the eye.

“You little minx. Can’t keep your hands off me,” TJ paused mid-sentence to release one of my hands, so he could cup my chin, tilting my head back into a bruising kiss.

“Maybe I should be putting you on the naughty list this year instead”.

I laughed in response and looped my fingers around the band of his sweatpants.

“Maybe you should”.

3

My family tree! 

Mom’s parents are Soapsuds and Minty Hooves. Dad’s parents Aurora and Pierce . Me and Dinky share the same mom but different fathers! Mine is Warden but aah i don’t know who Dinky’s dad is? I asked her and she doesn’t seem to know and mom won’t talk about him so i just left it blank!

My mom has SEVEN sisters! Can you believe that?! From oldest to youngest it goes Quilty, Icy, Smoothy, Candy, EDGY, Prickly, Derpy (mom), and Rosey! They’re all my aunt and it can get pretty crazy during the holidays…

12 Kisses | Pearlet

 In every relationship, there are always those 12 kisses that you’ll never forget, these ones were Pearl’s.

This is almost identical to my other kissing fic which can be located HERE but rather than the sad ending, this one is happy. (I think we all need it after the shitshow that was untucked and having to watch Pearl cry) So Enjoy! <3

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4

Imagine Chris Evans telling you about the girl he likes

(Gif credits to their owners!)


“What’s wrong with you?” you asked locking eyes with your best friend.

“Nothing,” he answered frowning.

“Yeah… Nothing…” you gave him your best bitch face knowing that he was lying. You went back to the dishes, turning your back on him.

“Y/N?” he murmured.

You turned again to face him and raised an eyebrow, silently asking what he had to say.

“Please sit,” he started, pointing with his eyes to the stool in front of him.

You rolled your eyes and snorted, cleaning the soapsuds of your hands. You still had a lot of things to do and he had an annoying bad habit of distracting you when you were busy. Chris was an awesome friend but sometimes he just enjoyed teasing you. He used to be that overprotective neighbor that’s always looking after his little sister, and since you were his sister’s best friend… he was overprotective with you too. Even when he started with all the acting thing he had managed to come back home and keep your good relationship alive.

You sat and asked, “What?”

“I have to tell you something…” he mumbled looking down.

“Shot!” you smiled watching him blushing.

“I think… I think that I’m in love with someone…” he said looking up at you again.

Your heart sunk and the feeling of someone kicking your stomach came all over you. You had to admit Chris had been your crush since you wore pink skirts and pigtails, and knowing that he was in love with someone else made you wanna cry.

You put yourself back together and tried to smile, “And who is she? Do I know her?”

“Yeah… you know her pretty well” he chuckled.

Great, you knew the girl Chris was in love with. Could it get any worse?

“I actually wanted to ask you if you know how could I tell her that I like her…” he said.

Well, it definitely could get worse. You stood up and turned around fighting the tears.

He stood up too, “Come on Y/N! Help me with this! Please…”

You faced him, hoping he wouldn’t notice how bad he was hurting you and said, “If you like a girl, you should just grab her and kiss her,”

“Just like that?” he asked with a half-smile.

“I guess…” you shrugged.

“Well, then…”

He didn’t said anything else, he just placed his hand in your nape and pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and crushing his lips against yours. You put your hands around his neck and kissed him back, letting him know how long you had been waiting for that kiss.


Tags: @kbrand0 @spnwriting1 @cassjoream @blacktithe7 and @raeganr99

(If you wanna be added or removed from this list let me know!)

A Daydream Away


(gif credit to the creator)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 903

Warnings: None

Song: A Daydream Away - All Time Low

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Remembering the sound of your voice still stops my heart in its tracks and I’m afraid I’ll never be able to shake you out of my bones. The way I felt when you entered the room still lingers with me like the smell of your cologne you left with me when you hugged me goodbye for the last time. Smelling like you for the rest of the day was the sweetest torture that haunted me – if only showering could wash away my memories – if only our moments together could swirl down the drain with the soapsuds around my feet. My mind is so cruel in the way that I will forget why I entered the next room, but I can’t get thoughts of your hand in mine, your arm around my waist, or the rise and fall of your chest as I rested against you, out of my mind. Maybe I simply want what I cannot have—or maybe I fell in love. I’m not sure exactly, but I’m just sorry I didn’t know how much I’d miss you, until missing you became the only option I have.
—  I still think of you & it hurts like yesterday
A Social Experiment for the HP Fandom

“All right, Snivellus?” said James loudly. 

She reacted so fast it was as though she had been expecting an attack: Dropping her bag, she plunged her hand inside her robes, and her wand was halfway into the air when James shouted, “Expelliarmus!” Her wand flew twelve feet into the air and fell with a little thud in the grass behind her. Sirius let out a bark of laughter. “Impedimenta!” he said, pointing his wand at Snape, who was knocked off her feet, halfway through a dive toward her own fallen wand. Students all around had turned to watch. Some of them had gotten to their feet and were edging nearer to watch. Some looked apprehensive, others entertained. Snape lay panting on the ground. James and Sirius advanced on her, wands up, James glancing over his shoulder at the girls at the water’s edge as he went. Wormtail was on his feet now, watching hungrily, edging around Lupin to get a clearer view. “How’d the exam go, Snivelly?” said James. “I was watching her, her nose was touching the parchment,” said Sirius viciously. “There’ll be great grease marks all over it, they won’t be able to read a word.” Several people watching laughed; Snape was clearly unpopular. Wormtail sniggered shrilly. Snape was trying to get up, but the jinx was still operating on her; she was struggling, as though bound by invisible ropes. “You — wait,” she panted, staring up at James with an expression of purest loathing. “You — wait… .” “Wait for what?” said Sirius coolly. “What’re you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?” Snape let out a stream of mixed swearwords and hexes, but her wand being ten feet away nothing happened. “Wash out your mouth,” said James coldly. “Scourgify!” Pink soap bubbles streamed from her mouth at once; the froth was covering her lips, making her gag, choking her — 

“Leave her ALONE!” James and Sirius looked around. James’s free hand jumped to his hair again. It was one of the girls from the lake edge. She had thick, dark red hair that fell to her shoulders and startlingly green almond-shaped eyes — Harry’s eyes. Harry’s mother … “All right, Evans?” said James, and the tone of his voice was suddenly pleasant, deeper, more mature. “Leave her alone,” Lily repeated. She was looking at James with every sign of great dislike. “What’s she done to you?” “Well,” said James, appearing to deliberate the point, “it’s more the fact that she exists, if you know what I mean… .” Many of the surrounding watchers laughed, Sirius and Wormtail included, but Lupin, still apparently intent on his book, didn’t, and neither did Lily. “You think you’re funny,” she said coldly. “But you’re just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave her alone.” “I will if you go out with me, Evans,” said James quickly. “Go on … Go out with me, and I’ll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again.” Behind him, the Impediment Jinx was wearing off. Snape was beginning to inch toward her fallen wand, spitting out soapsuds as she crawled. “I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid,” said Lily. “Bad luck, Prongs,” said Sirius briskly, turning back to Snape. “OY!” But too late; Snape had directed her wand straight at James; there was a flash of light and a gash appeared on the side of James’s face, spattering his robes with blood. James whirled about; a second flash of light later, she was hanging upside down in the air, her robes falling over her head to reveal skinny, pallid legs and a pair of graying underpants. 

Many people in the small crowd watching cheered. Sirius, James, and Wormtail roared with laughter. Lily, whose furious expression had twitched for an instant as though she was going to smile, said, “Let her down!” “Certainly,” said James and he jerked his wand upward. Snape fell into a crumpled heap on the ground. Disentangling herself from her robes, she got quickly to her feet, wand up, but Sirius said, “Petrificus Totalus!” and she keeled over again at once, rigid as a board. “LEAVE HER ALONE!” Lily shouted. She had her own wand out now. James and Sirius eyed it warily. “Ah, Evans, don’t make me hex you,” said James earnestly. “Take the curse off her, then!” James sighed deeply, then turned to Snape and muttered the countercurse. “There you go,” he said, as she struggled to her feet again, “you’re lucky Evans was here, Snivellus —” “I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!” Lily blinked. “Fine,” she said coolly. “I won’t bother in future. And I’d wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus.” “Apologize to Evans!” James roared at Snape, his wand pointed threateningly at her. “I don’t want you to make her apologize,” Lily shouted, rounding on James. “You’re as bad as she is… .” “What?” yelped James. “I’d NEVER call you a — you-know-what!” “Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you’ve just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can — I’m surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK.” She turned on her heel and hurried away. “Evans!” James shouted after her, “Hey, EVANS!” But she didn’t look back. 

“What is it with her?” said James, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance to him. “Reading between the lines, I’d say she thinks you’re a bit conceited, mate,” said Sirius. “Right,” said James, who looked furious now, “right —” There was another flash of light, and Snape was once again hanging upside down in the air. “Who wants to see me take off her pants?” 

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Chapter 28, Snape’s Worst Memory. Only alterations made were to replace Snape’s pronouns (and a couple instances of Snape’s name/nickname). I always wondered if some might react differently to this scene if Snape’s gender was different. Thoughts?

anonymous asked:

I wish AoS would be a sitcom instead of a spydrama: - the one where Ward cheats at scrabble but no one gets mad because duh... it's Ward; - the one where May cooks dinner for the first time and everyone pretends it tastes good; - the one where Fitz and Simmons play a game and swap personalities for a day but no one notices; -the one where Coulson gets high and tells bad jokes (spoiler: they are the same as always); -the one where Skye loses a bet and is Trips butler for one day

im gonna cry don’t do this to me

seriously i want it to be cliche as could be. i’ll even give the aos writers some ideas from the Top50SitcomPlots that i found via google search  

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Gentle asks

Honey: do you like cooking?
Neem: what are you afraid of?
Parapraxis: do you read into things?
Duodenum: find tension somewhere in your body and focus on releasing it.
Sunlight: what is the best temperature indoors? Outdoors?
Resistance: do you exercise?
Terrycloth: what are you wearing?
Soapsud: what is your favorite part of your hygiene routine?
Myopia: do you wear glasses?
Consonance: do you like poetry?
Thimble: do you do crafts?
Ochre: do you connect emotionally with music?
Ensemble: define love.
Prognosis: what is something painful that has happened to you?
Blasphemy: do you believe in the supernatural?
Caress: when was the last time you kissed someone?

Voyager, Chp. 52 A Wedding Takes Place

pgs. 813-816

“Ye have verra fine skin, Sassenach,” he said softly. “Like pearls and opals.”He reached out a finger and very gently traced the line of my jaw. And then my neck, and the wide flare of collarbone and back, and down, in a slow-moving serpentine that brushed the tops of my breasts, hidden in the deep cowl neck of the priest’s robe. “Ye have a lot of verra fine skin, Sassenach,” he added. One eyebrow quirked up. “If that’s what ye were thinking?”

I swallowed and licked my lips, but didn’t look away.

“That’s more or less what I was thinking, yes.”

He took his finger away and glanced at the bowl of steaming water.

“Aye, well. It seems a shame to waste the water. Shall I send it back to Murphy to make soup, or shall I drink it?”

I laughed, both tension and strangeness dissolving at once.

“You shall sit down,” I said, “and wash with it. You smell like a brothel.”

“I expect I do,” he said, scratching. “There’s one upstairs in the tavern where the soldiers go to drink and gamble.” He took up the soap and dropped it in the hot water.

“Upstairs, eh?” I said.

“Well, the girls come down, betweentimes,” he explained. “It wouldna be mannerly to stop them sitting on your lap, after all.”

“And your mother brought you up to have nice manners, I expect,” I said, very dryly.

“Upon second thoughts, I think perhaps we shall anchor here for the night,” he said thoughtfully, looking at me.

“Shall we?”

“And sleep ashore, where there’s room.”

“Room for what?” I asked, regarding him with suspicion.

“Well, I have it planned, aye?” he said, sloshing water over his face with both hands.

“You have what planned?” I asked. He snorted and shook the excess water from his beard before replying.

“I have been thinking of this for months, now,” he said, with keen anticipation. “Every night, folded up in that godforsaken nutshell of a berth, listening to Fergus grunt and fart across the cabin. I thought it all out, just what I would do, did I have ye and willing, no one in hearing, and room enough to serve ye suitably.” He lathered the cake of soap vigorously between his palms, and applied it to his face.

“Well, I’m willing enough,” I said, intrigued. “And there’s room, certainly. As for naked…”

“I’ll see to that,” he assured me. “That’s part o’ the plan, aye? I shall take ye to a private spot, spread out a quilt to lie on, and commence by sitting down beside you.”

“Well, that’s a start, all right,” I said. “What then?” I sat down next to him on the berth. He leaned close and bit my earlobe very delicately.

“As for what next, then I shall take ye on my knee and kiss ye.” He paused to illustrate, holding my arms so I couldn’t move. He let go a minute later, leaving my lips slightly swollen, tasting of ale, soap, and Jamie.

“So much for step one,” I said, wiping soapsuds from my mouth. “What then?”

“Then I shall lay ye down upon the quilt, twist your hair up in my hand and taste your face and throat and ears and bosom wi’ my lips,” he said. “I thought I would do that until ye start to make squeaking noises.“

“I don’t make squeaking noises!”

“Aye, ye do,”he said. “Here, hand me the towel, aye?”

“Then,” he went on cheerfully, “I thought I would begin at the other end. I shall lift up your skirt and—” His face disappeared into the folds of the linen towel.

“And what?” I asked, thoroughly intrigued.

“And kiss the insides of your thighs, where the skin’s so soft. The beard might help there, aye?” He stroked his jaw, considering.

“It might,” I said, a little faintly. “What am I supposed to be doing while you do this?”

“Well, ye might moan a bit, if ye like, to encourage me, but otherwise, ye just lie still.”

He didn’t sound as though he needed any encouragement whatever. One of his hands was resting on my thigh as he used the other to swab his chest with the damp towel. As he finished, the hand slid behind me, and squeezed.

“My beloved’s arm is under me,” I quoted. “And his hand behind my head. Comfort me with apples, and stay me with flagons, For I am sick of love.”

There was a flash of white teeth in his beard.

“More like grapefruit,” he said, one hand cupping my behind. “Or possibly gourds. Grapefruit are too small.”

“Gourds?” I said indignantly.

“Well, wild gourds get that big sometimes,” he said. “But aye, that’s next.” He squeezed once more, then removed the hand in order to wash the armpit on that side. “I lie upon my back and have ye stretched at length upon me, so that I can get hold of your buttocks and fondle them properly.” He stopped washing to give me a quick example of what he thought proper, and I let out an involuntary gasp.

“Now,” he went on, resuming his ablutions, “should ye wish to kick your legs a bit, or make lewd motions wi’ your hips and pant in my ear at that point in the proceedings, I should have no great objection.”

“I do not pant!”

“Aye, ye do. Now, about your breasts—”

“Oh, I thought you’d forgotten those.”

“Never in life,” he assured me. “No,” he went blithely on, “that’s when I take off your gown, leaving ye in naught but your shift.”

“I’m not wearing a shift.”

“Oh? Well, no matter,” he said, dismissing this. “I meant to suckle ye through the thin cotton, ’til your nipples stood up hard in my mouth, and then take it off, but it’s no great concern; I’ll manage without. So, allowing for the absence of your shift, I shall attend to your breasts until ye make that wee bleating noise—”

“I don’t—”

“And then,” he said, interrupting, “since ye will, according to the plan, be naked, and—provided I’ve done it right so far—possibly willing as well—”

“Oh, just possibly,” I said. My lips were still tingling from step one.

“—then I shall spread open your thighs, take down my breeks, and—” He paused, waiting.

“And?” I said, obligingly.

The grin widened substantially.

“And we’ll see what sort of noise it is ye don’t make then, Sassenach.”

nalubrono1  asked:

"I think I'm falling in love with you" ~ Adrienette pleaseeeee <3<3

Adrien says it so casually that Marinette isn’t sure she’s heard him right and goes right back to washing the dishes while he dries (when this became a weekly ritual, she can’t remember, but she wouldn’t change it for the world). The words register after several long seconds and then Marinette gasps, the glass she was washing falling from her hands and landing in the sink with a splash, water and soap splattering across her arms and shirt.

She hardly notices.

Her head snaps around, eyes wide as she stares at him, mouth hanging open uselessly. She doesn’t say anything–can’t even breathe, because Adrien just said that he loves her and what in the world is going on?

“I–I’m–what?” she sputters, babbling slightly incoherently, feeling her face flush with color (she must be the most fantastic shade of cherry red at this point, considering how hot her face feels all of a sudden). “I mean–you–me–what?!”

Adrien has the audacity to grin, as if she isn’t completely mortified because her parents are in the next room and he just said that he loves her. He sets down his towel and leans in a bit closer to her. “Marinette,” he says slowly, eyes brighter than she’s ever seen them. “Marinette, I think I’m falling in love with you,” he tells her gently, smiling down at her and looking at her like she hung the moon and the stars and the whole freaking galaxy around them.

She blinks back at him, a breathy laugh leaving her. “It took you long enough,” she jokes, smiling back at him.

His shoulders shake as he laughs with her, their voices suddenly loud in the quiet room and then just as suddenly the sound is gone and neither of them are laughing anymore because Adrien is kissing her oh so softly–carefully like he’s afraid she’ll pull away–and Marinette can’t help thinking that he smells like lemons from wiping down the counters and tastes like sugar and dish soap, which should be disgusting, but she doesn’t have it in her to care. Adrien smiles against her lips and her hands fly up to his cheeks, smearing soapsuds across his skin and then into his hair and he doesn’t even seems to mind that they’re both covered in water and soap and this is probably the weirdest first kiss ever, but she loves it anyway.

Marinette pulls away reluctantly when she remembers she needs to breathe, but doesn’t go far, just stares up at him and smiles, both of them breathing heavily. “I think I’m falling in love with you, too,” she tells him.

Adrien laughs. “Took you long enough.” And then he’s kissing her again. 

“Ye mean to sleep with me, do you?”

He glanced at the berth, an uninviting hole in the wall. 

“I don’t know where, precisely, but yes, I do,” I said firmly. “And I wish you wouldn’t shave your beard just yet,” I added, as he bent to set down the tray he was holding. 

“Why not?” He glanced curiously over his shoulder at me, and I felt the heat rising in my cheeks. 

“Er … well. It’s a bit … different.” 

“Oh, aye?” He stood up and took a step toward me. In the cramped confines of the cabin, he seemed even bigger—and a lot more naked—than he ever had on deck. 

The dark blue eyes had slanted into triangles of amusement. 

“How, different?” he asked. 

“Well, it … um …” I brushed my fingers vaguely past my burning cheeks. “It feels different. When you kiss me. On my … skin.” 

His eyes locked on mine. He hadn’t moved, but he seemed much closer. 

“Ye have verra fine skin, Sassenach,” he said softly. “Like pearls and opals.” He reached out a finger and very gently traced the line of my jaw. And then my neck, and the wide flare of collarbone and back, and down, in a slow-moving serpentine that brushed the tops of my breasts, hidden in the deep cowl neck of the priest’s robe. “Ye have a lot of verra fine skin, Sassenach,” he added. One eyebrow quirked up. “If that’s what ye were thinking?” 

I swallowed and licked my lips, but didn’t look away. 

“That’s more or less what I was thinking, yes.” 

He took his finger away and glanced at the bowl of steaming water.

“Aye, well. It seems a shame to waste the water. Shall I send it back to Murphy to make soup, or shall I drink it?” 

I laughed, both tension and strangeness dissolving at once. 

“You shall sit down,” I said, “and wash with it. You smell like a brothel.” 

“I expect I do,” he said, scratching. “There’s one upstairs in the tavern where the soldiers go to drink and gamble.” He took up the soap and dropped it in the hot water. 

“Upstairs, eh?” I said. 

“Well, the girls come down, betweentimes,” he explained. “It wouldna be mannerly to stop them sitting on your lap, after all.” 

“And your mother brought you up to have nice manners, I expect,” I said, very dryly. 

“Upon second thoughts, I think perhaps we shall anchor here for the night,” he said thoughtfully, looking at me. 

“Shall we?” 

“And sleep ashore, where there’s room.” 

“Room for what?” I asked, regarding him with suspicion. 

“Well, I have it planned, aye?” he said, sloshing water over his face with both hands. 

“You have what planned?” I asked. He snorted and shook the excess water from his beard before replying. 

“I have been thinking of this for months, now,” he said, with keen anticipation. “Every night, folded up in that godforsaken nutshell of a berth, listening to Fergus grunt and fart across the cabin. I thought it all out, just what I would do, did I have ye naked and willing, no one in hearing, and room enough to serve ye suitably.” He lathered the cake of soap vigorously between his palms, and applied it to his face. 

“Well, I’m willing enough,” I said, intrigued. “And there’s room, certainly. As for naked …” 

“I’ll see to that,” he assured me. “That’s part o’ the plan, aye? I shall take ye to a private spot, spread out a quilt to lie on, and commence by sitting down beside you.” 

“Well, that’s a start, all right,” I said. “What then?” I sat down next to him on the berth. He leaned close and bit my earlobe very delicately. 

“As for what next, then I shall take ye on my knee and kiss ye.” He paused to illustrate, holding my arms so I couldn’t move. He let go a minute later, leaving my lips slightly swollen, tasting of ale, soap, and Jamie. 

“So much for step one,” I said, wiping soapsuds from my mouth. “What then?” 

“Then I shall lay ye down upon the quilt, twist your hair up in my hand and taste your face and throat and ears and bosom wi’ my lips,” he said. “I thought I would do that until ye start to make squeaking noises.” 

“I don’t make squeaking noises!” 

“Aye, ye do,” he said. “Here, hand me the towel, aye?” 

“Then,” he went on cheerfully, “I thought I would begin at the other end. I shall lift up your skirt and—” His face disappeared into the folds of the linen towel. 

“And what?” I asked, thoroughly intrigued. 

“And kiss the insides of your thighs, where the skin’s so soft. The beard might help there, aye?” He stroked his jaw, considering. 

“It might,” I said, a little faintly. “What am I supposed to be doing while you do this?” 

“Well, ye might moan a bit, if ye like, to encourage me, but otherwise, ye just lie still.” 

He didn’t sound as though he needed any encouragement whatever. One of his hands was resting on my thigh as he used the other to swab his chest with the damp towel. As he finished, the hand slid behind me, and squeezed. 

“My beloved’s arm is under me,” I quoted. “And his hand behind my head. Comfort me with apples, and stay me with flagons, For I am sick of love.” 

There was a flash of white teeth in his beard. 

“More like grapefruit,” he said, one hand cupping my behind. “Or possibly gourds. Grapefruit are too small.” 

“Gourds?” I said indignantly. 

“Well, wild gourds get that big sometimes,” he said. “But aye, that’s next.” He squeezed once more, then removed the hand in order to wash the armpit on that side. “I lie upon my back and have ye stretched at length upon me, so that I can get hold of your buttocks and fondle them properly.” He stopped washing to give me a quick example of what he thought proper, and I let out an involuntary gasp. 

“Now,” he went on, resuming his ablutions, “should ye wish to kick your legs a bit, or make lewd motions wi’ your hips and pant in my ear at that point in the proceedings, I should have no great objection.” 

“I do not pant!” 

“Aye, ye do. Now, about your breasts—” 

“Oh, I thought you’d forgotten those.” 

“Never in life,” he assured me. “No,” he went blithely on, “that’s when I take off your gown, leaving ye in naught but your shift.” 

“I’m not wearing a shift.” 

“Oh? Well, no matter,” he said, dismissing this. “I meant to suckle ye through the thin cotton, ’til your nipples stood up hard in my mouth, and then take it off, but it’s no great concern; I’ll manage without. So, allowing for the absence of your shift, I shall attend to your breasts until ye make that wee bleating noise—” 

“I don’t—” 

“And then,” he said, interrupting, “since ye will, according to the plan, be naked, and—provided I’ve done it right so far—possibly willing as well—” 

“Oh, just possibly,” I said. My lips were still tingling from step one. 

“—then I shall spread open your thighs, take down my breeks, and—” He paused, waiting. 

“And?” I said, obligingly. 

The grin widened substantially. 

“And we’ll see what sort of noise it is ye don’t make then, Sassenach.” 

There was a slight cough in the doorway behind me.

-Voyager

anonymous asked:

Can't take a whole interview of Diana talking? Would you mind sharing her fave sex scene.

“Well, I have it planned, aye?” he said, sloshing water over his face with both hands.

“You have what planned?” I asked. He snorted and shook the excess water from his beard before replying.

“I have been thinking of this for months, now,” he said, with keen anticipation. “Every night, folded up in that godforsaken nutshell of a berth, listening to Fergus grunt and fart across the cabin. I thought it all out, just what I would do, did I have ye naked and willing, no one in hearing, and room enough to serve ye suitably.” He lathered the cake of soap vigorously between his palms, and applied it to his face.

“Well, I’m willing enough,” I said, intrigued. “And there’s room, certainly. As for naked…”

“I’ll see to that,” he assured me. “That’s part o’ the plan, aye? I shall take ye to a private spot, spread out a quilt to lie on, and commence by sitting down beside you.”

“Well, that’s a start, all right,” I said. “What then?” I sat down next to him on the berth. He leaned close and bit my earlobe very delicately.

“As for what next, then I shall take ye on my knee and kiss ye.” He paused to illustrate, holding my arms so I couldn’t move. He let go a minute later, leaving my lips slightly swollen, tasting of ale, soap, and Jamie.

“So much for step one,” I said, wiping soapsuds from my mouth. “What then?”

“Then I shall lay ye down upon the quilt, twist your hair up in my hand and taste your face and throat and ears and bosom wi’ my lips,” he said. “I thought I would do that until ye start to make squeaking noises.”

“I don’t make squeaking noises!”

“Aye, ye do,” he said. “Here, hand me the towel, aye?”

“Then,” he went on cheerfully, “I thought I would begin at the other end. I shall lift up your skirt and—” His face disappeared into the folds of the linen towel.

“And what?” I asked, thoroughly intrigued.

“And kiss the insides of your thighs, where the skin’s so soft. The beard might help there, aye?” He stroked his jaw, considering.

“It might,” I said, a little faintly. “What am I supposed to be doing while you do this?”

“Well, ye might moan a bit, if ye like, to encourage me, but otherwise, ye just lie still.”

He didn’t sound as though he needed any encouragement whatever. One of his hands was resting on my thigh as he used the other to swab his chest with the damp towel. As he finished, the hand slid behind me, and squeezed.

“My beloved’s arm is under me,” I quoted. “And his hand behind my head. Comfort me with apples, and stay me with flagons, For I am sick of love.”

There was a flash of white teeth in his beard.

“More like grapefruit,” he said, one hand cupping my behind. “Or possibly gourds. Grapefruit are too small.”

“Gourds?” I said indignantly.

“Well, wild gourds get that big sometimes,” he said. “But aye, that’s next.” He squeezed once more, then removed the hand in order to wash the armpit on that side. “I lie upon my back and have ye stretched at length upon me, so that I can get hold of your buttocks and fondle them properly.” He stopped washing to give me a quick example of what he thought proper, and I let out an involuntary gasp.

“Now,” he went on, resuming his ablutions, “should ye wish to kick your legs a bit, or make lewd motions wi’ your hips and pant in my ear at that point in the proceedings, I should have no great objection.”

“I do not pant!”

“Aye, ye do. Now, about your breasts—”

“Oh, I thought you’d forgotten those.”

“Never in life,” he assured me. “No,” he went blithely on, “that’s when I take off your gown, leaving ye in naught but your shift.”

“I’m not wearing a shift.”

“Oh? Well, no matter,” he said, dismissing this. “I meant to suckle ye through the thin cotton, ’til your nipples stood up hard in my mouth, and then take it off, but it’s no great concern; I’ll manage without. So, allowing for the absence of your shift, I shall attend to your breasts until ye make that wee bleating noise—”

“I don’t—”

“And then,” he said, interrupting, “since ye will, according to the plan, be naked, and—provided I’ve done it right so far—possibly willing as well—”

“Oh, just possibly,” I said. My lips were still tingling from step one.

“—then I shall spread open your thighs, take down my breeks, and—” He paused, waiting.

“And?” I said, obligingly.

The grin widened substantially.

“And we’ll see what sort of noise it is ye don’t make then, Sassenach.”

-Voyager

anonymous asked:

Hey could you post the passage from voyager when Claire and Jamie are reunited again and he tells her what he wants to do with her once they are on land? Thanks

Hi! I’m guessing that this is the passage you’re looking for. Jamie seems to have an active imagination when it comes to Claire.


“Just what d’ye mean to do wi’ the vinegar Sassenach?” Jamie observed me narrowly, as Maitland vanished into the corridor. 

“Souse you in it to kill the lice,” I said. “I don’t intend to sleep with a seething nest of vermin.” 

“Oh,” he said. He scratched the side of his neck meditatively. “Ye mean to sleep with me, do you?” He glanced at the berth, an uninviting hole in the wall. 

“I don’t know where, precisely, but yes, I do,” I said firmly. “And I wish you wouldn’t shave your beard just yet,” I added, as he bent to set down the tray he was holding. 

“Why not?” He glanced curiously over his shoulder at me, and I felt the heat rising in my cheeks. 

“Er … well. It’s a bit … different.” 

“Oh, aye?” He stood up and took a step toward me. In the cramped confines of the cabin, he seemed even bigger— and a lot more naked— than he ever had on deck. 

The dark blue eyes had slanted into triangles of amusement. 

“How, different?” he asked.

“Well, it … um …” I brushed my fingers vaguely past my burning cheeks. “It feels different. When you kiss me. On my … skin.” 

His eyes locked on mine. He hadn’t moved, but he seemed much closer. 

“Ye have verra fine skin, Sassenach,” he said softly. “Like pearls and opals.” He reached out a finger and very gently traced the line of my jaw. And then my neck, and the wide flare of collarbone and back, and down, in a slow-moving serpentine that brushed the tops of my breasts, hidden in the deep cowl neck of the priest’s robe. “Ye have a lot of verra fine skin, Sassenach,” he added. One eyebrow quirked up. “If that’s what ye were thinking?” 

I swallowed and licked my lips, but didn’t look away. 

“That’s more or less what I was thinking, yes.” 

Keep reading

  • Emma: Regina!
  • Regina: What?
  • Emma: It's your turn to do the dishes.
  • Regina: Is it?
  • Emma: I swear it is.
  • Regina: Are you absolutely sure?
  • Emma *chuckles*: Yes. I did them yesterday.
  • Regina *groans before pouting*: You know you love me....
  • *Emma laughs before throwing the towel over Regina's face*
  • Emma: Come on.....help me!
  • *Regina chuckles pulling the towel off of her face*
  • Regina: You know this means war?
  • Emma: Soapsuds war?
  • Regina: Followed by..."drying off"?
  • Emma: Yep.
  • Henry: Every day....I swear it would be easier if I just did the dishes...