Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

Love Cookie	By : Twitchystitch Category: +1 through F > Adventure Time Views: 2882 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Adventure Time, and make no profit off that series or anything related to it.

Chapter List
- 1-Love Cookie
- 1
Finn stands alone in Bubblegum’s bathroom, fresh from an intensive shower and his normally off-kilter mind focused to razor-thin degrees. “Okay,” he mutters, splashing running water from her sink onto his face and a thick towel wrapped around his hair and body. He’s already dry, but so preoccupied that he hasn’t changed yet. “Gotta do this right, gotta…” He stops, planting his hands down in the sink to stop himself from falling over. He breaths heavily, eyes wide and mouth closed, and then he is trembling; a sizable directory of human emotions could have been made from his current emotional state but inadequacy and fear would probably have topped the lists.
Unimpeded, fresh hot water pours on his hands and go on, flowing away from shivering boy-fingers and down polished porcelain, down the drain and off to recycling centers (for the Candy Princess thinks ahead and keeps her kingdom’s water in constant circulation and cleanliness). Finn does not notice. With a feeling like his stomach is trying to move up into his chest, Finn swallows, staring at his hands and acutely aware that he was totally naked under the towel. Perhaps his feeling of smallness is how big the bathroom is now; this was Bubblegum’s bathroom after all. He was not big for his age (not that he knew much about it, having never seen another human boy of his age to compare it with) and had always been small besides, and Bubblegum was certainly a lot bigger than him. As she’d recently taken a lot more candy bio-mass into her system, she’d gotten even bigger lately, standing heads and shoulders above Marceline who was already one of the tallest people Finn knew; his lovely princess would never be so crass to gloat, but Finn couldn’t resist a faint ‘pfftt!’ at Marceline when the Vampire Queen had shot Bubblegum an annoyed glare for taking so much obvious pride in smirking down at her. Even Flame Princess, so shy when it came to Finn’s friends (less so now that he, Flame Princess, Marceline and Bubblegum had entered into a wholly unorthodox mutual relationship), had giggled at it. Finn fully intended to refuse Marceline to never live it down.
He was having to stand on a large stool just to reach her sink. Finn swallows, his stomach starting to hurt a little with all the negativity. “Gotta make Peebles happy,” he manages, a faint cramp twisting his insides.
He whimpers, just once, low and voice rising a bit. His hand clamped to his side, and he felt the doughy softness under the towel and winced. Heroes weren’t supposed to be chubby and plump, they were supposed to be…heroic, super-muscled like Billy! (Or so Finn’s thinking goes.) He didn’t look like a hero, he looked like a dorky teddy bear.
He eyes the big blonde mess flowing over his shoulders and somewhere near his hips, his hair freed and unhidden; he missed his hat, but Bubblegum had insisted on getting it washed, and he honestly had no idea where it had gone. In retrospect, since that had been just when she had ordered him to have a shower with all the nice shampoos to wash his hair and scrub himself down and all other kinds of weird cleaning stuff, she probably had wanted him to have his hair on display.
A violent shiver makes Finn’s back move so violently, he almost looked like he was having a small seizure. Going out in public without his hat was horrible; showing everyone his hair, like he was a brazen nudist or something! It was scary. He already missed his hat.
But… a softer shiver curls up, like it’s right in his stomach, and it feels good and right; it’s the thought that it was all for Bubblegum, she alone would see his hair right now. He breathes in slowly, and when he exhales, it’s as a happy sigh.
He thinks for a moment that all his friends-who-are-girls, Marcy and Flame Princess and Susan Strong and especially Princess Bubblegum, really liked his hair.
He smiles. (And in the other room, there’s a happy giggle; somehow, Princess Bubblegum knows. She feels his moods more keenly know, as surely as she can feel the dance of electricity under her fingers, the cool potentiality of metal in her grip.)
“Okay,” he says confidently. “Gotta…gotta make Peebles happy!” He tries to grin at the mirror, and it falters into uncertainty. Tension and something akin to stage fright seize him, and he has enough presence of mind to wonder why he feels so low. This is hardly a new experience for him, being together with the Princess of the Candy Kingdom, and it is certainly not the first time him and Bubblegum have-
And his brain stops in mid-word, coming to a screeching halt and refusing to speak of the indelicacy that might surely follow. Princess Bubblegum is sacred to him, and any thoughts that might come of her must be spoken with absolute respect and honor. Searching for a suitable metaphor or delicate saying, he settles on ‘making Bubblegum happy’. In his mind, that is always what these nights, these lovely pleasures, are all about: pleasing his Princess, coming before her on bended knee and willfully submitting to her desires. That this is discouraged in some quarters is of little meaning to him, as is the whispers and jokes when it became obvious that Princess Bubblegum had taken a hero not even sixteen years of age as a lover. Never mind that they have been friends for years; people, the kinds that stand in high quarters and lead communities, either find it amusing that the unaging Princess Bubblegum has a boy-hero for a lover and make jokes about robbing the cradle, or find it disturbing and speak suspiciously of her intentions in befriending him from such a young age.
It is irrelevant to either of them. They are who they are, and the facts of physicality mean nothing compared to the friendship and love between them, and that friendship has grown into something more. Their friends put so much work into making the two of them realize it and embrace it (most especially the Flame Princess, who was among the first to decide that this was the best course of action, and her plots with Marceline to pull off this romance gambit had already become the stuff of fluffy novels). Yet, at times, Finn remained oblivious to all this; it was always what she wanted, only what made her happy. That Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum delighted in making him happy, in finding all the ways to please her younger partner, that she was so enamored and fascinated with the rounded shapes and sweetness of his young body… this all was yet to occur to him.
And yet still, he knew enough to realize that he was being ridiculous. He bows his head, and it’s his forehead that touches the sink. He mutters, “What’s wrong with me?” He can’t think of an answer. From his lips comes an incomprehensible expression of frustration, and his stomach aches.
In front of him, the mirror shifts. Irrespective of what he’s doing, his reflection stands up tall, an unnaturally wide and wicked smile that looks so wrong on his face. His eyes shift color, a kaleidoscope of twisting colors, and now an annoyingly familiar voice from the mirror says, “Losing your nerve, little bro?”
It is a voice of fire incarnate, of bitterness and pain twisted on themselves until they become something alive and mad. It is spite and hatred made real. Finn wants to ignore it, wants to just shut it out, but even as every sane thought in his head (and impossibly, these pure and somehow old thoughts taste like lightning and scream like thunder) bellows at him not to listen, he cannot turn away.
Finn glares at the mirror; no longer showing his face, and his reflection warps and twists into another form entirely. Perhaps this one is another lie, perhaps not, and it’s an older human (or human-like) man; similar enough to Finn to look like a member of his own family, frighteningly skinny and oddly elongated, wearing all envy-bright green and a strikingly pretty face with scars stretching from his mouth like a horrible parody of a smile. Long red hair, the same shade as the brilliant roots of Finn’s hair (and his hair is getting more red as he gets older), moves as the apparition tilts his head. In the mirror, these stands of hair flash like flames.
The mirror-apparition, originally known to Finn as the Magic Man until he had inexplicably turned human a few months back and claiming that Finn was his brother and incidentally that Finn was really the reincarnation of the ancient hero-god Thor, and announcing that the Magic Man’s real name was Loki, had spent quite a lot of time recently annoying Finn. In his bones, Finn couldn’t explain how he knew that ‘Loki’ wasn’t lying, that he was telling the truth (because Loki always lies unless the truth hurts more and this truth aches down to his bones with a sound like the screaming of six billion dead and a world he had failed), but he spent a good deal of time trying to pretend it was just craziness. Mostly because the whole thing was too confusing to understand, and he’d had a really confusing year to begin with.
“Hi, Loki,” Finn mutters; he speaks quietly and under his breath so dear Bubblegum won’t be a witness to his torment (and so innocent is he, that he underestimated his girlfriend’s restrained perversion; he can hardly expect to know that she’s right at the door right now listening in with her ear to the door. At the trickster’s voice, intruding on her boy-toy’s personal time, she growls in fury.)
Finn never knows what Loki might do or say; whether he might try to whisper doubts of his friend’s treachery or the certain doom that waited for him on the final battle of all things, or if Loki might give honest and actually good advice on a minor problem (but always leading to another problem and how Loki laughs at this minor mischief). This time, the trickster opts for mockery. “So how old are you anyway?” Loki asks conversationally, pretending to file his nails. “Bit weird that your ladyfriend is into you this much, with how young you are.” Loki says it low and soft, derisive, putting a special cutting edge in the word.
(Bubblegum says, in a voice of flat anger, perhaps touched by someone being cruel to a boy she wholeheartedly has claimed as her personal properly, “What.”)
Finn flinches. “I’m old enough that…that…” He struggles; a while ago, when Finn worried over people bringing up this issue, Marceline and Bubblegum had consoled him, and told him to be vague about his age, and say something like ‘I want to, the ladies are my bestest friends, and I’m physically capable of doing that junk, so it’s all okay!’ (And indeed, this was basically as far as Ooo’s collective laws on sexuality went; it was probably the most permissive society in the history of the planet.)
It’s hard to say that on cue, especially with the mocking smirk on the trickster’s face. Finn manages to say, “Geez, mang! You’re being totally whack-a-floop! I don’t gotta tell you a thing!”
(“Oh, close enough,” Bubblegum mutters, with a small shrug.)
Finn starts to say something else. Loki says, slyly and every word placed well, “Did Bubblegum tell you that?”
Finn stops in mid-word. His mouth gapes open.
Loki laughs. “Does she tell you every single word you’re supposed to say? Does she just feed your words and you spit them out whenever you’re prompted?”
(Bubblegum grits her teeth and shakes her fist. “Stop harassing my Finny!” She says. Sadly, they can’t hear her through the door.)
Finn stopped entirely, and frowns faintly. In most cases and circumstances like this, it’s because the hero has been stunned by the trickster’s words, and is coming to think about them, and maybe soon there’ll be a breaking of the ways. Not so in this case; Finn was not a terribly introspective boy-man, and he genuinely had no idea what Loki was talking about.
Loki seemed to understand that. A new tactic was implemented. “Do you do and say things just because she told you to?”
“Uh, yeah,” Finn said, as though it were obvious.
“And why?”
“Because Bubblegum tells me to.” Finn says this as though this makes everything right and perfect forever, as blissful and true as gospel from the heavens.
“So why do you do those things?”
“Because she tells me to, duh.”
“But what if it’s not a good idea? What if you don’t want to?”
Finn stares blankly. “But… it’s Peebles talking, here! She always knows the right and smart things to do! And she even knows all the things! If she wants me to do something, it’s a good idea! Except if it’s against my alignment, but we’re both Lawful Good, so that never happens! Not anymore, anyway.”
(“Oh, Finn!” Bubblegum sighs, clasping her hands together and burbling happily, swaying in a little happy-dance. “You’re such the perfect consort!” She pauses, thinking that perhaps her Finn puts a bit too much faith in her, and then she considers that perhaps with Finn looking up to her so much, being something like her student and protégé, perhaps she has too much influence on the boy.)
“And if she told you to leap off a cliff, would you do that?!” Loki snaps, clearly annoyed that he wasn’t really getting through to him.
Finn blinks. “What’s the big deal with that? Peebles would, like, just gimme a jetpack or something.”
(“Ooh, yeah, that’d be neat!” Bubblegum says fondly.)
Loki rolls his eyes. “I don’t…ugh, without a jetpack! No jetpacks at all, she’s just telling you to jump off a cliff!”
“That just sounds kind of mean. Peebles wouldn’t try to kill me like that!”
(“I most certainly would not!” Bubblegum agrees.)
“Look, just go with the hypothetical situation. If she asked you to jump off a cliff like a good dude-slave, would you do it or not?”
“…Uh,” Finn says slowly, aware that this is probably annoying the trickster in the mirror. “I’d like her to tell me why, first.”
Loki facepalms. “I thought so.” He rolls his eyes again. “Well, destroying your trust in her isn’t working. Like, it’s not working at all.” He snaps his fingers, and materializing in his hand comes a check list titled ‘Things To Do For Messing With Finn/Thor/Whatever The Niflheim His Name Is In This Incarnation’; the next one is simply marked ‘Make him insecure and mess up his and PB’s Sexy-times’. “Ah, here we are! Next stage of my eeevil master plan! On with picking at your various personality flaws and insecurities to ruin Bubblegum’s sex life.” He pauses. “Okay, maybe not the most sensible plan, but it was suggested to me by my counselor at Evil Gods Anonymous to exercise some of my latent aggression towards her for taking you away from our family, so there we go.”
“What?!” Finn yells, outraged at this horror.
“WHAT?!” Bubblegum shouts through the door, and this time they hear her. “Er…I mean…not that I was listening in! No way! Um… Finn, why are you taking so long in there to towel off? And who are you talking to?”
“Crap-baskets!” Loki blurts. “She was listening in the whole time?!”
“Um…” Finn says, not sure what to say.
“I knew it! Is Loki in the mirror trying to say mean things to make you crazy or think I don’t love you or am just using you?!”
“Yes, he totally is!” Finn says.
“Am not!” Loki says. “I haven’t even got to those two last things yet.”
“Loki Liesmith!” Bubblegum shouts fiercely, banging on the door; it rocks on its hinges, dust falls down where her fist pulverizes its inner structure, and tilts slightly inward; Bubblegum’s strength, increased of late by tinkering and copious consumption of candy biomass, is perhaps now equal to only a behemoth that has found a large cache of steroids. “Leave my love-cookie alone!”
“What she said!” Finn adds, and sticks his tongue out at Loki; if those who dislike his and Bubblegum’s relationship had been there, perhaps they would have taken a picture to demonstrate how childish he could be.
“…Love-cookie?” Loki repeats, not even trying to prevent himself from snickering.
“The phrase is ordinarily love-muffin, but we’re in the Candy Kingdom. Thus, love-cookie,” Bubblegum explains, lofty and easily distracted. “For cookies are small and tasty and sweet and you can’t ever get enough of just one time. It fits Finn most perfectly!” She pauses. “That sounds somewhat dirtier than I intended. Now,” She says, getting back up to steam, and wedges herself against the door, and one of the hinges pops loose, ricocheting off the wall and imbedding itself in the ceiling as the door tilts half out of place. “Our of my bathroom! Leave my Finny alone and stop trying to hurt his fascinating brain!”
“Psst!” Loki whispers to Finn in a theatrical whisper. “She’s just stringing you along for her own plans! She’s just gonna abandon you like humanity did! She’s fattening you up so she can eat you!”
Bubblegum replied, “Of course not, never, and don’t you try putting ideas in my head!”
Finn frowns and look at himself. He squeezed a pinch of belly-fat through his towel. “She doesn’t have to feed me anymore, then…” He shrugs. “Welp, it’s for a good cause!”
“Ah, but you’re not chubby enough to satisfy her cravings yet,” Loki said wisely. “One day, when you least suspect it, she shall devour you in a single gulp! Bam, no more Finn! Just mush to feed the Candy Princess and fuel her with your strength! THAT’S WHY SHE GIVES YOU SO MANY MISSIONS, TO MAKE YOU STRONG AND TASTY.”
The door slams open in a single massive push, the knob and lock ripping right out of the door in a spray of candied splinters and fragments. Like a heroic giantess, she comes striding in; Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum of the Candy Kingdom, and her every step is like a word shouting to the heavens. Finn fancies that the ground quakes a bit with each step, and his attention focuses on the faint swaying of her broad hips as she takes one powerful step after the next; with her unconscious feminine swagger, a sense of inner obligation invested by the power of her scientific skill giving her an astonishing (and to Finn, totally sexy) range of confidence, no honeyed lie could possibly attract his attention now. Wearing only a nightshirt so long and extraordinarily out-sized for her that it was a nightdress, it’s shapeless form drooping pleasantly with only a suggestions of her large curves, every movement is like a balm to Finn’s troubled mind. She pants a foot on the ground, shifts weight, and partly pivots as she points a dramatic finger at the traitorous mirror. “Be silent, trickster! Hold thy tongue and be away with thee, or I’ll give you such a whammy!” She shakes her fist. “And I am not going to kill Finn or hurt him in any way! That counts fatally consuming him as well!”
“So that means that non-fatally gulping him down is still on the table,” Loki says keenly, perhaps eager to seize upon even the slightest hint that his wild accusations have a basis in reality.
“Pretty much,” Bubblegum concedes. In the mirror, Loki raises a fascinated eyebrow at her.
His words have no effect on Finn. He steps slightly away from her, awed and entranced and swooning a little at her majesty. (In this case, a phrase with double meaning.) He gapes up at her size; she notices and winks at him, a warm smile just for him. She looks so big now, beauty amplified and exaggerated by her greater size; with the recent infusion of bio-mass into her overall structure, she was now so large that, even standing upon a tall stool, his head is only somewhere even with her torso, his princess grown so larger and proportionately greater than normal. He anxiously takes a step off the stool, and his height descended to the downward swell where her hips met her broad thighs.
Bubblegum’s smile widened into something like a sheepish grin, given that he was quite close and pretty much facing her posterior. Finn blushes furiously, bowing his head so that his hair covered his entire face and went down to his knees. His hands hold tightly onto his towel; the inevitable would involve him losing it, of course, but he liked to preserve his modesty whenever possible. And of course his…well, arousal at the Princess’ effect on him is showing, and he’s highly awkward about the whole thing.
“And okay, things are getting awkward,” Loki said. “Buh-bye! Loki, out!” The mirror changes, invisibly, and then the only things it shows is Bubblegum and Finn standing together. On the wall, their shadows merge into one.
“Goodness sake, he’s gone.” Bubblegum breathes a sigh of relief.
“Hee hee, sorry about that,” Finn says, blushing furiously. “…Dragging Loki in here like that.” He bites his lip. “…Thanks for making him go away.”
“Of course,” Bubblegum says, leaning down enough to touch his face, her palm cupping the delicate curve of his jawline. For all his scars and bruises, calluses and faded marks, Finn is astonishingly pretty for a boy. She fancies that if she put him in a dress, he could be disguised as a lovely young lady quite easily (and even woo a few fierce ladies or gentlemen at court only to be shocked that this lovely girl is really a very pretty boy, and she drifts into fevered imaginings for a moment, resolving to later write it down as a fanfic; little does Finn know that quite a lot of the novels sold around the Candy Kingdom, of young noble heroes or boy-princes wooed by older and fierce women were secretly written by Princess Bubblegum, basing her stories on daydreams and hopes for the future) and indulges her imagination for a moment before bidding herself back to reality; Finn is still there, eyes wide and mouth slightly open; he is still so surprised that she loves him, and being touched like this is always startling for him.
Flame Princess and him had a sweet relationship; jealous feelings of having her Finn snatched up before she could get her emotions straight aside, Bubblegum had seen that. But they had simply drifted apart over time, their relationship a touch more suited to friendship. (Even so, Bubblegum was happy to share Finn with Marceline and Flame Princess in that very special way, but sexuality and romantic feelings were not the cornerstones of any of their relationships. It had never been, and it made her feel a little glad that it was; their together-ness was more important than base physicality, though that had a certain lovely appeal as well.) His relationship with her, sweet and loving though it was, had left its scars, and Finn was still learning to understand that affection did not always mean pain. It was surprising enough to be touched-
And this warmth, the sweet pink softness of her hand. Warmth that did not eat at him, love that did not come with pain. Her fingers nuzzled the doughy roundness of his cheeks, digging in just enough to feel their strength without really hurting (not that he would have minded), and he could almost feel the very construction of her body; a thick goo-like substance of muscular form, brain and organ and digestive function all at the same time and arranged in a humanoid frame, thickening into a sensitive outer layer… She had trusted him with the secrets of her build, and he revered her for believing so much in him.
She cared about him. That was the simple truth of it, and though she could articulate the precise nature of her feelings in many more ways, this observed statement was the clearest function of her feelings; she loved him, just as he would stand by her even unto death.
So much pink fuzzy goodness surges in Finn’s head and heart and legs, buzzing up and surging into lightning inside him, and he almost swoons. He hesitates for a moment, and then he hugs her leg, blushing even harder but squeezing his arms around the thickness and firm-but-so-soft muscle. He’s feeling light-headed, woozy, intelligent thought breaking down; he just wants to love her, submerse himself in her, fling away all sense of self and become hers.
Bubblegum giggles, happily. She places a hand on the bulge of muscle where his neck met his shoulder, plump softness shielding the muscle and Finn nearly swoons at her loving touch. Her hand comes downwards, over the knobby lump of his collarbone, delicate rosebud-bright fingers tracing along the contours of his throat with such precision and wonder. Her lips part, her mouth seeming to water, and she bends down and kisses him right between upper lip and nose, and buoyed by emotion, he tentatively kisses her back. His lips brush against the ever-so-slight curvy of her chin, and she giggles into his skin.
Finn hugs her still, cuddling into her… and something in his stomach twists, a lingering remnant of his fears and uncertainties, and he can’t quite stifle a treacherous whimper. Bubblegum stands back and peers down at him, concerned. “Is something the matter, Finn?”
He blushed again, still staring down. “Uh, uh…my stomach hurts…”
“Oh? I watched you eat your dinner earlier tonight, you certainly didn’t eat anything that might upset your stomach.” She thought about it, and then smiled. “Ah, I see. You’ve a case of bad nerves.”
“I what?”
She giggled. “Silly boy.” Smiling, Bubblegum leaned over, smirking a bit when Finn reflexively stepped back a bit in order to not appear forward. One of her hands grabbed his shoulder and he tensed; with so much bio-mass in her, restructuring her body and bonding to her pseudo-muscular structure, she was vastly stronger than Finn was. Stronger than Susan Strong, stronger than the Muscle Princess… maybe even stronger than Billy had been (and it hurts for a moment, thinking of his lost hero). Finn squirmed, but against that iron-hard grip, he stilled.
He liked being squeezed hard.
Bubblegum places her other hand squarely on his belly, fingers spread wide and palm firmly against his skin even through the towel. Finn stays absolutely still, blushing so brightly that tears started coming from his eyes. Bubblegum pretends not to notice his embarrassment, but moved her hand all over his belly, looking for something. Boldly, her hand slips inside his towel – and Finn gasps, wavering slightly on the spot – and now her hand is directly on his belly, warm on his flesh and still searching and exploring-
“Ah,” Bubblegum breaths, palm stopping on an unusually hard part of his stomach. “Found it.” She adjusts, her palm presses in, and Finn makes a small sound like ‘gckk!’. He almost falls backward, but with the hand holding him prisoner, she also holds him steady.
“Hush,” she says with authority tempered by kindness. “Let it go.”
Finn is still for a moment, his stomach unclenching. He lets out a small and rather intense belch, and looks away mortified. Bubblegum pretends he didn’t do anything. “Sorry,” he whispered.
“Hush,” she says again, even kinder than before. She pats his stomach a few times. “Feel better?”
He dares to smile up at her before ducking his head back down, remembering his place. “Sorry,” he says again.
He stares fixedly at the ground. The hand on his shoulder slides up, moving to his neck with graceful feather-soft touches and then are holding his chin. They slide up, so that she is holding his face in her palm, holding him still with a grip like a vise (and he grows a little excited just thinking that if she squeezed hard enough, she could crush his head into pulp; she has the power over him in every way, though she would never dare use it) and she says, “I did say hush, little Finny.” She smiles. “It’s okay being nervous.”
He blinks, and then he dares to smile again. “Hee. Okay.” He blushes again, and looks down. Again, he is embarrassed.
Bubblegum giggles, almost covering her mouth. Her grip adjusts, and slides her hands up her face; a finger, extended gracefully, collects one of the tears he has shed and she brings it to her face, popping her finger and his tears into her mouth. “Mmm,” She says, eyes briefly closely as she sucks, and for a moment Finn can actually see the moistness on her lips, and a misplaced tear of his slipping on her lips before being sucked back in. She giggles, and says, “Loki did have a point… you do taste so sweet.”
“Peebee! What-“ Finn starts to say.
But it’s too late for words, and she is already upon him; quicker than lightning on the air, she bends down and kisses him on the nose, lips sliding up wetly to grace the skin between his eyes, so much larger than him that Finn briefly loses all awareness of the world and consciously aware only of that portion of it which is defined as being Princess Bubblegum. She kisses him once more, and her hand moves down to his waist and down, back, settling down on his plumb backside and squeezes. Finn squeaks into her mouth, first shocked at her sudden boldness, and then he relaxes into it, settling his posterior into her waiting hand as another palm greets him, squeezing again.
Bubblegum makes a ‘hrm’-ing noise, exerting hardly any effort at all to pull Finn up as she stands to her full height; Finn rises up, up again as she pulls him upward to her face, and he’s rising in the air and standing taller than he thinks he will ever be even as a grown man and then she has pulled him level with her face. Her sweet breath is on his lips, and he has enough time to think that the smell of her exhalations is like peppermint before she practically growls and reels him in, kissing him hungrily again and Finn squeals excitedly when he realizes that the big wet warmness in his mouth is her tongue-
With a faint popping sound she kisses him again, wetter and longer and harder. Finn is squirming against her, throwing his arms around her shoulders and kissing her back, trying to wrap her legs around her sides even though her breasts were in the way and managed to brace his knees against their softness and lean into her (taking care not hurt her), and a good several minutes of intense kissing passes before Finn realizes that they’re getting a little ahead of their selves and forces himself away from her with a loud popping noise. “Beh?” Bubblegum said indistinctly, openly disappointed and surprised.
She’s left holding Finn, leaning him back slightly and looking hurt. “Um,” Finn says, shyly looking away. “We’re moving kinda… uh, faster than you told me you want me to have us go…”
“Oh,” Bubblegum says. She makes a most unladylike snort, blushing faintly but still looking forthright at him. She looks like she wants to look away and regain her composure, but holding Finn like a rather amorous stuff animal, it’s rather hard for her. Eventually she sighs loftily, and chuckles. Bubblegum pecks Finn on the nose again; “Sorry for… moving too much, too fast, whatever the words are supposed to be,” she confides with an embarrassed laugh, and gently places him on the ground.
His towel falls off. Being a rather modest lad, Finn panics more than a little and covers himself. Bubblegum pretends to avert her eyes, fully sizing him up with a fond smile. As he busies himself in a panic, she passes him a bundle of cloth she prepared a while ago. “Well, to business! C’mon, put this on, Finn! Pretty please, for me?”
“Hee hee! Anything you want, Peebles!” Finn says, taking the clothing in such a way that it covers him; even rolled up, it is significantly larger than him, so he barely has to even move it into place. “C’mon, get out, you’re being all in-troo-sive and junk!” Finn makes a snorting laugh – it sounds like ‘Pffft!’ – and Bubblegum echoes the laugh before smiling widely; she leaves the room with a small mock bow, closing the door behind herself.
Finn can’t help but think that her smirk is almost salacious. He congratulates himself on remembering that word from one day when he was really bored and reading from a big dictionary of words that probably weren’t bad but Jake thought he shouldn’t know because they were dirty, sounded dirty, sounded like words that sounded dirty but weren’t, or just made the regular dictionary look untidy.
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Love Cookie