#naughty language

[faulerro]

Everyone's asleep, time to post this two panel Ash and Firga comic I couldn't get out of my head

[context-is-for-kingpins]

Comics + Shit my friends and family have said #2

[arlome]

Unwanted Opinion

For @thewillowbends , who asked for Maze and Eve, who are incredibly invested in the blooming new deckerstar relationship, to give the mortified Chloe some sexy advice. Hope you like this little thing, girl :)

Here be naughty language!

Chloe’s in her own personal Hell loop. Surely, this is not how Tribe Night’s supposed to go.

It’s her own damned fault, she gathers; it was her idea to include the newly returned Eve in their sporadic meetings, much to Maze’s unrestrained delight. She just didn’t think she’d regret the decision so fast.

She does; she totally does. 

Of all the places on this rotten earth, they decide to meet at Lux. The party, a welcome back hurrah for the absentee owner who just reappeared after an extensive six-month ‘business’ trip, is in full swing, and the drinks are flowing like water. Chloe shifts uneasily in her seat and pulls at her too-short skirt. Damn Maze and Eve for talking her into this silly outfit.

To her greatest surprise, the naughty pair of women seem to be incredibly invested in her budding, slow-burning, unbelievably chaste relationship with the Devil. They are an abundant cornucopia of various advice that, to Chloe’s great horror and mortification, all seem to be of a certain nature. 

Unsurprisingly, none of the input thrust her way contains any information regarding Lucifer’s favourite shows, beloved restaurants, or preferable vacation spots.

 “Oooh, ohhhh, ohhhh!” Eve cries, spilling appletini on the table in their private booth, “when you go down on him, don’t forget to swirl your tongue counter-clockwise, he really likes that one!”

Maze and Linda hum in agreement, Ella howls and nearly snorts her mojito. Chloe turns a deeper shade of red. 

“And grab his rather average balls,” Maze supplies, and her smile is all teeth, gleaming in the low light of the club, “you know, when you get tired of sucking him off; it makes him cum like a shooting star. Ha-ha.”

Eve giggles and leans into the demon, her eyes heavy with drink.

“Oh, I get it!” she croons and bites her lower lip; even Chloe has to agree it’s pretty hot, “‘like a shooting star’; that’s clever!”

“Guahh,” Maze provides and swallows, and Ella laughs drunkenly.

“You guys should totally bone,” she slurs and leans back in her seat, “like Decker and Lucifer. I bet they do it every spare moment. Seriously, Chlo’,” she says turning her unfocused attention to the embarrassed detective, “how are you still walking?”

This gets Maze attention, and she turns to Chloe, her eyes narrow and sharp.

“Yeah, Decker,” she drones, “how are you still walking?”

An awkward silence ensues, in which Chloe tries to look at everything but the women at her table. After a few seconds, Linda whispers, “Oh”, and bites her lips. 

“What?” Ella asks frantically, looking around the table with wide eyes, “what?”

“They’ve not done yet,” Linda supplies as gently as the loud music will allow. Chloe raises her eyes to look at all four women staring at her in stunned stillness.

“Nope,” she confirms weakly, “they haven’t.”

“What’s the hold-up?” Ella asks, just as Maze mutters, “just stick a finger up his ass, Decker.”

Chloe squeaks in horror.

“You should ask him to go down on you”, Linda offers impishly, “that will get him going.”

“Oh, yes,” Eve agrees dreamily, “he really loves doing that. There was this one night, back when we were together - he spent the entire time with his head between my thighs. Definitely get him to do that!” 

Ella gapes at Eve, Maze and Linda are nodding their assent. Chloe feels like knocking her head against the table.

                                                   ***

At about 2 am, Chloe stumbles out of the elevator and into the dimly lit penthouse, tipsy and more courageous than she felt in ages.

Lucifer is sitting in his armchair, reading a book, a half-full tumbler of whisky in his hand. He stayed away tonight, giving her and the girls their space. But she doesn’t want space, she doesn’t want time; not anymore.

He lifts his head and smiles at her, his lips wide and open. She can see his teeth glistening softly, can tell how his eyes light up when they take in her features.

“Hello, darling,” he murmurs softly, “did you enjoy your night?”

Chloe deposits herself into his lap unceremoniously, nearly upsetting his drink in the process, but he only chuckles good-naturedly and puts his book down. 

“I did,” she says, the colour rising in her already flushed cheeks, “but I missed you.”

He does not answer, but his smile is wider when he brings his whisky to his lips.

Her heart thudding in her chest, her breath stuttering in her throat, Chloe leans into him and whispers, “I want you to eat me out, please.”

Lucifer chokes on his drink and starts coughing wildly; Chloe smiles giddily and bites her lower lip.

When he’s got his breathing under control again, he turns to her, wide-eyed and dazed.

“Right,” he mutters hoarsely, and Chloe giggles.

Turns out, she doesn’t need to stick her finger up his butt, after all. 

[ask-sweetest-devil]

What do the lords think of Gilbert's scary aunt? (Or like 1 or 2 of them can answer)

[notanightlight]

FUCK OFF 2017!!!!!!

[dramamelon]

This is what happens when I let Sideswipe off the leash. A completely unedited NaNo snippet.

Beware, some salty language and comedic violence lies ahead. Also, long and clunky sentences. ^^;;

Megatron’s engine growled in ferocious fury in his chassis as he clutched his arm tight around the red frontliner that had landed across his torso, clambering to his feet. He kicked the other brother away from him as the yellow twin struggled to regain his own feet, crushing the one he held even tighter against him as the menace began struggling in his grasp. Reaching forward and catching the twin’s chin in his hand, Megatron yanked his face around to meet his own narrow gaze over the warrior’s shoulder. “If I were you, whelp,” he said, voice low and menacing, “I’d stop my struggling and hope it might result in my spark not being extinguished.”

He should have known better, honestly. The red twin’s reputation was alive and strong even among the Decepticon ranks. The words, in fact, quite opposite to what Megatron sought, sent the warrior into an increased fit of struggling against Megatron’s hold. From his vocalizer spilled a rapid and steady deluge of the filthiest profanity the Decepticon leader had been in the presence of since his days in the gladiatorial arena.

“You motherboard fragging slagsucker!” the red warrior howled, battering away at Megatron’s arm with ineffectual fists. When he switched them out for his piledrivers, though, Megatron flinched as small dents began to appear in his armor. They were ultimately just as ineffectual as the punches, but he did feel a bit of a sting with each jab that landed. A pair of feet banged hard against his shin plating as they flailed with the warrior’s passionate tantrum. “I’ll fucking rip your spark out of your chest and bury it at the bottom of a donkey shit pile before I set the Primus damned thing on fire! Then I’ll stomp your helm open and smash your glitch aft brain to dust particles so small a vacuum souped up by Wheeljack won’t even pick them up!”

Cranking the twin’s head back around to glare at him, Megatron opened his mouth and snarled, “Cease this useless display! I could crush your entire frame to nothing with my bare hands. Do not tempt me.”

That seemed to put some meager glint of fear into the Autobot, his energetic squirming coming to a sudden halt. His glimmering blue optics, however, spoke of something else. Something that reeked of sinister motivation. Megatron frowned at him, a touch of uncertainty flitting across his cortex. He slowly released the twin’s chin and started to pull his hand away—

And outright yelped when sharp dentals clamped down on his fingers as the obnoxious Autobot bit him like a rabid turbofox.

[a-fluffer-nutter]

Becky and Sad

A/N - Hey y’all, here is a short thingy I wrote at 3 am. I hope you guys like it, sorry it’s a bit disorganized, but I wanted to fulfill a prompts I’ve have sitting around for a long time. Hope you like it!

Word Count: 574

           “Happy Birthday, Becky?” Two men stared down at the overly decorated cake, frosting of red, white, and blue coating every inch. Candles stuck out from the thick layer of frosting, probably not even touching the cake itself. “Who the fuck is Becky?”

           “You the fuck is Becky,” Sam Wilson let out a short laugh, crossing his arms over his chest. He reached for his lighter as an unamused Bucky Barnes glared at him, then to the cake, back to him again. “Now, you’re gonna blow your candles out or what?”

           Bucky let out a lone sigh as Sam finished lighting the candles, not wanting to say anything to piss off the man with the burning flame. Bucky blew out his candles, glancing up at Sam to see his judging expression.

           “So, what did you wish for, Becky?” Sam asked as he picked up the knife, starting to cut out two corner pieces.

           “For you to tell me why it says Becky,” Bucky replied quickly, Sam having slid him his plate of cake.

           “I might have…uh…spelled it wrong on the paper…” Sam confessed, taking a bite out of his slice of cake. “Yeah, I was kinda in a rush and I probably spelled it wrong when I was entering the request for your cake…”

           “How the fuck do you spell my name wrong?” Bucky asked snidely, the sweetness of the buttercream frosting taking some of the edge off his voice.

           “At least I don’t spell my name wrong, like you do!” Sam shot back. “You spelled my name as Sad in your contacts and never noticed until Steve pointed it out to you a few weeks ago.”

           “Autocorrect is a bitch,” Bucky countered after taking another bite, the subtle tartness of the strawberries pairing perfectly with the vanilla sponge cake and the buttercream frosting. “Besides, you are pretty sad.”

           “Fuck off, Barnes,” Sam growled through his forkful of cake.

           “See,” Bucky gestured his metallic arm at him, as if proving a point. “You’re sad or at least really pissy, which should be illegal on my birthday.”

           “So?” Sam rolled his eyes, enjoying the last of his slice of cake, his plastic fork clattering down on the plastic plate which also bore the colors of the American flag. He crossed his arms once again, “What’re you going to do about it?”

           “This,” Bucky lunged at Sam, the two toppling over onto the floor, leaving their stools to flip and roll around on the floor. Bucky pinned the other man to the floor, his metallic arm pinning Sam’s arms over his head, his other hand going to work, teasing and stroking Sam’s sensitive torso. “Not so sad, anymore are you?”

           “Stahap!” Sam squealed, rolling back and forth, trying to get away with no avail. Sam knew he was royally screwed, so he just let himself laugh, feeling Bucky tickle his belly and ribs mercilessly. Sam knew he deserved this, misspelling Bucky’s name is a punishable offense by the law of the Avengers, so he knew this was necessary in some way or another. Sam laughed his head off, but was patient, because he knew, he knew well, that once Bucky let up for even a second, he was going to strike. The falcon feared not the winter or the solider, he would strike quick and hard, revenge was going to be sweet. It didn’t matter that it was his birthday or not, Becky had another thing coming.

[aestheticalien-howell-blog]

100 Days of Dan Losing His Shit > 5/100

IS THIS THE END? Dan and Phil play THE IMPOSSIBLE QUIZ! #6