#<- going to use that tag when I inevitably need to yell more

[philcoulsonismyhero]

I got The Masquerades of Spring, read it, Loved it, what a delight and a gift of a story

And also re: a certain dearly held headcanon about one Thomas Nightingale, VINDICATION

I Fucking Knew It

[racetowrite]

Needy

Support a disabled creator

Pairing : Lando Norris x Reader

Tags : lap dance, grinding, unprotected piv (don't be silly, wrap your willy), reader is a former stripper, a little bit of possessiveness from Lamdo, precious husband Lando is so lovely

Word Count : 1.4k

When Lando found out about what you used to do for a living, you’d braced for the worst.

Carlos, his bestfriend that introduced you to Lando, already knew, because of course he did. He met you in a strip club after he won a race. He probably conducted a full background check on you the moment Lando got the idea of asking you on a date. There was no hiding your old life from him, including being a stripper.

You’d known that Lando wouldn’t react badly. You knew he’d never yell at you, call you horrible names, kick you out of the flat. But it didn’t stop the paralyzing fear from kicking in. Of him letting you down easy, telling you that the two of you were just too different, that your morals just aren’t the same. So when you’d told him, you’d braced yourself for the first relationship you’d ever truly loved to go up in flames.

But fuck, you couldn’t have predicted this. For Lando’s eyes to darken as you describe what you used to do for an audience, his gaze dragging down your body in a way that has heat flooding down to your core. He’s silent for a few moments, and it makes you squirm in your seat. He mumbles something under his breath, definitely to himself, but you need to hear it.

“What, Lando?” you ask, steeling yourself against his inevitable rejection.

“Will you show me?” he chokes out, his cheeks flaming red, before he thinks better of himself, his eyes going wide. “Wait, shit, sorry love, no. God, it’s fine, of course it’s fine. I love you, yeah? Nothin’s going to change that anytime soon, I’ll tell you. ‘M just a bit jealous, y’know, in spite of myself, but fuck, shouldn’t have asked that. Just ignore that, yeah? I-”

“Lando,” you cut off his nervous rambling. “You want me to show you?” You can’t help how your voice dips a little deeper, a little raspier, in a way that you know gets Lando all hot and bothered.

“Um,” Lando clears his throat, fiddling with his hands. He won’t meet your eyes. “I mean, who wouldn’t, yeah? Got the most beautiful girl in the entire world, and-”

“You want me to strip for you?” you whisper, nudging his chin up with your hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. His pupils are blown wide, and you watch the motion of his tongue as it just barely wets his lips.

“Please, love,” he rasps, and God, when he begs for you like that, who are you to refuse him?

You rise above him, and his eyes follow you, unable to tear away for a moment. As you stand, you take a long look at him, at the way his cock bulges in his slacks, the way his hands flex helplessly at his sides. Lando doesn’t have control, he’s fucking desperate for it. 

There’s no music, no pumping bass of the club you used to work at, but God, you find that you don’t need it. The heat of Lando’s gaze is more than enough, watching you with bated breath as you undo the buttons of your shirt, one, by one, by one. You let it carelessly drop to the floor behind you, leaving you in just your bra. You don’t own the same frilly bras you used to, from your old life, but Lando looks at you like you’re wearing the sexiest lingerie he’s ever seen.

You toe off your shoes, grateful for the fact that you just wore flats today, and slowly unzip your jeans. There are so many ways that this is so different from how it used to be. You never started your dances in jeans, never danced without music and dark lighting, without the stench of sex and sweat hanging in the air.

You’ve never danced and needed the man in front of you, loved the man in front of you.

The feeling is heady, lust swimming through your veins and pooling in your cunt. You peel your jeans off slowly, letting them pool around your ankles, stepping towards Lando. Lando, whose mouth gapes open just slightly, watching you like he’s starving for it.

You straddle him on the couch, moving your hips over his crotch in a slow grind that has you both gasping. Grinning at the way he watches your body move like water over him, you reach behind you and deftly unclip your bra in a practiced move. You slide it down your arms, throwing it somewhere behind the couch. You grip onto his shoulders to hump into him harder, and Lando’s hands flex at his sides as if he’s unsure what to do with them.

“You know what’s different about this than what I used to do?” you murmur, your lips nearly brushing his.

“Hm?” Lando hums absently, watching your body undulate above him.

You smile down at him. “You actually get to touch.”

Pulling his hands into yours, you mold his hands to your skin, nearly shivering at the feel of them. It’s like Lando snaps out of a trace, groaning softly under his breath as he greedily runs his hands over your naked skin, cupping your breasts and thumbing at your nipples in a way that makes your head spin.

“So- so fucking gorgeous for me, love,” he murmurs, tilting his head up for a kiss. You meet him without hesitation, slipping your tongue into his mouth and drinking him in. You hump into him harder, shamelessly grinding your clit into the obvious bulge tenting the front of his pants. "Can I fuck you?” he gasps into your mouth, “Please tell me I can fuck you, darling.”

You’re nodding before your brain can even think of a proper response, and Lando takes his hands off your body to fumble at the zipper of his slacks, tugging himself out without any kind of finesse. It feels like you’re both teenagers, desperately clawing at each other, trying to get closer, as close as you can possibly get.

You haphazardly tug your panties to the side, letting yourself sink down on his cock, slow enough to let you feel the stretch as he breaks you apart. The moans you both let out as you sink to the hilt are borderline animalistic. The both of you are strung too tight, too needy to take this slow.

“God, you’re so-” Lando punches his hips up into you, making you claw at his shoulders, “so tight for me, my love.” You can only press your forehead to his, meeting his lips in a sticky kiss as you bounce desperately on his cock. He stretches you so perfectly like this, reaching deep inside and the tip of his cock pressing into your g-spot with every thrust. The moans you’re letting out are downright embarrassing, but God, you can’t seem to bring yourself to care.

“How many of them wanted you like this?” Lando grunts against your mouth, meeting you thrust for thrust. “How many of those men you danced for wanted you just like this, bouncing on their cocks like the needy girl you are?”

“Lando, oh my God,” you whimper, letting him guide you as he fucks up into you, his thick hands braced on your hips, holding you tight enough that your skin pales beneath his fingertips.

“You’re mine, darling, no one else gets to have you,” he snarls, in the way he gets when he’s with you, when he’s lost in the feel of you. “This little cunt is mine, yeah? My perfect girl, can’t believe I found you.”

He thrusts into you once, twice, and you’re curling into him, barely able to hold yourself up, as you gush down his cock. You sob his name as he leans forward to press hot kisses down your neck, and you curl your fingers into his hair as you shake through your orgasm.

Lando isn’t far behind, plunging deep into your pussy as it contracts around him, filling you up, claiming you in the most primal way he can.

He holds you on his lap as you both try to come down, keeping you afloat. You lean up to press a gentle kiss to his lips as you finally feel your mind come back to you.

“Have you ever actually been to a strip club, Lando?” you ask, smiling.

“Don’t need to,” he sighs. “Don’t want to.”

You hum. “You might change your mind once you see what I can do on a pole.”

[hyper-fixates]

low honour!arthur morgan x virgin!reader

this is really just one long-winded fic idea that i need to speak into existence.

tags: literally save a horse ride a cowboy, afab!reader (feminine pronouns, descriptions, and names used), religious topics/imagery, obsessive!arthur, virginity kink, age gap relationship, loss of virginity, corruption kink

Reader is in her early 20s, privileged to come from a family with wealth from their heritage and inheritance in the oil industry.

The era of cowboys and outlaws has started to become a thing of the past from the shifts in climate and industry throughout the country. Reader has resided in Saint Denis her whole life, never needing to worry about gangs, outlaws, or even cowboys.

She has never even seen a cowboy before, but she’s heard stories; none of them particularly pretty. The presence of law enforcement throughout the streets and the sheer distance of Saint Denis from other towns is enough to deter most of them from causing trouble.

Functionally, she should never be compatible with a cowboy.

Her father has always preached about her waiting for a “good, proper man” that can marry her into another family with obscene wealth. And so, she protects her chastity and innocence just as she is expected to—just as her father expects her to.

Hell, she doesn’t even know how to ride a horse! Her father believes that riding horses is beneath them, so anywhere she wants to go is accommodated by a stagecoach.

Cut to: reader is accompanying her father on a trip to Annesburg to discuss potential investments in the mining industry. He hates leaving her alone. She knows he worries that she’ll get “up to no good”.

Her father has chosen one of their more comfortable, flashy stagecoaches for the longer ride, giving him more storage for his financial documents and whatnot. A perfect target for gangs.

And, inevitably, they get robbed.

The robbers’ faces are all concealed by hats and bandanas, and one of them ties her arms behind her back with careful hands before guiding her to her knees on the wet grass.

The man who tied her up stays close by her side, and she can see her father pleading for his life to another man who’s not listening.

“Are you a cowboy?” Are the first words she says to him, not a note of fear in her doll-like eyes that make her look so fuckable in this position with her on her knees next to him, dress billowing out around her form.

He looks down at her confused. “Uh, once, I suppose.” His voice is a little muffled by the black bandana hanging over his nose and mouth.

She can see that his hair is so long that it starts to curl up and out at the ends under his hat.

“Well, you got the hat. And the horse,” she reasons, wondering if she’s truly meeting a cowboy under circumstances she thought she’d never be in.

He looks to her again, left hand causally hooked in the leather of his belt as he waits for the rest of his gang to finish up. “I guess you’re right.” He tips his head to her in agreement.

“Leave them! These people are leeches. Let the wolves decide their fate.” A man with a deep, booming voice announces atop his white horse.

Now she starts to panic.

She pulls against the rope around her wrists, looking up to the man who tied her as he begins to walk toward his horse. “Wait! Mister, please! Please don’t. Please,” she yells to him.

He looks back to her, then his horse, then back to her again. “Hold on.” He signals to the man on the white horse before walking back over to her.

“Take me home. Please just take me home, mister. I won’t say nothing, I promise, but just take me home and I’ll give you anything you want,” she begs to him.

He sighs, but not out of annoyance or hesitation for her request. He sighs because he has no idea what she has just done to herself.

He places his bandana over her eyes and leads her to his horse. He unties her hands and lets her blindly climb into the saddle, legs shaking from unfamiliarity.

When she settles, she blindly grips onto the saddle horn for dear life, wishing her father let her ride at least once in her life so she wouldn’t appear so delicate in this situation. The man chuckles off to the side before mounting up behind her. She notices the saddle is not quite meant for two as he pushes in tightly against her ass, seemingly not even concerned about it.

This is probably the closest she’s ever been to a man.

“Where to, miss?” The man leans forward against her back to grab the reigns, caging her in with his arms.

She tells him in a quiet voice, and he kicks against his horse, setting them into motion.

When they arrive at her French two-story home on the outskirts of Saint Denis, the man dismounts swiftly, hand circling her wrist before saying, “Swing your right leg over and I’ll help you down.”

She slowly brings herself around, feeling the man lock his hands around her waist to guide her to the ground.

He tugs at the knot holding the bandana around her eyes, and she doesn’t let herself turn around until she feels he’s had enough time to tie it back around his face.

“Thank you, mister,” she whispers.

He tips his hat and leaves without another word.

In the following week, the man watches her after the sun sets. He watches her pray before bed and change into her silk nightgown, waiting for the night he can maybe finally see the more explicit side of her. But it never comes.

She’s perfect.

Eventually they cross paths again one day. The man purposefully chooses to ditch the bandana, too.

“I don’t think my daddy would appreciate me talking to someone like you,” she admits slyly as she continues her trek into Saint Denis.

The man follows beside her on his horse, left arm lazily hanging down by his side. “Someone like me? And who’s that?” he asks, a slight smile also on his lips.

“A cowboy. An outlaw,” she says, sneaking a glance up to him as his horse steps in time with her down the path.

“Well your daddy ain’t here.”

“No, mister.”

“Come for a ride then.”

And that’s how it’s starts for them. He introduces himself as they ride to his gangs camp, and she complains about how sore her legs are when they arrive.

“You don’t ride?” Arthur asks, intending for it to be a joke.

“That was my second time. Ever,” she laughs.

And that’s when he understands what type of lady he’s dealing with, so he goes for it.

“Maybe you should practice on me sometime,” he remarks, untacking his horse.

She wonders if she heard him right. “Uh, mister—”

“Arthur,” he corrects.

In that moment, she realizes he can teach her everything her father has kept from her, show her everything he had protected her from. Throw away the innocence and chastity and truly experience what life should be. But Arthur doesn’t know the entirety of her sheltered life. She needs someone like him.

“Arthur…I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for,” she admits. “I…I’ve never been with no one. Ever.”

“You’re untouched, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. Just as my daddy said I should be. Until marriage.”

And Arthur makes it his mission to make her experience her own sexuality in its completeness, so he starts off slow.

He would always touch, never breaching her or letting her do anything to him. The focus was always on her.

Her virginity and pureness made him conflicted: he wanted to ruin her in all the ways she has never been, but he wants to tease and rile her up and watch her experience all the sexual frustrations for the first time.

It was cute. The more bold he got with his touches, the more bold she got in trying to take what she wanted. He would take her behind a tree and slowly lift up the dainty material of her summer dress, gathering it in his left hand as he used his right to rub her clit through her underwear while he licked and sucked along her neck, careful not to leave marks.

She would get weak so fast, Arthur could barely handle how virgin her body truly was. She would grip onto the leather straps of the rifles hanging down his back, trying to force his hand harder and faster.

However, the first time he made her cum was an accident.

He confidently placed a gentle kiss on her lips while they were alone in his tent—he just wanted to see how she would react.

She leaned in and returned it, snaking her hands around his neck and pulling him down to her. He pulled her into his lap, laying them down on his cot as they started making out like a long-distance high-school couple.

Arthur mindlessly starts grinding against her, ignoring the clothing separating them. She doesn’t realize what she’s feeling as Arthur’s hard cock slides against her clothed pussy.

Her orgasm just kind of happens.

Arthur watches her shake and twitch under him as he pulls away to see what happened. The wet spot on her underwear is all the evidence he needs.

Ever since, she’s been insatiable. She wants Arthur to show her everything. Teach her everything. She wants to feel everything if that means she can cum like that again.

Around the campfire she’d sit on his lap, tightly circling her hips against him until he’d grow hard before stopping. Then she’d do it again.

Arthur would mostly ignore her teasing. He didn’t want her to know how much she was driving him up the wall, so he’d retaliate in a way that was ten times worse then whatever she did just to prove a point about her innocence, how she knows so little compared to him.

The first time they fuck, he makes the horse riding joke again: “I’m sure this’ll be good practice for you, sweetheart.”

She huffs a laugh, rubbing his cock through her folds as she straddles him. He’s built up her confidence so much, it’s all been leading to this.

He’d guide her up and down, back and forth, testing her body to see what she likes. Seeing what spot makes her tremble.

He finds it. “Fuck, there it is,” Arthur groans.

She can’t even think. She doesn’t know what to think. She’s doing everything her father told her not to.

Premarital sex.

Premarital sex with a cowboy.

“Oh, Lord, forgive me,” she prays, her pussy sliding so perfectly along him as he grips her hips harder.

Eventually, he’d eat her out in her childhood bedroom. Her father sleeping in the room above her own, separated by the thin wood of the floor. She arches against the bed, and her eyes meet the iron cross hung above her bed frame.

She’d often ask him to leave the hat on, and he’d laugh, pleased that she is slowly adopting sexual preferences and interests.

She was his perfect, sophisticated woman that he was free to defile and poison with his desires.

[pandorascripts]

Familiar By Thy Side

author yapping: here is part one to the Salem AU! I've decided to make this multi-chaptered because I don't want to rush the bonding that needs to take place. But, for you readers, I have a question.. do I make it Agathario/Reader? It's at a point right now where it totally could be and it would develop naturally, maybe even better. It's up to y'all though! The second chapter is almost done :) Pairings: Agatha Harkness/Reader Warnings: kidnapping, violence, agatha being agatha

Disclaimer: this is the 1700s. THEY WILL SPEAK AS SUCH. no use of thy and it's other forms because I'm too lazy to learn how to use them and they're strictly used in an informal sense. Let me know thoughts, opinions, and if you'd like to be tagged from this point on for this series :) ----------------------------------------------

Agatha’s calloused hands run along Nicky’s sleeping face, her pointer finger gently gliding down his nose. Her time with him is borrowed, she knows, but even if the knowledge is supposed to find her comfort in the inevitability, she can’t deal with it. Death, her lover, will take the one thing that’s truly ever mattered to her – her baby boy. The denial is strong, Agatha needs to stop Rio from doing her job, no matter the cost. It’s why she’s forced to bring Nicky into her scams – why she’s forced to kill so many witches. Agatha needs power to defeat such a vile eldritch horror – to accomplish something no one has ever done. Even now, she’s managed to stall death when no one else could. If Agatha could trade her spot for Nicky’s, she would.

It’s another one of their scams in the morning, Agatha sweeping some dirt out of her temporary home and through the threshold. Nicky comes bolting in, Agatha’s face holding bewilderment as a witch yells out he’s stolen from her. “You dare shame your mother with theft?” she barks out, setting her broom down whilst Nicky darts out of the house and through the back. Agatha makes sure that he’s out of sight before starting to rile up the witches, a shocked gasp leaving her lips when their magick hits her earlier than she expected. Nonetheless, the power rips through her and settles in her bones, a low groan echoing out of her lips. 

When her eyes are open again, Agatha makes eye contact with a young witch, one who hadn’t blasted her with magick. Wordlessly, you stand and watch in horror and confusion at the scene before you. All you had done was try to chase the thief down with a co-worker of yours, not at all expecting this. 

“What is this?” you gasp out, stuttering a couple steps back from Agatha. 

Her hands wrap around the wooden broom once more, jaw tight and lips clenched. You're visible to Nicky in the doorway now, his eyes darting around to take a good look at you. 

Agatha swings the broom down with a yell, forcing as much impact into the swing so it knocks you out. A hard thud echoes across the house, Nicholas barreling to stop Agatha from hurting you again. 

“Mama, wait,” he says quickly, Agatha’s hands immediately dropping the broom before she herself even realizes Nicky’s in front of her. 

“What are you doing, boy?” 

Despite his mother’s hard tone, Nicky feels something – something like his growing magick. There’s a sense he gets about you – your strength, bubbling just under the surface like his is. He can feel it. You’re powerful and you can aid them to stop Death. 

“She’s – she’s powerful, Mama. You can help her like you’ve helped me – then she can help us stop mo – that lady.” 

Agatha clenches her jaw harder, but tries not to show her frustration with him. He’s a sweet boy, curious and full of a zest for life, but he’s naïve. Too naïve. “No, she cannot help. She’s but a young woman – hardly a witch, Nicky. We’d be best to cover tracks and leave this village. Go back outside now.” 

Nicky shakes his head again, holding his mother’s hand when she grabs for the broom again. “Mama, she can. Please, trust in me.” 

Agatha stares down her boy, lips pursed into a thin line, her hand slack on the broom. It falls to the floor as she turns her head, huffing out. “You’ll be fetching that food for her then, and not complaining when she’s given your sleeping arrangements.” 

Agatha couldn’t say why she agreed to this. You’ll harbor a resentment for her, a hatred, and Agatha’s sure that you’ll need to be killed within your first night so there’s no betrayal. When Nicholas smiles that toothy grin of his, face buried in her stomach a moment later, she knows then why she agreed. Of course, Agatha won’t be giving you his sleeping arrangements or forcing him to fetch you food – you’ll do all of those on your own and Agatha will refuse to look out for you. If you die, you die. If you try to leave, she’ll kill you. If you try to hurt her or Nicky, you’ll be killed as well. 

Your first couple nights with the odd duo finds you quietly nursing a migraine, too timid to speak to either one of them – despite Nicky’s attempts to get you to converse with his never-ending chatter. That innocent boy keeps asking to know from where you come from, why you were alone in that village, what type of witch you are, how strong you are – everything is on the table. His mother – the ever-growing infamous witch-killer – is the exact opposite. The glances she gives you tells you she’s watching you, but she’s comfortable enough in either her own skill or in your lack of, that you're not needed to be constantly watched. She’s yet to introduce herself, as you are to them both too, but Nicholas wasn’t shy about it. He seemingly can’t understand how dangerous of a position you’re in – to be this close to a witch-killer, a traitor, a murder, because he can only see his ever-doting mother, Agatha. 

You shift on the leaves under your dirty dress, the woods doing work on the fabrics. You’re not sure when you’ll have access to more clothes again – hell, you’re not even sure when you’ll have access to the world again. 

“Mama, what is it you’ve made for supper?” Nicky asks, drinking out from a small flask that he then hands to his mother again. 

Agatha watches him, her eyes darting over at you with a mean glare before going back to Nicky. “Bread, some turkey too. You must eat the turkey quickly, I lifted it from the last village and am not sure how much longer it may last.” 

Nicky nods his head, murmuring a “thank you” before diving in. Agatha eats her portion, not sparing you a glance. You’ve expected this – even been able to realize Agatha has no care for you being here. This wasn't her idea, but you’re unaware of the circumstances that require you to be imprisoned by her. Regardless, Nicky’s complete innocence and unawareness of this tension between you and his mother results in him splitting off his food to share with you. 

Agatha glares at you from next to Nicky, your stomach growling and begging you to grab the food offered. Simply, Agatha’s mean glare sends shivers up your spine and stops you from even considering grabbing it for another second. You shake your head at the young boy, fiddling with your hands as you stare down in your lap. The sun is starting to set by now, the light-source mainly coming from the campfire Agatha lit with her magic. Your head turns to watch the hues mix in the sky, so akin to the palettes you used to paint on just days ago. Never in your life had you ever thought you’d miss something that used to be so routinely ingrained in your day-to-day life. 

Nicky looks at his mom before back down at his food, eyebrows pressed together and lips thinned – an expression you’ve seen his mother do countless times over these past couple days. It’s been some time now and she’s yet to introduce herself, which is the least she could do considering the situation she’s forced you into. With a slow blink, fighting a yawn and tears, you stand up and walk over to a tree just a few feet out. Your small shawl is used as a pillow, legs scrunched together so your body is like a ball, and you keep your back to them. The thought that this doesn’t suit your preservation is fleeting, being replaced by a hope that maybe the witch killer will live up to her name with you. 

The night passes and you do actually wake up, waking up in fact to Nicky’s mother watching you. Your head turns to look for the boy, oddly enough, but you can’t spot him at all. Tightening your jaw for a moment, you search again within your immediate vision – nothing. The words leave your lips before you can even think about the repercussions. 

“Where’s Nicky?” 

Agatha shifts from a couple feet away, a blank look on her face. “Nicholas.” 

“What?” You give her an incredulous look, blinking a quick couple times as you watch her fix up her hair. 

“His name is Nicholas to you.” 

Silence suffocates you, just as much as confusion. Why was it such a big deal to her? It was a stupid name, in fact, if names mattered so much to her then why hadn’t she asked for yours yet. Alongside that, why hadn’t she introduced herself to you either? Shrugging mentally, which was definitely paired with an outward huff, you look at the dirt beneath your fingertips. They reach into the soil, your body tingling as you feel connection to the Earth around you. You keep them buried in the dirt, enjoying the warmth it provides before she speaks up. 

“Agatha.” 

Your head snaps. “Excuse me?” “My name. That’s what it is, since you’ve been complaining about your lack of knowing.” 

There’s a nod of your head, face red with embarrassment. Telepathic abilities, alongside siphoning? What else is she harboring? 

“Nothing you’ll find out. You’re not going to be with us for long.” 

Again, your head shoots over to look at her, a sneer on your face. “Out of my mind, witch.” 

“Using the term, but are you not also one?” “I am not a traitor, though.” 

“And what? That simply makes you better? How? You’ve no prior knowledge of what’s led me down this road – what’s led me to take action how I have. You judge without knowing, that is a crime truly more damaging than killing some odd hundreds of mediocre witches.” If her tone is anything to indicate, she’s pissed. You know this, your mind trying to fortify itself from her invasions. 

“You may relax, I don’t tend to dive into the minds of those who are inadequate. There’s nothing there they won’t speak – bigotry, fallacies, and lies.” 

Agatha, as you now know, is brutal in describing her picture of you. There’s not enough time for you to respond even if you had planned to, Nicky – Nicholas jogging into the small clearing. 

“Boy, you were gone too long.” 

“I am sorry, mama, but look at what I’ve made for you,” he says happily, completely missing how his mother is on the brink of homicide. In his hands is a delicate, messy, chunky crown crafted from daisies and other sorts of flowers. They do not go with Agatha’s outfit, her eyes, her glowing skin, or even her deep hair. Agatha looks at it as if it’s a crown fit for the queen. 

“Do you like it?” 

“Oh, Nicky, my love, it is divine. How is it you’ve managed to craft this beauty from such dainty flowers?” 

“Mama, you’re quite the jester this day,” he laughs out, sitting down to rest the back of his head in Agatha’s lap. 

You watch from a bit out, eyes flickering between the son and his mother. At one point, you and your mother had been like that – inseparable, bonded, attached. You can’t really remember the fine points of her face now. 

The conversation and laughs are muffled by your loud heartbeat, which has started to echo in your ears. It’s all-consuming, taking you hostage as you focus on it. With it come memories from before this, your life you lived happily and contently. The one that Agatha ripped away from you. Technically, yes, it was the boy’s fault, but he knew no better. There was nothing but pure child's optimism for his future, the truth about his mother’s treatment of witches slipping his mind. You hadn’t eaten in days now, your body angry and fatigued. 

“Girl, are you listening?” Agatha snaps out, your head moving to face her just as fast as lightning. 

“Apologies?” 

“Good lord.” She pauses to groan softly, Nicky scolds her as her flower crown tips off her head when it drops. “We leave at sundown and travel to the next road in the night. Day time is too popular an opportunity, so we’ll make haste for the river, hours before the next town.”

“What is the town?”

“Salem.”

Your jaw is tightly wound together, wide eyes glaring at Agatha. With a soft shake of your head, which metaphorically shakes off the memories of your brief time in Salem, you speak up. “No, I refuse to travel to that wretched town. Salem will kill us all, how do you not see?” “I’ve lived and breathed Salem many years, you’ll do fine. Long as you stick with the boy and I without speaking your insipid mind,” Agatha spits out, annoyed by you making this more complicated. “We are doing nothing but passing through for a few days. The trials have mainly migrated out of Salem and went southern.” 

“The risk is not worth wherever you long to be. I will not journey with you.” 

You’re sure you’ll be killed by Agatha, right here and right now for your clear disobedience. Alongside that sure reality, you’re positively aware that you’ll die trying to get back to your town. The way is lost on you, completely unfamiliar with the route Agatha has stuck you and Nicholas on. Your thoughts are losing volume, an awkward haze taking over you. Surrounding your vision is a small cloud of purple, one that mimics the colors in Agatha’s usually blue eyes.

[fettuccin-e]

A Little Show

Kinktober Day 10: Stripping

Tags: Steven Grant x Reader, afab!fem!reader, lap dance, grinding, unprotected piv (don't be silly, wrap your willy), reader is a former stripper, a little bit of possessiveness from Steven, precious husband Steven is so lovely (w/c: 1.3K)

A/N: So I know I'm late with this day, but it took me like forever to come up with something, and then I remembered our collective husband Steven Grant. I adore writing him so much so I had such a grand ol' time writing this. (I am using these prompts for Kinktober from flightlessangelwings!)

When Steven found out about what you used to do for a living, you’d braced for the worst.

Marc already knew, because of course he did. He probably conducted a full background check on you the moment Steven got the idea of asking you on a date. There was no hiding your old life from him, including being a stripper, just as he wasn’t able to hide from you, including Steven and Jake.

You’d known that Steven wouldn’t react badly. You knew he’d never yell at you, call you horrible names, kick you out of the flat. But it didn’t stop the paralyzing fear from kicking in. Of him letting you down easy, telling you that the two of you were just too different, that your morals just aren’t the same. So when you’d told him, you’d braced yourself for the first relationship you’d ever truly loved to go up in flames.

But fuck, you couldn’t have predicted this. For Steven’s eyes to darken as you describe what you used to do for an audience, his gaze dragging down your body in a way that has heat flooding down to your core. He’s silent for a few moments, and it makes you squirm in your seat. He mumbles something under his breath, definitely to himself, but you need to hear it.

“What, Steven?” you ask, steeling yourself against his inevitable rejection.

“Will you show me?” he chokes out, his cheeks flaming red, before he thinks better of himself, his eyes going wide. “Wait, shit, sorry love, no. God, it’s fine, of course it’s fine. I love you, yeah? Nothin’s going to change that anytime soon, I’ll tell you. ‘M just a bit jealous, y’know, in spite of myself, but fuck, shouldn’t have asked that. Just ignore that, yeah? I-”

“Steven,” you cut off his nervous rambling. “You want me to show you?” You can’t help how your voice dips a little deeper, a little raspier, in a way that you know gets Steven all hot and bothered.

“Um,” Steven clears his throat, fiddling with his hands. He won’t meet your eyes. “I mean, who wouldn’t, yeah? Got the most beautiful girl in the entire world, and-”

“You want me to strip for you?” you whisper, nudging his chin up with your hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. His pupils are blown wide, and you watch the motion of his tongue as it just barely wets his lips.

“Please, love,” he rasps, and God, when he begs for you like that, who are you to refuse him?

You rise above him, and his eyes follow you, unable to tear away for a moment. As you stand, you take a long look at him, at the way his cock bulges in his slacks, the way his hands flex helplessly at his sides. Steven doesn’t have the control that Marc or Jake have, he’s fucking desperate for it. 

There’s no music, no pumping bass of the club you used to work at, but God, you find that you don’t need it. The heat of Steven’s gaze is more than enough, watching you with bated breath as you undo the buttons of your shirt, one, by one, by one. You let it carelessly drop to the floor behind you, leaving you in just your bra. You don’t own the same frilly bras you used to, from your old life, but Steven looks at you like you’re wearing the sexiest lingerie he’s ever seen.

You toe off your shoes, grateful for the fact that you just wore flats today, and slowly unzip your jeans. There are so many ways that this is so different from how it used to be. You never started your dances in jeans, never danced without music and dark lighting, without the stench of sex and sweat hanging in the air.

You’ve never danced and needed the man in front of you, loved the man in front of you.

The feeling is heady, lust swimming through your veins and pooling in your cunt. You peel your jeans off slowly, letting them pool around your ankles, stepping towards Steven. Steven, whose mouth gapes open just slightly, watching you like he’s starving for it.

You straddle him on the couch, moving your hips over his crotch in a slow grind that has you both gasping. Grinning at the way he watches your body move like water over him, you reach behind you and deftly unclip your bra in a practiced move. You slide it down your arms, throwing it somewhere behind the couch. You grip onto Steven’s shoulders to hump into him harder, and Steven’s hands flex at his sides as if he’s unsure what to do with them.

“You know what’s different about this than what I used to do?” you murmur, your lips nearly brushing his.

“Hm?” Steven hums absently, watching your body undulate above him.

You smile down at him. “You actually get to touch.”

Pulling his hands into yours, you mold his hands to your skin, nearly shivering at the feel of them. It’s like Steven snaps out of a trace, groaning softly under his breath as he greedily runs his hands over your naked skin, cupping your breasts and thumbing at your nipples in a way that makes your head spin. 

“So- so fucking gorgeous for me, love,” he murmurs, tilting his head up for a kiss. You meet him without hesitation, slipping your tongue into his mouth and drinking him in. You hump into him harder, shamelessly grinding your clit into the obvious bulge tenting the front of his pants. "Can I fuck you?” he gasps into your mouth, “Please tell me I can fuck you, darling.”

You’re nodding before your brain can even think of a proper response, and Steven takes his hands off your body to fumble at the zipper of his slacks, tugging himself out without any kind of finesse. It feels like you’re both teenagers, desperately clawing at each other, trying to get closer, as close as you can possibly get.

You haphazardly tug your panties to the side, letting yourself sink down on his cock, slow enough to let you feel the stretch as he breaks you apart. The moans you both let out as you sink to the hilt are borderline animalistic. The both of you are strung too tight, too needy to take this slow.

“God, you’re so-” Stephen punches his hips up into you, making you claw at his shoulders, “so tight for me, my love.” You can only press your forehead to his, meeting his lips in a sticky kiss as you bounce desperately on his cock. He stretches you so perfectly like this, reaching deep inside and the tip of his cock pressing into your g-spot with every thrust. The moans you’re letting out are downright embarrassing, but God, you can’t seem to bring yourself to care.

“How many of them wanted you like this?” Steven grunts against your mouth, meeting you thrust for thrust. “How many of those men you danced for wanted you just like this, bouncing on their cocks like the needy girl you are?”

“Steven, oh my God,” you whimper, letting him guide you as he fucks up into you, his thick hands braced on your hips, holding you tight enough that your skin pales beneath his fingertips.

“You’re mine, darling, no one else gets to have you,” he snarls, in the way he gets when he’s with you, when he’s lost in the feel of you. “This little cunt is mine, yeah? My perfect girl, can’t believe we found you.”

He thrusts into you once, twice, and you’re curling into him, barely able to hold yourself up, as you gush down his cock. You sob his name as he leans forward to press hot kisses down your neck, and you curl your fingers into his hair as you shake through your orgasm. 

Steven isn’t far behind, plunging deep into your pussy as it contracts around him, filling you up, claiming you in the most primal way he can.

He holds you on his lap as you both try to come down, keeping you afloat. You lean up to press a gentle kiss to his lips as you finally feel your mind come back to you.

“Have you ever actually been to a strip club, Steven?” you ask, smiling.

“Don’t need to,” he sighs. “Don’t want to.”

You hum. “You might change your mind once you see what I can do on a pole.”

[nightlyrequiem]

hello sweetheart! have you ever thought about writing valeria x fem!reader who is prone to crying? this idea suddenly came to me after spending a lot of time in my day reading and re-reading your valeria x reader fanfics. i don’t know if you still take requests, but if not, consider this a writing idea for the future X3

(btw, i love you and your works so so muchhhhhh! your tumblr is clearly a paradise for valeria garza fangirls 😭💕💕💕)

Sweetheart? Oh my, I'm swooning!

I love it when people say they re-read my fics, makes me feel all warm inside. Yes stranger on the internet! Fuel my ego! Give me that instant dopamine hit! As someone who cries a lot, I needed to write this

I love you too, anonymous asker! Doing my civic duty of providing Valeria content

(Name has nothing to do with the fictional creatures.)

Tags/Warnings: WLW, Emotional Hurt, Comfort (Kind Of.), Valeria is Mean but regrets it, Sensitive reader

Weeping Angel

You're crying again. Valeria had returned home later than usual and when you asked about it, her tone was slightly different. Not as soft as usual. It doesn't take much to make you cry. Saltine tears swiftly well up in your eyes as you fall silent. Valeria feels frustrated. She is someone who rarely cries, who is used to being around stronger people. She still isn't sure how to handle you and your endless fountain of tears.

You turn your head and wipe at your eyes with your sleeve. Valeria sighs and rubs her face, trying to reel in her temper. She has to remind herself that you're more delicate than she is. You aren't trying to manipulate her with crocodile tears, you're just truly, very sensitive. She both hates and loves that about you.

"Look, I told you I have a lot to do." She says, attempting to soften her voice but even she can hear the irritation seeping through her words. Valeria just doesn't understand how a grown adult is unable to regulate their feelings.

"...Okay." You reply passively, voice thick with sadness.

Valeria wishes you were stronger.

"Stop crying." She says sternly. "I hate it when you do that. I didn't even do anything, why are you trying to make me feel bad?" Valeria knows that's not what you're trying to do, and she knows she's only making things worse. You look at her with wide, wet eyes.

"Why are you yelling at me?"

"Why do you take everything so personally? I'm not yelling." she grits out.

Your lips twitch down into a frown. It would be almost comical if she didn't have to deal with you and your dramatic tears.

"God. I can't deal with this." She continues. Venting all her frustrations that have been slowly growing like a malignant tumor. "I don't think you understand how hard it is to deal with you. I can't say anything without offending you." You just stand there and take it. Tears running rivers down your cheeks. "It's like walking on eggshells around you. It's exhausting."

"Don't talk to me like that." You say. frowning at her.

"'Don't talk to me like that'?" Valeria growls, getting up in your face. Out of the corner of her eye she can see your hands shaking. She knows confrontation isn't your strong suit. "You're allowed to whine and bitch but the second I do it I'm the bad guy?"

You struggle to find the words to respond and for the first time, Valeria feels a small tingle of guilt. Not enough to stop though, Valeria has never found it easy to back down. She's just so tired of your tears. Of always having to console you. You can barely function. You spill a drink and cry, if you don't succeed at something right away, you cry. The stray dogs on the street make you cry.

"Just get out of my face, okay? Go be somewhere else because I can't stand you right now." Valeria says dismissively. Turning her back to you.

She hears your hiccupping breathes disappear down the hall. She leans against the counter and puts her head in her hands. She doesn't like fighting with you, and she doesn't like making you cry, but it's practically inevitable with how volatile the both of you are. You always bring down the mood, Valeria can never truly relax around you because she's always expecting something to set you off. Sometimes she feels more like your therapist than your girlfriend.

As hours pass by, her anger cools into quiet sadness. Valeria is less upset by your crying then she is by the fact that she can't ever seem to help. She can't ever find the right words to comfort you. Valeria is frustrated with herself because she doesn't understand. Valeria has never cried over a spilled drink, or a single off-handed joke at her expense, or when she failed at something.

What she does understand, is that she loves you. Valeria sighs and stands from the couch. Heading to the bedroom. she gently opens the door, seeing you curled up in bed. Your side slowly rising and falling with each breath. She sits down next to you. Looking over your tear-stained face. Your eyes are closed, having worn yourself out with your crying. Valeria isn't good at apologies, but she reaches out a hand and pets your hair. Smoothing her fingers over the strands. You're not awake to hear the awkward, murmured apology falling from her lips. You cry over everything, but Valeria doesn't want to be among the reasons. She may not understand you, but she doesn't need to. She just needs to be there for you.

[isak-dot-gov]

Mic'd Up Pt.2

Pairing: Kelsey Plum x Reader

Word count: 1208

Part 1 - My Masterlist

.................................................

The next morning, you were jolted awake by your phone vibrating non-stop. Squinting at the screen, you saw a barrage of notifications—Twitter mentions, Instagram tags, and text messages from both friends and strangers alike. Dread mixed with curiosity as you opened your phone to see what all the fuss was about.

There it was: a notification from the Las Vegas Aces’ official YouTube channel.

“Kelsey's Biggest Fan: Mic’d Up!” the title read.

You bit your lip, heart racing as you clicked on the video. The screen lit up with the intro, and it didn’t take long before you saw yourself, front and centre. The video started with a slow-motion clip of you, wide-eyed and jumping out of your seat, shouting, “That’s my girl!” after Kelsey hit a three-pointer. A heart graphic floated above your head, and a cute caption popped up: “Biggest supporter in the house.”

As the video continued, it cut between clips of you and Kelsey’s jaw-dropping plays. Every reaction you’d had—cheering, fist-pumping, gasping at the refs’ bad calls—was captured in vivid detail. Your face flashed on the screen, excitement radiating, while the crowd erupted behind you. The editors had even added a dramatic slow-motion replay of you standing up and yelling, “Let’s go, Kelsey!” during a key moment in the game, complete with epic music in the background.

Your hands flew to your face, cringing at the full display of your emotions. The internet had seen it all. Your love for Kelsey. Your passion for the team. Your inability to sit still for more than five seconds when the Aces were on fire.

By the time the video ended, you were red-faced and laughing, even as the embarrassment settled in. The comments section was blowing up with fans reacting to your over-the-top enthusiasm:

“This is what love looks like!”

“Relationship goals AF.”

“Kelsey's girl is all of us when the Aces play!”

There were even memes already circulating. One showed you passionately screaming with the caption, “When you’re more hyped than the players themselves.” Another zoomed in on your face during a tense moment with the caption, “Me when the refs make a bad call.”

Your phone buzzed again, this time with a call from Kelsey. You braced yourself for the inevitable teasing.

“Hey, YouTube star!” Kelsey greeted, laughter bubbling in her voice. “Seen the video yet?”

You sighed dramatically, still blushing from the experience. “Yeah... I don’t know whether to be flattered or hide under a rock.”

Kelsey’s chuckle was warm, affectionate. “Oh, come on. It’s adorable. I think it’s safe to say the fans love you almost as much as I do.”

“‘Almost’?” you teased. “I think they might love me more after this.”

Kelsey laughed louder, her voice full of mischief. “Don’t push it. But seriously, the whole team’s seen it. A’ja’s been texting me non stop. She’s already planning ways to roast you at practice.”

You groaned, but you couldn’t help the smile forming. “Great. Just what I needed—A’ja Wilson making me the butt of every joke.”

“Oh, it’s not just A’ja,” Kelsey said, her tone almost too gleeful. “Chelsea’s already called dibs on the post-game interview next time, and Kate and Syd are coming up with new chants for you to yell. The whole team’s in on this.”

A notification popped up from A’ja’s Twitter: “Mic’d up AND famous? You’re a LEGEND now! #BringTheHype #CheerCaptain”

Before you could respond, Kelsey continued, “Anyway, we’ve got a team meeting later today. You might want to brace yourself.”

You hung up with a pit in your stomach, knowing full well you were about to walk into the lion’s den. Sure enough, when you arrived at the Aces’ training facility later that afternoon, the team was waiting for you.

The second you stepped into the locker room, A’ja’s booming voice greeted you. “Ayyy, here she is! The real MVP of last night’s game!”

The entire room erupted in laughter and cheers as the team gathered around you. A’ja threw her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into the centre of the locker room. “Y’all seen this video, right? Our girl was more hyped than the entire crowd combined!”

Jackie was right behind her, shaking her head with a grin. “Honestly, I don’t think we’ve ever had this much energy coming from the stands. We might need to mic her up every game.”

AC leaned casually against her locker, smirking. “I’ve been saying it since last night—she’s got more hype than the bench squad. We’re going to need her on the sidelines full-time.”

“Forget the mascot,” Megan added, laughing. “We’ve got our own hype woman.”

You could feel your face growing hotter by the second, but their teasing was good-natured, filled with warmth and camaraderie. The fact that the whole team had seen the video—and was getting this much joy from it—made it all the more embarrassing and heartwarming at the same time.

“Okay, okay, enough roasting,” Kelsey said, stepping forward with a playful smile. “I mean, I think we can all agree that having my personal cheerleader on blast last night helped us win, right?”

A chorus of agreement filled the room, and A’ja, never one to miss a moment, pointed at you dramatically. “You’re the reason we secured that dub! We need that energy every night.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, throwing your hands up. “Fine, I’ll accept the title of unofficial hype woman. But you better believe I’m charging for appearances.”

Chelsea winked at you. “First paycheck is going to be in popcorn and court-side seats.”

As the laughter died down, the team started gathering for their meeting, but A’ja wasn’t done just yet. “Yo, before we get serious, can we all agree that the next time she’s mic’d up, we get to pick the lines she has to yell?”

Jackie nodded, grinning. “Oh, for sure. I’m already writing down some good ones.”

Kelsey groaned, shaking her head but smiling. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

After the meeting, Kelsey found you in the hallway, still laughing from the whirlwind of teasing. “You good?” she asked, sliding her arm around your waist.

“Yeah, I think I survived.” You leaned into her, feeling a wave of contentment settle over you. “Your teammates are ruthless, though.”

“Oh, trust me, I know,” she said, grinning. “But seriously, they love you. You’re part of the family now.”

As you walked toward the parking lot, your phone buzzed again, this time with a text from A’ja: “We need a full mic’d-up session next game. You down?”

You showed Kelsey the message, and she chuckled. “You gonna do it?”

You grinned. “You know what? I might just. But next time, I’m going even harder.”

Kelsey laughed, squeezing your hand. “Deal. Just don’t make me laugh too much while I’m trying to play.”

As you left the arena together, the warmth of being embraced by not just Kelsey but the whole Aces family stayed with you. Sure, you were the butt of some jokes now, but you wouldn’t trade that for anything. Being part of their world—even as the loud, slightly embarrassing cheerleader—felt like you belonged, and that meant more than anything. 

Plus, next game? You were definitely going to be the loudest fan in the building.

............................................................

[spectr3inl0ve]

we cry together is so toxic relationship with dick grayson coded

ESPECIALLY VERSE 2!!!!! (I skipped some lines to fit the story and changed a few words to better fit dick's character </3) also this specific dick is gonna be known as "toxic relationship!dick grayson" (tags)

tw: arguments, toxic relationship, on again off again relationship vibes, allusions to dick cheating on reader with babs

It was inevitable that the two of you would get into another argument - about her. Barbara Gordon. The beautiful, fit, intelligent and witty daughter of the police commissioner James Gordon. Fuck, you were jealous of her. Of what she meant to Dick. You knew that they were a thing before the two of you got together, and yet almost every time he bailed on you it was to see Barbara.

"R/n I swear that there's nothing on between us. It's just work and friendship. I wouldn't do that to you." Dick tries to reason with you, albeit angrily.

"Oh really? Cus I know for a fact that you've cheated on someone with that redheaded hoe!" You hiss, your hands on the island bench as you stare into the guilty eyes of the man before you, your keys resting a few inches from you. He throws his hands up and shakes his head in disbelief. As if he didn't do exactly that to Kori.

"For God's sake, why are you making this so difficult? All we're doing is working. On. A. Case. What don't you understand about that?" Dick annunciate the last part in a slow, firm voice, reminiscent of the voice that one would use to talk to a misbehaving toddler.

"Nah, you're just a lil dick-ass slut that's tryna go big. Tryna make a name for yourself as Gotham's resident whore or what?" with a mirthless chuckle, you use your hands to gesture.

Dick's annoyingly perfect eyebrows furrow, and he smirks, "But you were suckin' this dick though.". This comment throws you off momentarily, but you quickly clap back.

"Well, shit, I shoulda sucked his." who's cock you were referring to? You don't know, and it didn't matter. What mattered right now was pissing Dick off to the point that he'd apologise and to promise to never see Barbara without anyone else present.

This wiped the smirk off of Dick's face immediately, the sudden change was hilarious. If you weren't so infuriated, you would've laughed in his stupid stunned face. "What? Fuckin' repeat what you said."

"I shoulda found a bigger dick." you make sure to punctuate each word with a crisp, satisfying clap, astounding your boyfriend even more. His expression quickly turns sour and bitter.

"What? You mad? Because you can go text that raggedy bitch and tell her you all that she got." You gloat, pointing at the phone in his left hand. With a huff, Dick quickly snatches up your car keys, moving towards the living room to inevitably get away from you. Fuck, you still need to get to work.

"Dick, give me my keys, Imma be late for work." with furrowed eyebrows you follow him, where he stops near the coffee table, arms crossed.

"Fuck your job, today's gonna be the day you walk to that bitch." he scowls, eyes narrowed as he glares at you, giving a quick glance at the clock. 7:58 AM.

You sigh inwardly, pinching your eyebrows, "I need to leave at 8, give me my keys, bro." and the devil that is Dick Grayson lets out a bark of laughter.

"On God, you aren't getting these keys." He raises the keys out of your reach when you make a grab for them, leaving you to accidentally swipe at his upper arm.

"Give me my fucking keys!" You yell, fruitlessly trying to reach for your keys again, to which Dick laughs at again.

"Ah, now you mad at me, I got you hollerin' for nothin'."

"I do the same when we fuckin'."

"Acting like that pussy ain't loose."

"I'd rather act like I'm cummin'."

"I'd rather fuck off that juice."

"I'd rather fuck on your brother."

Dick was about to retort back but he paused. Wait, what? "Bitch, you said you're gonna fuck who?" he hisses, an ugly frown adorning his face and his breath heavy. At this point his arms are folded again, your keys tucked into a large hand.

A bitter smirk on your face, you reply, "You heard me, bitch, it's nothing.". Your heart is racing, was that too far? Definitely, but if it makes him feel even a fraction of how you feel when he's with Babs, then it's worth it.

Dick carelessly chucks your car keys onto the coffee table behind him, stalking backing you into the couch as he stares you down. Fuck, you're in for it now. You're forced to sit, with how in your face he is and you cross your own arms. Two can play that game. You glower up at him, daring him to say or do something.

"That better be nothing. No one knows you better than I do. No one." he scowls, moving a hand to cup your cheek.

[yeowangies]

Bossy

PAIRING: Goku/Chichi/AFAB!Reader. CONTENTS: Established Relationship, Threesome (f/f/m), Implied poly relationship, Oral f!receiving. WORDCOUNT: 666 (insane)

Summary:

You and Goku were impatient during sex, but despite what people thought of Chichi (and even the way she acted around the two of you sometimes), she was certainly the most demanding, being bossy even in bed.

Notes:

KINKTOBER DAY 8: THREESOME

I always wanted to write this!!! tagging my beloved @actuallysaiyan

divider by @/saradika-graphics

You moaned, loud and long, as Goku moved his fingers in and out of your entrance, taking his time preparing you for his thick cock. No matter how many times he’s been inside you, you could never get used to it; he was just too big and warm. And enthusiastic. It was one of Goku’s best qualities. 

It made it difficult to focus on Chichi, however. Though when you looked at her from between her thighs, you could see she was enjoying the view, Goku’s toned body fingering you from behind, just as much as you were. Disheveled hair, eyes hooded and hazy, obviously blinded by lust, lower lip trapped between her teeth. You knew she could still get shy, even if the three of you have been intimate many times, but you still find it adorable.

She had her moments where she demanded being the center of attention, and you more so than obliged for her; but she was just as turned on to see Goku play with your pussy as you were. 

You wouldn’t leave Chichi hanging though, and you glided two of your fingers over her slit, purposely pressing against her clit. The moan she let out was music for your ears, and it was soon joined by a moan of your own when Goku stroked your sensitive spot inside you. 

“Stop playing, Goku,” You whined in a shaky voice, looking over your shoulder. “Just put it in already…”

“But I usually take longer to do it,” He pouted. Unbelievable considering how eager he was to fuck you (or Chichi) sometimes. “You’re not being loud enough yet.”

“Goku, just do it!” Chichi demanded.

You tried to contain your laugh. You and Goku were impatient during sex, but despite what people thought of Chichi (and even the way she acted around the two of you sometimes), she was certainly the most demanding, being bossy even in bed. You loved that about her. 

Goku agreed, hurriedly and desperately, and you hissed when he pulled his fingers out. The next thing you felt was his cock, hard and hot, pressing against your entrance from behind. In one swift move, he was inside you, a sharp yelling ripping through you.

You were never ready for him. 

With your hands on Chichi’s thighs, you braced yourself when Goku started thrusting, slow and hard. It was hard to concentrate, but you knew what you needed, mouth watering with a privileged view of a wet, delicious pussy right in front of you.

Diving in, you darted your tongue to bury it deep inside Chichi, moaning simultaneously with her as you tasted her. Her fingers threaded in your hair, keeping you close, as you traced every inch of her skin. Goku’s firm thrusts made you inevitably grind against her pussy, prodding her clit with your tongue, and she wet your mouth with her arousal. 

Obscene sounds filled the room; your muffled moans against Chichi’s delicious pussy, her own mewls courtesy of your tongue, and the sharp sound of skin slapping against skin as Goku pistoned his hips against your ass. He huffed and groaned, grazing that wonderful spot that made you see stars behind your lids, your wells clenching around his thick cock, like you were trying to keep him there. Just as much as Chichi pressed your head to her pussy; wordlessly asking for you to keep going. 

You quickly forgot where they ended and you began; your mind turning to mush in the blink of an eye. Chichi tasted so good, so sweet, like honey, and Goku’s hot cock burned your skin, making you pulse with pleasure. 

You wanted to make the beautiful woman you were giving head to come first, but your senses were so overloaded, it was inevitably you’d tip over the edge first. But as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, Chichi’s thighs around your head shuddered as she gasped, and Goku grunted low and deep, as his grip on your hips tightened. 

[doudouneverte]

Back to Home | Chapter four: Phantom from the past and the future

a/n: I think we can say "here we go again"

Pairing this chap: Natasha Romanoff x teen!reader; Wanda Maximoff x teen!reader; Avengers x teen!reader

Summary: you're separate from your moms and she's separate from her sons, and even if the avengers are against it the meeting is inevitable

Warning: @g-athenaathens @darkstar225

Tag list:

Chapter Three | Serie Masterlist | Chapter Five

----------

'"Why are you doing this? I'm sixteen now; I can't be stuck in my room like a prisoner all my life." You yelled to your moms.

"Hey! Don't raise your tone with me, little one." Natasha said.

"Girls, calm down, please." Wanda tried to appease the tension. "Nat, you know she's exactly like you, so don't give her any reason to scream more than necessary. And Y/n, baby girl, we already talked about this."

"But why? It's not like I can't defend myself. I didn't train with you two to just stay all my life in school." You argued.

"We don't train you to be a hero, but to protect yourself. We don't want you to be hurt." The sokovian said, and you rolled your eyes with a loud groan.

"Not this card again. It's always the same thing with you."

"Where did you get this attitude?" Nat raised her voice. It started to really become something bad.

"Nat please…"

"No, no. I'll not let her talk like that. Hear me out if we say no avengers mission for you; that means NO AVENGERS MISSION FOR YOU." You looked at her, then at Wanda, but when the witch nodded, you snapped.

You turned around and walked straight to your bedroom, slammed the door, and used your power to lock it.

In the living room, Wanda had to block the redhead to rush to your room.

"How can she be so stubborn?" The Russian asked no one.

"I think from who she got that." The Maximoff twin remarked. "But don't worry, she'll be back when she's hungry, and we will try to talk about it more carefully this time."

The redhead sighed before crashing down on the couch. "I hope you're right. I don't want her to be hurt, but it will be worse if she hates us forever." She said with a defeated expression.

"Don't worry, it's just a phase; it will pass… I think." Her wife said after sitting next to her.

"Sometime I feel like I'm not the mother she deserves." The ex-spy confessed.

"Hey, don't say that. You're exactly the mom she deserves. We couldn't be a family without you."'

Some footsteps stop in front of your cell, making you raise your head. And when you thought nothing could be worse, you totally forgot about that.

You just stared at the woman in front of you without saying anything. Thankfully or not, she didn't seem to want to be the one to engage in any conversation. The atmosphere started to be tense until you both heard new footsteps. You knew them like the back of your hand, and it was the same for the other woman.

"Hello Wanda." Natasha greeted her, earning a shocking expression from the Sokovian.

"But how?" The witch asked quietly.

"It's a long story, but we'll talk about it later. First, I need you to follow me." The Russian said. You recognized that's tone. It was the 'Russian irritated spy tone' that meant that whatever was happening, you knew that they had a lot to say.

~~~~

In the meeting room, the atmosphere was tense. Wanda was there in front of the people she could almost call family a few years ago, but now... Now, a lot of things have changed. She lost the last thing that made her smile when she lost Vision, and when she tried to find some comfort alone when everyone left her, everybody seemed to be against that.

Steve took a deep breath, earning almost the attention of everyone. But he was not the one who talked first. "So, are we just staying there and looking at each other?" Sam asked.

"We are waiting for someone." Steve announced, earning a curious look from Wanda, but the Sokovian didn't have time to ask anything before she heard footsteps entering the room. Furry came and sat in front of the witch while everyone still stood, a little unsure of how to act in front of their ex-coworker.

"I hope you didn't lose yourself coming here, Maximoff. You didn't write us any letters, so I thought that maybe you forgot about us." The one-eyed man said.

"I'm not the one who gave up on you." The now ginger woman replied.

"I like the new look, by the way." He said completly ignoring her acusation. "I don't know if any of them told you why you are here." When the woman shook her head to say no, he nodded and showed her the footage of your intrusion. "As you can see, we recently received the visit of a strange girl who said she was..." He snapped his fingers a few times, trying to find the missing word.

"She said her name was Scarlet." Natasha finished.

"That's right, thank you, Romanoff. Yes, she said her name was Scarlet, but it's not the strangest thing. Look at this." He said showing her when you used your powers to knock down the mightiest heroes. "See, I don't really believe in hazards. Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that she had anything to do with you. At least until you prove me the opposite."

"And what am I supposed to do?" Wanda asked, even if she knew.

"I need you to investigate her mind to know what she wants. She said that she wanted to go back 'home, but I think she may hide something from us. Like, why does she fight perfectly like one of my best agents, or why does she actually have some power similar to&nbsp; yours?"He explained. "I'll let you two weeks to resolve this mystery." He said while he made his way out of the room.

"And why should I do this?" Wanda asked, making the man stop and look at her.

"We both know that the young Maximoff is somewhere here, and I'm sure that she didn't give up the idea to help people. Roger will show you your new room." He said, finally, before leaving for good. The silence quiclky filled the room, making the Sokovian a little nervous.

~~~~

You were lying on your bed trying to process what happened when you heard someone stop in front of the door. You didn't have time to look at them before the door opened, and they entered.

"I never thought that someone would resume Dreykov's work." They said while you sat up to look at them. "I don't know if you know me, so let me introduce myself. I'm…"

"Nick Furry. I already know you." You replied, making the man in front of you chuckle.

"And who are you? Except Scarlet Widow."

"What do you mean?"

"I led the biggest group of spies in this country; do you really think that I will content myself with a false alias?"

"You led it so well that you didn't know that some Hydra agents were in your rank." You mocked.

"Oh, a funny one, I see." He paused for a moment to analyze you. "I don't know who tried to copy Romanoff, but I need to assume that they conditioned you well." He said, making you look confused.

"What do you mean?"

"You're not here to kill her because you would already try it when you came here." He continued ignoring your interogation.

"You didn't rep-"

"Maybe they sent you to kill Wanda and take her place as one of the Avengers."

"Can you stop-"

"Except your eyes, you look like a perfect mix between them. It's really impressive. And do you know what is more impressive? You don't seem to care about being trapped here. I don't know what Barton did to your little weapon, but it sent a signal somewhere far away, almost too far to be caught." He stated.

"But you did." You finshed now totally serious.

"It's obvious that you're not from here, so what are you? A khree? A Skrull?"

"I'm a human!"

He stood up and looked around before making his way to the door. "We all have our secret Ms.Scarlet but they will never last forever." He informed you before leaving.

[topsyturvy-turtely]

turtely's OTP challenge

read day 24 "Spikey Like a Rose" on ao3!

prompt: dealing with children

summary: My name is Rosie Watson and I am five years old. Today I got into trouble.

Gen, 593 words, Parenlock. Sherlock is a Good Parent. POV Rosie.

this. but 4 years later:

or read it on tumblr! TRIGGER WARNING: BULLYING

☺︎☹︎☻︎☹︎☺︎☻︎☹︎☺︎☻︎☺︎☹︎☻︎☹︎☺︎☻︎☹︎☺︎☻︎☺︎☹︎☻︎☹︎☺︎☻︎☹︎☺︎☻︎☺︎☹︎☻︎☹︎☺︎☻︎☹︎

Hello! My name is Rosie and I am five years old. Actually, my name is Rosamund Watson. But Daddy and Papa call me Rosie. They like it. Papa sometimes says 'Little Watson' or 'Flower', because Rosie sounds a bit like a rose. I like that. Roses are pretty. They also have spikes. I can be spikey too! Like when Peter from kindergarten was mean to me today. He said it is 'freaky' to have two daddies and no mummy. But I told him, "I do have a mummy. But I don't know her because she is dead." And also I told him, "And also, having two daddies is always better than having just one!" Then I hit him.

Now I am in trouble because Papa sits on the other side of the table and looks at me all serious. He says, "I understand you were angry and hurt, when Peter said our family was 'freaky'. But hurting people is never a way to solve your problems. Do you understand?" Papa looks at me with his serious eyes. I look at his curls - they bounce funnily when you put your hands in them. I wish Papa stopped being mad at me, and let me put my hands in his hair again. I look away, I don't wanna look at Papa when he is angry. My eyes start to hurt.

"I am not mad at you, Watson." I listen up again. Papa is not mad? "But I want you to understand that instead of hurting, talking about your thoughts or your problem, is the best way to deal with your feelings. Do you understand that?"

I start to cry, "I understand, Papa."

"Oh, Flower. Come here!" I climb into Papa's lap. "Why are you crying? Do you want to tell me?"

"I am just- just glad, you aren't mad at me. I am sorry I hit Peter!"

"I am not mad at you, Rosie. You just need to learn these things and that's okay. Daddy and I need to learn to talk about our feelings, thoughts and problems, too. Without hurting each other. It took us a while and some help to figure that out, too. Life is a lesson. You never stop learning."

"Like learning to read and write and count in school?"

Papa laughs. "That is important too, but there is much more to learn. About feelings and many other topics."

I think about that for a bit. Then, I nod. "I think I get it, Papa."

"Good. Oh, I wanted to say that I like what you told Peter today, though. You stood up for yourself and your family. That is important and I am proud of you. When you do that it is called 'loyal'. You're just like your father - he is a very loyal man, too."

I think again. I like being like Daddy. He is strong and smart and funny. And he loves Papa and me a lot. I nod, "Alright." Then I hug Papa. I put my hands in his hair and let it bounce. "Can we go pick up Daddy now?"

Papa laughs again. "Not quite yet. Do you wanna go to the park in the meantime?"

I jump up. "YES!" I yell and run as fast as I can to get my backpack and put some snacks inside, because I really don't like being hungry.

When I have it, I run back. But Papa hasn't moved at all! So, I ask, "Why aren't you ready yet? Come on, let's go!"

Papa laughs, then - finally - gets ready.

☺︎☹︎☻︎☹︎☺︎☻︎☹︎☺︎☻︎☺︎☹︎☻︎☹︎☺︎☻︎☹︎☺︎☻︎☺︎☹︎☻︎☹︎☺︎☻︎☹︎☺︎☻︎☺︎☹︎☻︎☹︎☺︎☻︎☹︎

kudos & comments on AO3 are highly appreciated!

tags under the cut :)

tag list! (tell me if you wanna be added or removed please 💚) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @catlock-holmes @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @baker-street-blog @macgyvershe @myladylyssa @battledress @a-victorian-girl @dreamerofthemeadow @oetkb12 @ohnoesnotagain @mutedsilence @jawnscoffee @lisbeth-kk @quickslvxrr @compact-and-beautiful @kabubsmagga @sunshineinyourmind @booksoversleep @startrekker2011

[severelystrangewriter]

Holding Hands (Flufftober 2023 Day 6)

Pairing: kei “tsukki” tsukishima x female reader

WC: 906

Warnings: none

Summary: just a short and sweet scenario involving tsukki holding your hand

Note: there���s nothing really to add, no thoughts only tsukki

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kei Tsukishima has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. You, him, and Tadashi Yamaguchi were practically inseparable growing up. So it came as no surprise to you when you started developing feelings towards Tsukki.

Being with the bespectacled boy was second nature to you despite his cold and calculating personality. What surprised you was how he reciprocated your feelings, having actually been the one to confess to you during your last year of middle school.

You accepted happily and thus began your relationship, which might not seem like your typical relationship to outsiders. He still teased you like he would anyone else, but don’t worry, you always served it right back to him.

To be completely honest, with the way you two acted, most people didn’t even know you were together.

And it’s not like you guys were keeping it a secret either, you were both just too lazy to “announce” it to the world. You both knew you were dating and that’s all that mattered.

Tadashi knew of course, and he was ecstatic for you both. In fact, he’s the one who would talk about it more than you and Tsukki did- always suggesting date ideas that he would inevitably tag along. It was kind of endearing.

You all were now in your first year of high school and you were a manager in training like Yachi for the Karasuno volleyball team.

“Hurry up! We’re going to be late for school!” You exclaimed to Tsukki as you both walked to school with Tadashi.

“Calm down, (Y/n/n). We still have plenty of time,” Tadashi reminded you, “What are you in such a hurry for anyways?”

“She’s just anxious about that test today. But it’s not like getting there early is going to make it happen any faster,” Tsukki rolled his eyes. Tadashi nodded in understanding.

“If we get there early, then I can go over those flashcards one more time,” You said like it was obvious.

“But you’ve been studying crazy hard this entire week!” Tadashi protested, “I’m sure you know everything by now.”

Before you could reply, Tsukki spoke up, “He’s right, you’ve done nothing but stress about it. I mean, you’ve hardly slept. Which is why I’m not letting you touch those cards when we get to class. Let someone who actually needs them use them, like Tadashi.”

“Hey!” Tadashi snapped.

“Are you trying to inhibit my academic career?” You argued.

“I’m prioritizing your mental health,” He countered.

It was then that you felt Tsukki slip his hand into yours as he tugged you closer to him, the both of you coming to a stop.

“Look at me,” Tsukki stared hard at you and reached out with his free hand to flick your forehead, “You’re going to do fine on this test. You’re smart. Stop worrying so much.”

You looked up at your boyfriend with wide eyes, he looked completely serious as if daring you to argue with him about it. But you didn’t. Instead, you found yourself nodding along, a determined smile making its way onto your face.

“You’re right,” You said.

“I know I am,” Tsukki replied, continuing to walk once more, this time with your hands interlocked.

Your smile grew, feeling a little lighter now thanks to Tsukki’s words of encouragement. 

~~~

School and volleyball practice passed fairly quickly, causing you to breathe a sigh of relief. You were ready to go home.

Tsukki must’ve been feeling particularly touchy-feely today because the minute you both stepped out of the gym he laced his fingers with yours as you walked to the corner store for a snack. It made your heart flutter because typically it was you who initiated contact.

“Hey guys- AH! Tsukki and (Y/n) are holding hands!” Hinata yelled when you caught up with the team at the corner store, pointing at your laced fingers. He bounded over and circled you two once, studying you both curiously.

“Well duh, they’re dating,” Tadashi explained with a knowing smile on his face.

“What?!” Came the chorus of exclamations from your friends.

“For how long?” Kageyama demanded with a suspicious squint, annoyed that Tsukki of all people somehow managed to get a girlfriend.

“Our one year anniversary is actually next week,” You smiled sweetly, giving Tsukki’s hand a squeeze.

“But… you’re so nice,” Hinata came to stand in front of you again, looking at you like you’ve grown an extra head as he scrunched his nose, “Why are you dating Tsukki?”

You offered a one-sided shrug, “Because I like him and he makes me happy. Why else?”

“How? He says super mean things, like, all the time and-” Hinata suddenly started cowering, being cut off by Tsukki’s glare and menacing aura.

“Like I said, he makes me happy,” You repeated, stepping closer to Tsukki and leaning into his side. He seemed to relax a little at your reassurance.

“Yeah, no, I’m not buying it,” Tanaka shook his head and crossed his arms, “Blink twice if you’re being forced into this relationsh- ow!”

He rubbed the spot on his head that had been harshly smacked by Daichi.

“We’re happy for you guys, really,” The captain said with a comforting smile of his own. 

You grinned back and after a little more chatting you, Tsukki, and Tadashi departed from the group to head home, with Tsukki’s hand snuggly fit into your own like the most perfect puzzle piece.

[falling-star-cygnus]

I need Billy comfort after the one where he got trapped under a building, can you please make him be saved?

well since you asked so nicely, how could i refuse?

continuation of this fic‼️ you don’t have to read it, of course, but it will make this whole thing make more sense :D @starguardianniom [your request is on the way, i just thought you might also like to be tagged in the part two :D]

without further ado~

"BILLY!"

She doesn't know which one of them screams it, maybe it was all three, but Anby lunges for the android's jacket- lunges really for any part of him she might be able to grab- until her hands close on red leather. The inevitable weight of his metal body doesn't cross her mind until she's being tugged down with him.

The feeble floor cracks further under Anby’s feet as she digs her heels in. That damned, annoying Ethereal shrieks- probably much louder than what she can hear through her headphones- and stomps like a spoiled child being told no for the first time. She'll put it out of it’s misery once she gets Billy- too still, too unresponsive- back onto safer ground.

Only ...Anby never gets the chance.

The ground jumps under her feet, and the tight grip she had on his jacket futzs.

Billy falls.

Hands and arms wrap around her waist before she can do something stupid like leap down after him. An action she knows is irrational but all she can hear is the way the android hits each level of the building and she needs to get him back-

"ANBY-! WE NEED TO GO."

Of course. Right. Clarity washes over her like cold water; Anby can't save Billy if she's dead too. And he would just feel bad if she got hurt trying to save him, because he had no regard for himself-

The remaining members of the Cunning Hares' fumble out of building just in time to see it topple like a house of cards- with their former client pinned in front of them by a slab of concrete.

It flails a little bit- kinda like a bug does when you grab it's leg- and they're privy to a front row seat as a metal support beam crashes into the weird orb of it's head. The thing splatters like a paintball.

None of them feel much remorse.

A few seconds of silence go by, passed by the girls simply.. staring.

"Well…. alright, Hares," Nicole starts, dusting her hands off, "Divide and conquer. Billy has to be around here somewhere."

'Hopefully.' goes unsaid, but painfully heard.

"R-Right!" Nekomata pipes up, her tails lashing with nervous energy, "I’m sure we’ll find him in no time! He can’t really keep quiet, anyway, y- you know?"

Anby doesn’t say anything at all.

They split up, taking turns calling the android's name and pouncing on any slight glimpse of white or red or yellow. Even greenish black would be better than nothing. Each empty nook, each second of silence, grated on their nerves until they were like frayed live wires.

Usually, Billy kept track of how long the Cunning Hares' stayed in a Hollow. It kept them all from lingering too long, unless they got stuck, and it kept them safe. Why couldn't they keep Billy safe- Now they had no idea how long they'd been searching.

Nicole had moved on to bargaining with empty air.

"Billy," she calls, heaving a heavy pillar to the side with a huff, "Come on, answer already! I won't yell at you anymore, or whack you or- or anything. Just answer us, please!"

"And I won't make fun of how you like to listen to classical music to fall asleep!" Nekomata joins in, from somewhere to Anby's left, "I'll even go to Random Play with you to find more, meow!"

"I'll watch Starlight Knights with you," It couldn't hurt to join in after all, Anby decides, "We could all go to the restaurant, and invite the Phaethon siblings, and-"

It was like something out of one of her movies. The second Anby pushes aside a new piece of rubble, she sees it. A tattered piece of the android's jacket- connected to tattered sleeves and sparking metal arms and a big fluffy head of white hair.

The relief almost sends the smaller Demara to her knees.

Time and place, she reminds herself fiercely, quickly signaling the other two closer to better excavate their friend. He's not in any form of good condition. It doesn't even look like he's conscious.

One of his video sensors is cracked, infected with a galactic black sludge that glows a mixture of pinkish blue red purple. The rest of his plating was pulsating green, and severe corruption was blooming anywhere it could take root.

It even looked like his audio processers were damaged. Anby couldn't even imagine how that must felt for her hyperactive friend- stuck in a silent, cramped space while Ether ate at his mind. Trapped without knowing that they were looking for him.

She hoped he would know anyway, that he wouldn't be wondering if he'd die alone under the weight of a building. Billy wasn't exactly insecure, but...

Anby shakes herself out of thinking about it. They'd found him, that was all that mattered at the moment. Now the Hares' just had to get him back home and back in working order.

"Both of you, stand back!" Nicole orders, aiming her briefcase above the wreckage pinning the android's lower torso.

The smaller girls are quick to comply, and out of the corner of her eye she can see the thiren swipe something golden off the ground. Nekomata shows it to her in silent explanation before shoving it deep into her sleeve for safekeeping.

Billy's little sheriff star.

A shot goes off before the smaller Demara can dwell on it, and suddenly the rubble atop their friend is being vacuumed up into the blackhole that Nicole manifests. They each grab a metal limb and tug him out of range.

One problem taken care of, another appears. The corruption blooming from his joints is excessive. If they take him out of the Hollow like this...

"We don't have time to think about it," Nicole reminds them all, voice tight with the weight of the android's life, "Anby, cut off as many of these... things as you can without hurting him. We'll see what we can do from there."

Anby nods once, and readies her sword.

One, two, four, eight turns to sixteen and sixteen turns to the very last one being cut down without mercy. With each bud removed, the sickly green light between his plates fades until it's barely there at all. There's not much to be done about the crack over his eye until they make it to a mechanic, but even that seems to lose it's glitchy appearance.

The Cunning Hares' don't bother with fighting the Ethereals they pass- there's no time- so it's mad dash to the exit that jostles the android's already crushed legs.

....Billy really was all limbs and pizazz.

It's only once the reunited Hares' make it a good deal from the Hollow that they stop running, doubled over and desperate for a full breath. Anby takes a quick survey of their surroundings as she gently lowers Billy to the ground, propped up on her lap to at least provide a little comfort.

It looks they ended up in Belobog territory, around where that eccentric mechanic liked to linger around. Gary-? Grail? Whatever...

Nekomata crouches down next to them and fishes the little star out of her sleeve. It's battered, and kind of dented around the points, but it still clips onto the leather like it never left.

Anby can vaguely hear Nicole tap away at her phone behind her, the curses muttered almost like a soothing balm of normalcy as the last of the corruption finally leaves Billy. His cracked eye returns to it's familiar shade of yellow- if painfully dull compared to his normal vibrancy.

But he's still unresponsive.

Still so hauntingly quiet and still. It's unnatural, and it isn't right. And none of them know if the android's going to last until tomorrow. Or even until the next hour.

Unbidden, Anby can feel her lower lip tremble- can feel stinging behind her eyes as she continues to run her hand through dusty white hair. It held none of the softness it did before this whole... job. Before her stupid grip had fumbled.

Anby hadn't cried in years, yet now she finds she can only helplessly watch as the salt splatters against the android's face plate. Like a mimicry of tears he wasn't built to shed.

"AhHh- Anby, don't cry," Nekomata frets, clearly freaked out by the uncharacteristic display, "He'll be okay! Bil- Billy's tough as nails, remember? I haven't known him for as long as you two.. but even I can tell that!"

Her puffy sleeves gently pat at the smaller Demara's face, trying to clear away the stupid liquid that was blurring her vision. Soft mantras of 'he'll be ok' are whispered, even as the thiren herself starts to cry.

Anby hunches over, would be curling into her knees if it wasn't for the weight of the unmoving android on her lap, and Nekomata clutches onto the lapels of his jacket and stifles a hiccup by biting down on her lip.

He wasn't coming back to them this time.

He wouldn't be there in the morning to braid her hair, or entertain her movie references, or lighten the mood with his silly Starlight Knight quips. He wouldn't be there to help them reach tall shelves, or distract their clients while Nicole emptied their bank accounts, or flail about with his lanky limbs.

Billy wouldn't be there.

...

..creak...

...Creak..

Creak.

Cool metal fingers brush past Anby's face, and then Nekomata's, and then fall limply back to the hard concrete.

"...don't... cry.."

...

...!

Billy!

Warm light finally flickers to life behind the android's video sensors, dimmer than normal but there.

Anby feels as though her heart's been restarted. Like the world had suddenly been bleached of color only for it to be a really badly timed greyscale shot.

Billy was alive, and whirring back into gear under their hands.

"You guys... really came for me..?"

"You big dummy!" Nekomata sniffs, ears and tails poofed like she'd been startled, "of course we did!"

"Have more faith in us," Anby echoes the thiren, resting her forehead against the android's with one final sniff. Nekomata rests her's against the diamond on his chest.

He can't hear them, his audio processers are still busted, but Anby hopes he can feel their care for him. Hopes he can feel how much they love him, and that they were here to stay no matter what happened. Just like he was for them.

Billy Kid was the heart of the Cunning Hares', after all.

[teddyeyeseddie]

The Cherrywood Motel

The Man With the Axe

rockstar!Eddie x housekeeper!reader

masterlist

(a/n: lots going on here, I am so sorry. do we hate eddie or do we hate eddie?:( )

warnings: angst, eddie is a player, drugs, alcohol, a sexual encounter, general rockstar lifestyle

tags: @yunnie-f1 @nope-thanks @meganwinchester -@daisyridleyyyy @ostricx - @aysheashea @emilyshortcake @ostricx@bebe07011 @miss-celestial-being @bblunuh @dandelionnfluff  @bibieddiesgf @erisdogwood @emxxblog @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e

now playing:

Days passed with little sign of Eddie. He locked himself away and barely peaked his head out of the room, only doing so for the odd pizza delivery. If he was honest with himself, he was wallowing. 

He wasn't used to having to chase, most women simply falling in his lap at the snap of his fingers. He wasn’t used to having  to prove himself to be worthy. But, to be fair all the women he had in his bed were gone by the next day, the night long forgotten as well as their names. 

He knew you weren’t like that, he knew he had his work cut out for him. The drugs, money and fame didn’t impress you the way it impressed people from LA, desperate for any taste of Eddie’s lifestyle. He was always happy to oblige, gifting friends goodie bags of drugs at his parties and even going as far to have a dealer on hand at any and all times when he was back home. 

He lived for a party, lived to be in the fast lane. He rode it without his seatbelt on, not fearing the inevitable crash and burn that would launch him into a life of loneliness. 

So, that's where he has spent his last few days. He was either coked out, high on pills or smoking weed. Not to mention the excessive drinking that came with the pity party he was throwing himself, fueled by self loathing. 

He picks up the rolled bill from the end table, running it through his line as he makes sure to pick up all the remnants with the now crumpled hundred. He groans and throws his head back once he is done, smiling widely when he catches a glance of himself in the mirror, trying to create the face of someone who is actually happy. 

He walks towards the mirror, studying his face as he gets closer. He winces when he notices the bags that have formed under his eyes. There is dried puke in his hair from the endless cycle of drinking and hangovers. Hair of the dog, he would tell himself. 

He doesn’t recognize who he is, the bright eyed young rock star now aged by endless nights of partying. Sure, he was still as handsome as ever but the festivities he took part in took a toll on his body. 

He decides a shower would do him good. He backs away from the bathroom mirror, turning towards the shower in order to turn it on. He lets it warm up for a minute before stepping out of his pajama pants and boxers. He jumps in, letting the water soothe the ache that has settled low in his bones. 

He gets out of the shower when he hears commotion coming from outside. He turns off the water, grabbing a towel before quickly drying himself off and slipping back into his pajama pants sans boxers. 

He was in a rush to see who was causing all the ruckus, his hair was still dripping wet, droplets of water painting the expanse of his chest and back. 

He's shocked to see you standing there, tears in your eyes as a man screams at you. 

“I don't care what happened, you are going to buy me a new suit out of your little paycheck and I’m not taking no for an answer,” a man with silver hair screams, he is towering over you, veins popping out in his neck as he becomes more and more irate. 

“Hey, hey, hey big man, no need to yell at the girl,” 

“She poured bleach all over my suit,”

“Sir, you ran right into me, I tried getting out of the way,”

“I do not want to hear it, I’ll leave my information at the front desk. I expect a replacement by the time I finish my stay,” the man bites, turning towards Eddie who is now towering over him. 

“Think you shoulda kept your head up champ,” Eddie retorts, a smirk playing on his face as he crosses his arms over his bare chest, the cool October breeze causing his hair to stand on end.

“Who are you and why are you even inserting yourself into this?” The man squares his shoulders, looking Eddie up and down. 

“Kinda concerns me, you’re raggin’ on my sweets,” Eddie shoves the guy with each word, backing him up against a motel room door. He grabs a fistfull of the man’s shirt, his other hand coming to grab his jaw and force him to look at him. 

“You’re gonna go about your business now aren’t you?” Eddie’s hand now moves from his jaw to his throat, successfully pinning him against the door. 

“Hey! What’s all this?” A man shouts from behind Eddie. He curses to himself when he turns around, a policeman coming over to see what the problem was between the two men. 

Eddie ends up in the back of a patrol car, no boxers on and no one to call.

His eyes plead with yours as the cruiser drives away, silently begging you to help him.

You push into the precinct 2 hours later, having to finish your shift before you could go and pick up Eddie. You’d drained your savings knowing it would probably cost a pretty penny to bail him out. You stroll up to the counter, asking for Eddie as you pick at the torn edge of the envelope you’d stuffed the money in. 

“Hey sweets, knew you’d come for me,” a voice comes from behind you. You turn to see Eddie waiting for you, a tight t-shirt now adorning his formerly bare torso. 

“Like my new digs? Apparently I’m the best junior officer around!” he chuckles and points at the writing on the chest of the shirt.

You hold your tongue when you walk towards him, simply walking past him and out the door. He follows, your silence making his skin crawl. He quietly gets into the passenger seat of your car, his hands resting in his lap as he stays silent. 

“You know I could have handled it, Eddie,” you finally break the silence after a few minutes. 

“You don’t know what he would have done,”

“Nothing if I would have just bought the guy a new suit! He ran into me sure but I should have had a cap on the bottle,” 

“No! He was being a cocksucker and deserved a little roughing up,”

“You were drunk and high Eddie, I don't think you should be the one to decide who needs to be “roughed up” ,” you’re borderline in tears, the idea that Eddie came to your rescue making you feel so many emotions. 

“I’m not gonna’ sit there and watch someone rag on you. You of all people,”

“I am not yours to protect, Eddie,” you say, your voice now softer, some of the anger leaving your body as you continue to drive. 

Eddie looks over and sees the tears running down your cheeks, the moonlight causing them to glisten as they fall. Eddie thinks you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, even with a red face and a runny nose he still wants to lean across the center console and kiss your tears away.

“M’ sorry,” you simply shake your head, not trusting you voice. 

You pull into the motel moments later, parking in between yours and Eddie’s room.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you say to him once you are out of the car. 

“Sweets wait,” his hand grabs your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze as he tries to rein you in. 

“Just leave me alone, Eddie,” you shrug your arm away from him, retreating to your room and leaving him in the cold. 

That night, Eddie wallows some more. He punches the wall after a few drinks,  knuckles now swollen as he tries to roll a joint. He indulges in anything and everything before walking outside and to the bar across the street. 

He enters rather smoothly despite the plethora of drugs he is on, settling into a chair as he flags down the bartender. He orders a rum and coke, turning towards the dance floor to find his pick of the night. He spots a brown haired woman, dressed in a tight red dress and black heels. Eddie decides she’ll do.

Eddie turns on his flirting, bringing the woman a beverage before slipping his room number in the valley of her breasts before whispering a soft, “You know where to find me,” 

She comes like a bee to honey, only waiting a few minutes to exit the bar and head over to Eddie’s room.

It’s hot, heavy and dirty. 

She is loud, her moans echoing off the walls and making their way over to your room. You throw a pillow over your face, trying to do anything to drown out the god-awful moans and the pounding in your brain. You toss and turn while you have to listen to Eddie break your heart one more time. 

While you sit there fighting back tears, you realize that you have no place to be upset. You aren’t interested in him. He was some rock star that would probably ruin your life with drugs and parties, he wasn’t the man you were meant to be with. But here you are, heart broken and on the verge of sobbing as you listen to Eddie praise the girl between his legs.

“Feel good, sweets?” the nickname rattles in your brain, the tears coming back as he chants her name over and over and over. 

Finally they're done, the room now silent as you listen to soft rustling on the other side of the wall. You wait for a minute, waiting for the sound of Eddie’s door opening and closing, signifying that she’s gone. It never comes. 

The next morning, you’re up early. The clock reads 6am as you make your way outside and towards your car after getting dressed for the day. You duck into your car as soon as the door to Eddie’s room opens, a woman in a red dress emerging with heels in her hand. Your heart sinks when you see her try to lean up and kiss Eddie. He simply turns his head allowing the kiss to fall upon his cheek instead. 

Eddie woke that morning with a jump, forgetting much of last night and the name of the woman in his bed. He nudges her awake, telling her she has to go so he can make it to a meeting. 

“Do  you have something I can borrow? I’d like to see you again,” She purrs as she snakes her arm up his bare chest, attempting to push him back on the bed for another round. 

Eddie shakes his head, pushing her hand away before getting up from his place on the bed and handing her the dress from last night. 

“Need ya to get out soon,” he throws the dress in her direction before turning to head to the bathroom. He splashes water on his face, rubbing at his nose to release some of the dry skin that has accumulated there. He dries off his face before returning to the bedroom, the woman now dressed. 

“I uh- called a taxi. It will be here soon,” she says. Eddie simply nods before fishing in his wallet for money to cover her fare.

“S’ only fair if I’m kicking you out this early,” she politely takes the money and heads for the door. 

That’s when Eddie spots you, watching in the front seat of your car. He turns her head and directs her kiss to his cheek, waving her goodbye before ducking back into the room to avoid you. He couldn’t look you in the eye, not after that. He knew he fucked up bad this time. The first two being minor bumps in the road in his eyes, but this one took the whole fuckin’ cake. 

You stay away from the motel all that day, deciding to go and hang out with Christa. 

“So he’s gotten high at dinner, threatened a man  and had you pick him up from the police precinct, and now he’s fucking random girls? I thought this man was into you not into trying to ruin your life,” Christa says over a glass of wine.

“That’s the thing, I don't know why I care so much. Like he is so bad for me in every way, Christa,” you throw your hands up in the air, a groan escaping your lips as well. 

“Just ignore him, he’s just trying to find a little plaything to keep him busy in this little town,” You leave the Eddie talk at that for the night, the conversation naturally flowing to other things that didn't make you upset. 

You return back to the motel around 10 that night, pulling into the parking lot to find all the spots by your room were taken. Groaning, you turn your car around and go to the other end of the parking lot, finally finding one. You park your car and make your way to your room, the heavy sound of music flowing from Eddie’s room and into the open air of the night.

You push your way into your room, immediately falling into bed. You kick off your shoes and strip down to your t shirt before attempting to fall asleep. 

With the music and chatter that is coming from Eddie’s room, you toss and turn for a few minutes before deciding enough was enough. You’ve lost enough sleep over this man and it ended tonight. You pull on your sweatpants, throwing open your door and trudging past a few people who were seeking refuge in the form of cigs and silence. 

You push into Eddie’s room, seeking him out when a girl approaches you. 

“Where’s Eddie?” you question, she simply shrugs and smacks her gum as she looks down at you.

“Dunno, but if you find him, tell him we're out of blow,” you roll your eyes, scanning the room to find no trace of Eddie. You notice a line is forming at the bathroom, the person at the door banging on the it as he yells for the person inside to “hurry the fuck up,” 

You make your way over to the bathroom, cutting in front of the man before you knock on the door. 

“Eddie?” you shout, “Get out here!” 

Eddie appears moments later, denim vest on with no shirt. He’s sweaty and flushed, mind foggy as he looks down at you. 

“Heya sweets, long time no see,” he sings, hand coming to caress your cheek. You’re quick to bat it away, staring up at him with a scowl on your face. 

“Eddie it is 10 o’clock at night, why on earth is your room full of people who look like they’re about to go to a honky tonk,”

“They’re my friends, see this is hic- Marc,” he shouts, pointing at the man who had been pounding on the door moments earlier. 

“It’s Matt,”

“Matt, Marc. Who cares,” Eddie laughs as he walks away, he heads towards his end table, groaning when he sees they have run out of coke. 

“Eddie, listen to me. These people can’t be here,”

“Again, sweets. Who cares!” 

“I do!” you yell at him, hands on our hips as you try to look at least a little bit intimidating. 

“S’ cute when you do that,” he points to your hips, smiling widely as he looks back up at you. 

The two of you argue back and forth for a while, Eddie inevitably snapping at you in his drunken haze. 

“Goodness sweets jus’ get out of here! ” he shoos you away, a man approaching him with a half smoked joint, Eddie indulging as you turn away from him and retreat back to your room. 

You sit on the edge of your bed for two whole hours, listening to the beat of the music pulse through your room. You’re about to lay down when a soft knock interrupts the flow of music. 

You open your door, surprised to see a barely standing Eddie at your doorstep. 

“Sweets, my darling. Can you help me out?”

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Chapter 15: Butterflies

A/N: I’ve had an absolute crisis about this chapter 🤣 I always do when I delve into Tech. (Haha snort.)

Warnings: mentions of battle and death, hand to hand combat training descriptions, feelings, ND behaviour, panic attack mention, miscommunication, Echo and Hunter being good parents.

Word Count: 5.2k+

Tagging: @idoubleswearimawriter @ravenclawbitch426 @dreamqueenkala @highlylunar

Masterlist

“These are the target areas,” Hunter said as he pointed to himself. He was in light civvy clothes, a tunic that opened in a V on his chest. A cloth belt was wrapped around his middle and his tan coloured trousers covered his legs. His trademark bandana was holding his hair back and you watched his finger as he guided you around his body. “The face is always a good target unless someone is wearing a helmet.”

“But even then you can get their ears ringin’!” Wrecker yelled gleefully from where him and Omega sat on the wooden decking.

“People have a weakness of needing to breathe,” you added and he nodded, a glint in his eye.

“Good. A throat punch, an elbow, even a blow to the ribs can have someone doubling over. Show me a fighting stance.” Thinking about it for a moment you put your fists up, angling your body and moving your feet. Hunter came up to you, gently moving your curled fists into a better position, bending your elbow. Next he pressed on your back, a hand on your stomach as he did. “Hold your core, tighten these muscles.” He tapped your leg just above your knee. “Bend. Good.”

You were nervous. He’d already discussed with you the need for being close, he worried you would panic at how he had to touch you but you assured him you wanted to do this. Needed to do this.

“Come at me.” His voice was low, non threatening but his stance was ready, crouching slightly with his hands open either side as he balanced on the balls of his feet.

“Any particular way?” Get a grip, Needles. You were stalling, trying to delay the inevitable.

“However you feel comfortable.” Well, none of this felt comfortable but it wasn’t supposed to be. You fixated on his tattoo, telling yourself that’s where you were going to land a blow. You struck and immediately he dodged. “Again.” You felt stupid that you’d missed but he also had enhanced senses, you had no experience, of course you’d miss.

You struck out again and he gave you a slight grin. He moved and you instinctively shadowed him. “Good. Come on.” You struck out a few more times, not even getting near enough to whisper a touch over his clothes and you felt the frustration build in your chest.

That feeling made you abandon all reason, rushing at him and then realising your mistake. He grabbed your wrist, spinning you in a fluid motion and dragging you back into his chest, an arm across your throat. “Never—lose your temper in a fight,” he scolded in your ear. “Use it, but don’t let it rule your actions.” He released you and suddenly you could breathe. “You all right?” You could feel his concern as you lifted a hand to your neck, feeling your own pulse flutter.

“Yes!” You gasped, moving a few paces away from him and he dropped his stance.

“Do you want to take a break?”

“No.” Rubbing a trembling hand down your tunic and tugging on your belt as you tried to get a grip on your panic. “Keep going.”

“Next, I’m going to put you on the floor. Ok?” Your eyes closed briefly, shutting out the world for a moment.

“Mmhmm.”

“Prepare yourself. Advance when ready.” He bent his knees, his feet barely making an impression on the dusty ground as he circled. You came at him again, swiping with an undercut and you saw a flash in his gaze as he dodged it quickly. He lunged under your defence, grabbing your wrist and pulling it over his shoulder as he turned. You felt him hesitate when you gasped, but then he followed through with the move. Bring his other hand up to fist in the material of your tunic, hauling you easily over his body and slamming you onto the floor on your back.

You cried out, you couldn’t help it. The air was pummelled out of your lungs and you were reminded of that time you fell out of the freighter. “Stitch? Was that too much?” He leaned over you, looking very odd upside down, brows pulled in with worry.

“I’m ok!” You allowed him to help you up, ignoring the way your legs felt like jelly. You jerked yourself out of his grip and his hands snatched away.

“I think we should revisit…”

“No!” Shaking your arms out vigorously you turned back to face him. “I need this.”

“Fine.” He pondered for a moment, his gaze tracking to where Tech appeared with Echo between some huts. “I’m going to teach you how to break a hold. Ok?”

“If you think that’s best,” you hugged, still trying to calm your heart and catch your breath.

“I’m going to put my arms around you and I want you to break free.” He curled an arm around your neck, holding you firmly under the chin and it took all your self control not to succumb to the ever drowning sensation of panic. “Try and break it,” his deep voice whispered in your ear.

Whatever you tried didn’t work, he held you fast and he wasn’t even hurting you. He accepted the blows you rained on his arm, even one on his face until he spoke again. “Concentrate. Think about how to break it. Put your right arm over mine…good.”

You couldn’t see where this was going but you did it anyway. “Slide your left under my wrist and clasp your hands together.” You could feel his arm coming away, the pressure lessened. “Now turn to the right, keep your hands together.” His arm stayed up, rotating at the shoulder to a 90° angle. “Make sure the arm is in this position, aligned with the shoulder, you see that?”

Yes you did, nodding as you waited for his next instruction. “Push up with your elbow and push my wrist down at the same time, move round.” You moved and he grimaced as his back began to bend. “Ah! Now drop to your knees!” You did as he asked and he went with you, falling so you didn’t actually dislocate his shoulder with the move and he grinned at you from the floor. “Good! That was good.”

“Yeah, Stitch!” Hollered Wrecker. You looked over to give him a thumbs up, noticing Echo and Tech were now watching. Echo sat beside Omega, leaning his back against a wooden strut while Tech stood, hips tilted so his leg was comfortable. He had his datapad in hand but his gaze was stuck on you and Hunter.

“I want you to do that again, but faster. Ok?” Hunter crouched and you knew this was going to hurt. Steeling yourself, you gave him a grim nod. The clone rushed at you, swinging you into the position quickly but the motion was too fast. You panicked, your heart rate spiked violently and you froze even as your brain screamed what to do at you. Within seconds he had you on the floor again, dust billowing up from your fall as you struggled for breath.

“Not fast enough.” You felt anger swoop through you, more at your lack of action than Hunter taunting you. Without thinking your legs moved, catching him in the back of the knee completely by surprise and he dropped with a grunt. It felt like someone had possessed you, shooting up from the ground and curling your arm tightly around Hunter’s neck and pulling upwards so that he choked.

“St-itch!” He wheezed, tapping on your forearm. You released him, backing away as you stared at your hands in shock.

“Now where did you learn that?” He asked, coughing slightly as he glanced at you over his shoulder.

Good, Kair’ta. Never let your guard down. Balance is a weakness, use it against them. Remember, their knees bend both ways, Little One. If you can’t break it from the front make sure to break it from behind and then steal their breath…

“I—.” Jango’s voice bled into your mind and you backed away. Their eyes were so similar, their voices individual and yet…they carried his tone almost perfectly. Wrecker got up from his chair, even Echo was frowning at your reaction. “I’m sorry!” You turned tail and ran, not even sure where you were going. You bumped into villagers, gasping apologies and skirting around wheelbarrows and carts. Butterflies rose in a cloud as you brushed past a fence, the faint rustle of their wings sounding like the whispers of your dreams.

Everything was too much, the light as it hit your eyes, the butterflies almost abusive colouring and your thoughts screamed as you remembered things you’d buried long ago. The trees swallowed you, offering a cooling shade and you stumbled to a stop.

“Fight or flight,” you gasped. “My nervous system is just on high alert, I’m ok. I’m ok.” Stress floods the body with adrenaline, need more oxygen, breathe deeper. You slumped into the high roots of a tree, wedging yourself into a corner as you hugged your body. “Pressure is good.” You whispered, wishing you were getting the pressure from someone else.

Closing your eyes you concentrated. Listening to the whispers that seemed to haunt you constantly, the way the wind breathed through the trees. The sunlight was warm on your face, the heat of it caressing your skin and eventually you found the grip on yourself relaxing. Taking a deep breath you absorbed all the rich earthy smells, the freshness of the fields just beyond the tree line, mixed with the sweetness of some nearby flora.

“Stitch! Are you here?” You started at the younger voice, crawling out of your hiding place only to see Omega looking around for you.

“Omega?”

“Oh!” She smiled warmly and bounded towards you. “Tech sent me, he wanted to make sure you were all right. He does that a lot.”

“That’s all I do,” you replied sullenly. “Make people worry.” She settled in beside you, looking around as the noises of the fauna started back up.

“I love it here. So different to Kamino.” Her smile faltered as she leaned back onto her hands. Her ankles were crossed and she made you feel completely at ease. She was calming in ways you needed and you let that wash over you. “Tech thinks he’s found a place to relocate the butterflies to, so they don’t bother the villagers anymore. It’s just catching them.”

“I can just imagine Wrecker running around with a basket,” you said and she laughed. Omega’s eyes appeared molten in the sunlight, dancing with mirth. “Echo!” She gasped. “He’d be swearing under his breath! He thinks I don’t hear him but I do.” The pair of you giggled for a moment, tapering back off into a companionable silence. “Stitch?” Now her brow was furrowed she dragged her legs inwards, crossing them and sitting up. “What’s it like?”

“What?”

“The…force?” Wrinkling your nose you looked up at the tall trees, the viridian canopy above letting patching of sunlight in as the breeze shifted the leaves.

“I don’t really know, it’s like an—awareness?”

“Like Hunter?”

“I have no idea.” She pondered for a moment, her fingers drawing patterns in the dirt. A tingle travelled down your spine making you sit up suddenly.

“It’s just me,” Hunter stepped into view with his hands up. “Came to see if you ladies were all right.”

“Stitch was just telling me how her senses are similar to yours,” Omega blurted.

“Is that right?” He crouched on your level, gently trailing his fingers through the dirt.

“I don’t think they’re exactly the same,” you tried to explain.

“No. I couldn’t have done what you did to save Tech.”

“Oh yeah! What was that like?” Omega asked curiously.

“Omega…” Hunter warned.

“It’s ok.” You spent a lot of time trying not to dwell on that moment, the sound of the blood gushing out of his wound still filled your ears.

“So everyone has this sort of light about them. I can’t really explain it.” You clicked your fingers softly as you tried to get your words out. “Tech for example, he’s warm and gives me the impression of safety. There’s a calmness that echoes from him and I can almost touch it when he’s close,” your eyes came back into focus seeing Omega looking at you with a knowing grin and Hunter staring at you with an almost identical smile.

“And then there’s Echo. He gives off restlessness, he’s not content but he exudes a kindness that can make anyone smile.” You debated going on about the continuous ache that you felt inside Echo, but it also wasn’t your place to spill everything about him.

“Do Hunter!” Omega suggested, bouncing a bit where she sat.

“Hunter.” Your head tilted as your gaze fixed on him. “Warmth with a little heat, yet steadfast and you expel a firm sense of security.” His eyes locked with yours and you cleared your throat, picking at the leaf debris on the floor. “Sometimes I can put colours to people, but I’ve never really focussed on that.”

“Can you see these colours?” Omega asked as she gazed at her brother.

“No, it’s just the impression I get. I can’t really explain it past that,” you finished with a shrug, feeling slightly self conscious you had just said all that. “Anyway.” You got up and dusted off your trousers. “I need to do Tech’s physio.”

The walk back into the village was calmer but people still looked at you with suspicion. Entering the hut you and boys had been given, you found Tech reapplying his armour, his leg brace in place as he adjusted his vambrace.

“Have you done your exercises already?”

“I have.” He sounded so monotone, refusing to even turn in your direction. You knew this day would eventually come, he was healing wonderfully and you were sure once the ache in his thigh receded he wouldn’t need the brace anymore.

“Impressive,” you murmured. Something yawned between you both and you crossed your arms in an effort to protect against it. He felt different, a little stormy which completely threw you when it came to Tech. Even in the most heated situations he was always a calm summer's breeze. “Are you ok?”

“Yes.” His replies were too short and clipped and it set you on edge.

“Tech…”

“I have a relocation mission to oversee.” Picking up his datapad and leaving without so much as a glance at you. As the door banged shut, springing on it hinges you cuddled yourself against the frosty feeling he’d left in his wake. You must have done something to annoy him. Before you spiralled into the never ending maze of your emotions you spied the headset he’d made, poking out of your bag.

Maybe some meditation would help.

Tech stared at the butterflies that lined the roof of the hut. He had found a suitable place for them to reside in, on the other side of the planet that was lush with flora. He had counted approximately 346 carrier butterflies all existing in this small place. He had worked out that they congregated near humans because these were the ones trained to carry messages during the war, so they flocked to what they knew.

The villagers were making cages to house them so the Marauder could transport them to the new location. As boring as this mission was for his brothers he had enjoyed working out logistics and being off Ord Mantell. He couldn’t deny, your company had been the only pleasure on the entire planet during his recovery.

Your company. Something rose in his chest and he tried to ignore it once again. Whatever it was, burned whenever he breathed and he got frustrated when he couldn’t detach from it. He hadn’t been aware of it at first, enjoyed the shared moments with just the two of you—but then you started training with Hunter.

He knew why, he agreed with why and understood why you felt you needed this…but seeing your panicked face as you put yourself in this position stoked something in him.

Witnessing his brother being the one to drag your memories to the forefront of your mind had Tech really wondering if this was the best course of action. Was that what was bothering him? Not the fact his brother had his hands all over you. You, who hated being touched and yet accepted if off Tech. You, who had never sought contact with anyone else and here you were letting Hunter…

He thought back to the moment on the ship, the sensation of your hands against his, how you’d given it so freely making Tech feel something.

A hot flush ripped through his body when he recalled the way your face fell just now, he had tried to keep his tone neutral and not give away the barbed feelings he was experiencing.

His thoughts were all over the place when it came to you. It wasn’t something he was used to and he didn’t entirely know how to deal with it.

You were a puzzle he wanted to piece together and he knew most of the pieces resided with you. His own searching had come up with nothing, either someone wanted you to disappear or the Empire had their hands all over it. He hoped the former…if it was the latter, it wouldn’t be an ideal situation.

The door to the hut went and he glanced over. You were wearing the headset and he felt a swell of pride as you settled yourself down and breathed deeply a couple of times. He admired your dedication to keep on top of your abilities.

Now, if only he could figure out how to obtain the butterflies without hurting them. Omega raced around with Hunter watching over her as she tried to catch a vibrant green one. Echo and Wrecker were bringing the ship closer as no Imperial patrols had been discovered.

Tech looked down at his datapad, he’d analysed everything he could about these creatures but they were almost impossible to catch. He’d even contemplated using the ship but there was the chance of sucking the creatures into the engines and he was sure Omega would not approve.

He allowed himself a sigh, adjusting his goggles with his forefinger and thumb and watching the numbers jolt slightly with the movement. This whole scenario wasn’t something he was used to dealing with, he had no statistics to go by and he couldn’t correctly guess the outcome of something so menial.

His gaze wandered back to you, sitting crossed legged on the ground, hands loose in your lap and a blank expression on your face. He blinked when a butterfly landed on your wrist and you didn’t flinch. He grunted a little, the ache in his leg flared whenever he moved and it was sore after his gruelling exercises.

As he watched more and more butterflies gathered around you, pressing the tips of their wings together and creating a glittering dust that settled on your clothes. He expected them to fly away as he approached, the hiss of his brace usually disturbed them but they stayed settled all over you.

Debating this interesting show of behaviour, he tested a theory by reaching for one. As he assessed, the creature was docile and went easily. It crawled onto his vambrace and he typed quickly into his datapad. Making a note of the behaviour, how long you’d been meditating and how many you had attracted. He moved away, prepared to sit and watch for a duration.

Echo landed the ship, engines disturbing the butterflies and they rose in a solid block, except the ones settled on you. “Fascinating.” He knew some Jedi had an affinity with animals. You had told him time and time again you weren’t a Jedi and he agreed with that assessment—and yet you still pulled off things he couldn’t get his head around.

From what Hunter had told him, he should have died from his injury or at the very least lost some sense of feeling from damaged nerves.

Tech observed Echo and Wrecker walking through the village heading straight to Hunter. He debated going over but then you made a move and his attention swung back to you.

They’re coming.

A battalion.

So many droids.

32nd company are gone.

Retreat! Retreat!

You heard the explosions. The earth shook beneath your fingers and destruction rained. You had never seen any fighting from the Clone Wars but you heard the marching feet of the droids in your mind. Their perfect unity with each step stomped terror all over your soul and you tried to pull out.

The mental imagery started to come alive, colours painting across the back of your closed eyelids as you saw the clones rush into the fight. Of course they did, falling like figures in the game Firepath.

All you saw were clones dying, their yells cutting short, their bodies littering the floor like pieces of scrap and you wept in your mental prison. Trapped, helpless and incapable of extracting yourself as the horrors unfolded before you.

“Why am I seeing this?” You sobbed, dropping to your knees and hanging your head in your hands.

“Because, Ad”ika…you are the key.” His hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up into that beskar helmet. Destruction exploded around you, dirt hissing like rain as it settled back on the ground but nothing touched you. Troopers ran past where you were sitting, barely skirting round you and Jango, both of you stuck in a stillness that deadened your surroundings. “Don’t let him find you.” Jango insisted through the vocoder, urgency forcing his words out.

“Who?”

“Don’t let him find you.”

Stitch…

As always, you latched onto the sound of Tech’s voice. Letting it lead the way free and back to the waking world which exploded in the shower of a glittering rainbow. Your arms came up to shield from the black shadows as they beat their wings in your face, only lowering when the last butterfly had left.

Looking down you saw your entire body was sparkling as you moved in the sun. It looked like someone had thrown metallic powder paint at you while you had meditated. Slipping the headset off you looked up to see Tech standing over you.

“You have solved my problem.” He sounded so matter of fact, so abrupt while you were still hurting over seeing the clones dying in front of you.

“Did I?” You snapped. Quickly you dusted yourself off, the shimmering colours falling away easily.

“Indeed. I was not making any headway in how to capture…”

“Good for you.” You instantly felt guilty for speaking to him in such a manner, hearing the way he swallowed his words as you stormed off to the ship that Echo had left near the furthest huts. Gonky beeped when you entered the dark hull moving over to you after you settled in your comfort spot in the corner. The droid pressed in against you and it made you relax, being back here like this.

You felt him approach, your extended senses tingling and readied yourself for brushing off anything he had to say. Echo came in quietly, understanding sat in his golden orbs as he eased into the seat before the console.

“What did you see this time?”

“More clones dying,” you told him bitterly. Echo sighed, crossing his arm and his scomp.

“I see that too. All the time. And I caused their deaths.” You heard the weight of such a statement in his tone, how his shoulders slumped and his gaze sought for some kind of redemption at his feet. the ache he carried pulsed with a life of its own and you held back the urge to try and comfort him. “It never gets any easier.”

“Do you wish you could do more?”

“Yes,” came his instant reply. “This…isn’t my idea of helping the Galaxy.”

“It keeps you boys safe.” He raised an eyebrow at your words.

“I am a soldier. Born and bred to serve, this isn’t what I signed up for.” You moved, seating yourself near him and leaning on your knees. “Don’t get me wrong,” he continued in a softer tone. “I am grateful, but Hunter is keeping Omega and his squad safe. And he should. I think I need to be elsewhere.” You worked up the courage to reach out, watching your fingers flinch at the feel of his red glove, his own hand flexing in surprise. Neither of you said anything, just sitting in a pool of quiet as you held each other's hand in understanding silence. You gave him a brief squeeze and let go when you sensed Hunter coming.

His shadow filled the doorway and you looked up to find he was back in his armour. “Tech has an solution, finally.” Your mouth twisted as the feeling of guilt rose in your throat. You hated feeling so at odds with Tech, especially after the pair of you had been on similar wavelengths for so long.

“We can finally get off this rock?” Echo sighed.

“Not just yet,” Hunter told him. “Another couple of days and then I’m sure Cid will have something else for us.” Hunter turned to leave. “Dinner is being cooked.”

Night had fallen. The sound of the fauna had taken on a darker sound, the deep womp of creatures just beyond the edges of the village sounded every now and again. You sat with the squad around a large fire before the Marauder.

Omega and Wrecker were playing a game in the dirt with sticks, scratching lines in the ground. Echo was staring off into the darkness past the fire with Tech beside him who was constantly tapping on his datapad. Occasionally he’d look around and you saw his vambrace was open, no doubt recording again.

Hunter paced around, his helmet was on as he surveyed the perimeter even though you were all safe here. Most of the villagers were in their huts, eating dinner with their families and putting the children to bed. You had enjoyed watching Omega join in today, her laughter and smiles gave you a warm sense of comfort and you had felt a similar feeling from Hunter more than once.

“Ha!!” Omega said loudly and Wrecker groaned.

“Awww! Again?”

“You owe me so much Mantell Mix,” she stated smugly.

“I’m not playing anymore,” Wrecker grumbled and made a show of turning away, his eyes trained on the fire. You smiled to yourself as Omega threw herself over Wrecker’s back with a giggle and started to tickle his face. Pulling a smile and some rumbles of laughter from the larger clone. He could never resist her for long.

Soon they settled down, Omega leaning against a dozing Wrecker as she read a novel on the spare datapad. Your eyes were closed as you listened to the cracking of the fire enjoying the peace they were all exuding for a change, even Echo was relaxed beside you.

Omega moved, the crunch of the earth beneath her told you she’d settled beside you, a featherlight touch on your arm confirmed it and you looked down at her. “Stitch…” Omega whispered, her eyes casting worriedly round the group. “What’s a soulmate?” It took a moment for your mind to process what she’d asked and she held out the datapad so you could read the context it was in.

“Oh, well…” clearing your throat you looked up to see everyone else looking at you, even Hunter was listening from where he stood at the open ramp, his head turned slightly in your direction. “It’s um…when two people connect on such a level, like their souls match the other persons completely.” You linked your hands together hoping she just accepted that explanation and left it at that.

“A connection? Like the Force?” Echo asked, which surprised you. Still they all regarded you curiously waiting for you to elaborate further and it hit you that none of them had ever experienced these things in life.

“Well I can’t compare that to something I haven’t…I’m not sure about,” your words a little stilted as you tried to express it appropriately, not prepared for the attention that was now directed at you.

“It’s love,” Omega suggested with a dreamy look in her eye. “I read about it in a holobook.”

“What holobooks are you reading?” Hunter turned to ask with an accusing tone but she just smiled innocently at him.

“Appropriate ones,” Tech injected. “I checked.”

“Love,” Wrecker scoffed. “What even is that?” He asked you, waving a hand around. You took in a breath, words failing you which left the silence to be filled by Tech.

“Love is just a term that people feel they have to place on a chemical reaction,” Tech spoke up in his info-dumping tone, causing Echo to roll his eyes. “It is just the excessive release of dopamine and norepinephrine, hormones that have a somewhat desirable effect on a person’s perception. It creates feelings of euphoria that can, quite frankly, be a hindrance.” Hunter unfolded his arms at Tech’s words and you swallowed hard. A hindrance.

“W-well, I suppose you’re right, Tech,” you agreed softly.

He barely glanced up from his datapad and replied with a clipped, “Of course I am.” For some reason his matter of factness and his blatant lack of interest in the whole topic made you feel—flat. You had been nervous to talk about something you thought you were beginning to feel, only to realise he’d never reciprocate.

“So these holobooks,” Echo pressed after sharing a glance with Hunter and Omega rolled her eyes.

“They’re children’s books, don’t worry.” You stood, picking your way over Wrecker’s splayed out legs, slipping past Tech and avoiding Hunter’s knowing gaze as you disappeared into the cockpit. You sat in your usual seat, lifting your legs up to hug your knees, using the natural bounce of the chair to rock slightly. Luckily Echo had oiled them recently so the squeak was non-existent.

Again that feeling of being off kilter loomed, your entire centre had been misplaced and you weren’t sure how to correct it.

You felt Hunter come up beside you, his presence just there for a moment until he moved to sit in Tech’s seat. He spun it round, eyes looking up at the canopy, arms crossed and legs apart in an effort to look casual. You knew he was there to say something, you knew he had seen your expression change and he wanted to make sure you were ok.

“Go on,” you said and he sighed.

“I see it. He doesn’t.” You kept your expression impassive, hoping not to give any of yourself away and Hunter cocked an eyebrow. “I saw you two. I’ve never seen him respond that way before…to anyone.” Still you kept your lips sealed. “If you talked to him…”

“No. He doesn’t see it, like you said.” Breathing was hard, the swell of emotion was trying to fill your chest and you fought it all down. “He doesn’t feel it.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Hunter said quietly.

“Yeah well. Until he makes me think otherwise…” you shrugged, not able to finish the sentence.

“Just give him time.” He stood up and went to put a hand on your shoulder but he thought better of it and pulled away. His footsteps retreated down the ramp and you buried your face into your knees. Just give him time.

[asleeponelmstreet]

French Inhale // Arlo Dittman X Female Reader Smut

Minors DNI

The new production assistant for Magic Funhouse catches Arlo on a night where he's not being a total tool.

tags: Arlo Dittman x reader, smut, loss of virginity, mentions of a degradation kink, alcohol and marijuana use, slight OOC Arlo because he's relatively calm and I'm still working on getting his voice right

Author's note: I have no idea if there is even an audience for this, but I really want to start posting fan fiction, specifically smut and this is the first one I've ever written that I've actually finished. I have a few other WIPs that I would like to post soon for Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel, but if someone ends up liking this maybe I'll delve more into the Brandon Rogers cinematic universe.

I wanted this to be a reader fic, but its my first time writing something like this for others and I made the mistake of making the reader bi and a former stoner so it might be harder for some readers to relate to.

Last note before we get to the good stuff, this came from the fact that I have a degradation kink and would love to be screamed at by Arlo. But I realized that poor man child is a virgin and I wanted his first time to be nice.

By your second week working on the set of Magic Funhouse, you felt like you were finally getting the hang of things. The cast and crew were chaotic to say the least and the star — specifically — was a massive tool. But you were getting to know some of their little quirks and learning the best ways to deescalate the absolutely batshit insane situations they found themselves in.

As their new executive producer, you did everything from man the lights and switch board to fixing the camera whenever one of them inevitably knocked it over and going on coffee runs. It wasn’t the best job, but it was a start and you were beginning to think you might actually be good at it.

Arlo had even stopped using the air horn to tell you when you messed up, opting instead to hurl verbal insults at you. But that was the beginning to be a new problem. You had always liked to be degraded in the bedroom but you never thought it would leak its way into your professional life.

There was something about that man-child, even if he was a total dick face, that made you wish he was bending you over a table while he degraded you. It made you fight back. And in a way, that you thought at least, brought a twinkle to those crazy eyes.

You were about to leave for the night, so you thought you’d try and get a few more words in with the performer before going home and spending the rest of the night with your vibrator. You knocked on his dressing room door.

“Who the fuck is it?” He yelled out.

You opened the door and started to say, “Hey it’s me” when you realized he was quickly pulling his hand out of his pants, trying to brush it off. He looked flushed and high, but he always looked high so that wasn’t new. “Sorry, Arlo. I shouldn’t have walked in like that.” You said sheepishly, thinking about how you would be keeping this image of him in your brain for later.

“Yeah, you really fucking shouldn’t have. What FUCK do you want?” He was yelling but keeping his hands on either sides of legs, looking a bit stiff.

“Oh, I just finished everything I needed to do for the day. And I was going to head out for the night, but I wanted to see if you needed any help with anything before I left.” You felt yourself starting to ramble, nervously you fidgeted with the hem of your skirt.

“Uh, yeah. I do need your help.” He said, which honestly surprised you. You raised your eyebrows, thinking about what you assumed the man had been doing moments ago. Was that what he needed help with? Even if he made your pussy wet, you weren’t sure if that was something you’d be willing to do.

“You do?” You asked him, realizing it was almost nine and that you were the last two in the studio.

“Yeah, I need help finishing this bottle.” He grinned. “And the rest of this fucking weed.”

Umm, what? Normally, you wouldn’t get fucked up with coworkers but you knew this job was pretty unconventional. And you hadn’t had a drink in a while or touched weed since college.

You stood there for a moment trying to decide what to do, but then your curiosity and hormones got the best of you so you sat down next to him and took the bottle from his hands taking a swig. You didn’t finish swallowing before motioning to him to hand you the taxidermied cat bong he was holding.

He obliged lying back on the couch with his hands folded behind his head watching you as if he was judging you and this was some sort of initiation into a secret club. You inhaled and instantly felt like a high schooler again before exhaling the way you always did with a little French inhale.

“That was hot,” he said, looking at you his eyes looking glassy and heated. You tried not to take his comment too seriously, but you felt warmth rush to your lower stomach just at his comment. “Teach me how to do that,” he demanded.

“I don’t really know how to teach it. I learned how to do it in high school and I’ve just always done it that way ever since.” There you go rambling again. Was it extra warm in his dressing room or was it just you? “This girl I liked did it and I thought it was hot, so I thought if I did it. I’d be hot too, I guess. Glad to know it still works.”

His face turned and he looked down at his lap and you realized what a mistake you had made. Mentioning high school probably was a trigger for him. You knew his past. You knew he had been in a coma since he was a child and only woke up a few years ago. No wonder he was such an asshole, he missed all the years when everyone is an asshole before most of them grow up and grow out of it.

“I can try and teach you, but I need to hit it again to try and think of how I can explain it. It’s basically instinct to me at this point.” He handed it back to you and you took another hit, this time really thinking about the motions of what you were doing.

“Okay so you take a large puff and hold it in your mouth… then you part your lips slowly letting it escape out of your mouth and maybe like use your tongue to push it up and out. That’s when you inhale through your nose.”

“Okay, okay. I got this. Give it to me,” he snatched the bong from your hands and gave it a shot. He failed miserably and even started coughing a bit. You reached forward and patted his back in a sad attempt to comfort him. Whatever it was, it was weird and you yanked your hand back as if you were a child who just touched a hot stove.

“It’s okay. It’s a bit hard at first. I remember I used to just sit in front of the mirror and watch myself for hours before I actually got it right. I never ended up learning any other tricks. They’re all hard.” He looked up at you, eyes wide and even more bloodshot than before. You wondered how red your eyes were about to be. He looked so soft and almost sweet and you realized this was one of the most pleasant and calm moments you had ever spent with him. “Try again. Maybe jut out your jaw a bit when you release the smoke. That might make it easier.”

He hit it again and you leaned back on the couch taking a swig of the bottle as you watched him. The drink wasn’t very good but you hadn’t been properly sauced in a while and decided tonight would be as good as any. It would also calm your nerves a bit. You hoped he didn’t notice the way your hands shook when you had pulled back from touching him.

This time he wasn’t quite there but it was definitely better than before. At least he wasn’t coughing. “You’re getting better,” You said with a smile that he reciprocated. Man, almost-nice Arlo was weird.

“I’ll keep practicing. But I’ve been hogging it. Your turn.” He handed it to you, and you questioned if you should keep going. You had been a major stoner in high school and college, but you stopped when you realized how lazy it was making you. You knew that even though your tolerance had been high at one point, it most definitely wasn’t anymore. But part of you wanted to see where the night went if you lost a bit of control.

You hit it again, and realized you were already feeling really high from the first two hits. And the warmth in your belly was growing from the combination of the alcohol and being so close to such a pretty man.

You handed the bong back to him, but he just set it down on the table. “You look really stoned,” he said.

“Ugh, do I? I haven’t smoked in a few years so my tolerance is low. I thought yours would be high though Arlo, but your eyes are bloodshot as hell.”

“This is some good shit. Something with moon rocks.” Your eyes widened at that. It would be a while before you were able to drive home. You resigned to drink a little more since now you knew you were stuck here for a while longer. “Shit, I remember moon rocks. I’m already feeling it but I’m about to be fucking weird.”

“About to be?” You smacked him on the chest playfully hoping it didn’t come across too much as flirting but also wondering if that wouldn’t be so bad. This side of Arlo, without the stressors and spotlights, was actually nice.

The two of you talked for hours about so many random subjects, about the show and other crew, your rebellious past and you even broached the subject of his parents and the coma at one point. He joked and teased but you dished it right back out to him, but it was fun. You were really enjoying him for once. Not just wanting him to hate fuck you against a wall.

At a certain point, he even mastered the French inhale and you stood up on the table and applauded, having forgotten about your plans to sober up at some point you had continued to drink and smoke here and there. You were still standing on the table, doing your best impression of Cronis kissing his stacks of money when you tripped and almost fell but he caught you, a little clumsily but he caught you.

Your skirt had ridden up, certainly giving him a decent view of your lace underwear (you liked to feel pretty even if no one was going to see you in them). The feeling of your breasts pressed against his chest even through the fabric of your shirts made you exhale sharply. He huffed, eyes locking with yours for a moment before setting you down on the couch and sitting a little further away from you than before. You were a bit confused, but pretty fucked up and horny so you made a strange decision.

You got on all fours and crawled on the couch to him. The v-neck of your shirt falling down, revealing a lot of cleavage. Heat rushed to his face but he looked almost scared. You started to regret what you were doing but you felt like you had to fully commit to not embarrass yourself. Once you were practically on his lap, you looked up at him with big puppy dog eyes. “Arlo, do you want to know a secret?”

He gulped. “Uh, yes.”

“I like it when you’re a jerk to me.”

His looked very confused. “Uh-what do you mean?”

You sat down next to him, realizing this might be harder than you thought. “Don’t get me wrong. I like seeing this softer side to you. But when you berate me in front of everyone, it turns me on.”

It looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. You decided to go bold, and settled yourself back in his lap. Your pulse quickened as you felt him go hard underneath you but you didn’t want to go any further before you got verbal consent from him. This was probably too far but your skin was practically buzzing from all the weed and alcohol and his lap just looked so inviting.

“Aren’t you a lesbian?” He asked.

You sputtered. “What? No,” then you realized where he got that from. The girl you told him about that inspired you to learn how to French inhale. “Oh, fuck. I’m bi.”

He looked a little confused.

“I like girls and guys.” You clarified and with that his face lit up.

“Fuck, that’s hot. I forgot that was thing now.” You wanted to correct him. Bisexuality had always been a thing, just less accepted and he was in a coma when people really started to come to terms with how fluid sexuality is but he grabbed your chin and pulled you in for a frenzied kiss. The feeling of his lips against yours, especially in this drugged state, was heavenly. He was a bit of a sloppy kisser, but you didn’t care and you doubted you were giving your best performance in this state.

You deepened the kiss, prying his lips open with your tongue and pushing it into his mouth. You ran your tongue along his and he let out a groan that made you squeeze your legs forgetting that he was between your thighs. Arlo bucked his hips into yours and then his hands wrapped around your waste pulling you as close to him as you could possibly be without taking your clothes off.

The two of you made out like this for a while, grinding your hips together and both making some of the most pornographic noises you’ve ever heard from yourself and partner from what was basically just dryhumping.

Panting, you drew apart to catch your breath but pressed your forehead against his not wanting to be too far from the dickhead. You could feel his growing bulge in his pants and your panties were getting embarrassingly wet. “Do you want to—?” He started to ask, but you cut him off.

“Have sex?” You finished for him.

“Fuck, yes.” You kissed him again. This time was a bit slower, less frantic. You ground your hips down onto him, loving the feeling of his hardness against your clothed sex. Then he pulled away. “Just warning you, I don’t have much experience.”

“That’s okay,” you assured him. “You’ll figure it out.” You dove in for another kiss halting to ask, “Do you have a condom?”

“Shit, no. Do you?”

You heaved. “No.” He practically whined at that. “I have a birth control implant. And I get tested between partners. What about you?”

“I don’t take birth control. I’m a boy,” he said with a shrug.

“You’re not a boy. You’re a man, especially if you want to be having sex.” You chided him for what was either a dumb joke or pure stupidity on his part. “When’s the last time you were tested?”

“Never,” he said. Ugh, this was disappointing. You were so close and the only barrier you had was an utter lack of condom. You started to get off his lap, but he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you back down. Shuddering at the feeling of you abruptly falling into his lap, he whispered the next few words. “I don’t exactly have any experience.”

“You’re a virgin?” He nodded. You guessed that made sense, but you had thought he would have had sex at some point since coming out of his coma. Especially given how frequently the subject seemed to come up on the set of the children’s television program he hosted. “Okay, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Fuck yes,” he said, before pulling you back to him with a searing kiss. His skills were improving, just in the last half hour or so since you shared your first kiss.

Just a few moments later, you pulled off your top and bra. His eyes glued to your tits, he balled up his fists into the material of your skirt. “Go ahead, touch them.” Once given permission, he didn’t need to be told twice, his hands went straight to your chest. He cupped your breasts and ran his thumbs over your pert nipples. You groaned at the touch.

“Take off your shirt, Arlo,” you ordered, but before he could even start unbuttoning it, you started it for him. You pushed it off his shoulders and placed your hands flat against his chest. “Pants too,” the two of you parted quickly. Both stripping down to nothing.

As soon as those boxers were down his hips, you grabbed a hold of cock and he let out of whine as you pushed him back down on the couch. You gathered saliva in your mouth, spitting it on his dick to lube it up before pumping it into your hand. As you stroked him, you could feel him throbbing in your tight grip. The sensation sent a rush of heat to your core and made you gush so much you were dripping down your thighs with arousal. You reached down and touched your own sex with the your hand, gathering slick with your digit.

Usually, you refused to have sex with anyone who wouldn’t go down on you first but you were already soaking and it was his first time so you didn’t want to put too much pressure on him to do anything he didn’t want to do. “F-fuck, Arlo, you still good? You ready?” He grabbed your head by the hair at the back of your neck, yanking your head in for another kiss in response.

You took that as Yes, so you pushed him to lie on his back and crawled back on top of him. You locked eyes with him before lining up his tip with your entrance and sinking down on him, reveling in the feeling of him filling you. You both groaned and Once he was fully sheathed in you, you stayed there for a moment giving him time to take in the sensations. He may not have been the one getting stretched, but you knew he was a twenty nine year-old virgin and you wanted to make it last as long as you could. You had a feeling he wouldn’t last long though by the way his face contorted in pleasure from the mere feeling of your warmth around him. You leaned down to plant a short and sweet kiss on his lips before you started rocking against his hips.

You started with slow, languid movements at first, but he clearly became fed up with this teasing because he began thrusting his hips in time with each of your bounces. He looked so beautiful between your legs and that normally loud mouth of his was shut other than the moans that escaped from his lips.

His hands wandered all over your body before settling back on your breasts. He groped them rougher this time, looking intently at the way your nipples pebbled at his touch. He rolled them between his fingers, making your thrusts onto him falter. The performer leaned down, sucking as much of your right breast into his mouth that he could fit.

“F-fuck, Arlo. That feels good,” you said praising him and he suckled on your nipple before, slowly released with a slight graze of his teeth against your bud. He dragged a kiss from one mound to the other on your chest and replicated the same motions in your other nipple. You were surprised he was even putting this much effort in, not just sitting back and enjoying the show like you expected him to but you were grateful because the divine feeling went straight to your neglected clit.

You decided you would take matters into your own hands so you reached down and grazed tight circles around the swollen bundle of nerves. The movement distracted him from his attention to your chest, he hungrily watched your deft fingers playing with yourself as he disappeared into your greedy cunt.

He slapped your hand away and you were about to protest, but he replaced it with his own. He grazed his thumb lightly across your clit, before circling it and trying his best to copy what he remembered you doing moments before.

The touch from him, though clearly a new action for him, made your thighs quiver and your thrusts falter so you were glad by now he was pulling a lot of the weight in that department. The sound of smacking flesh was music to your ears as he jackhammered into you. Tension began to coil in your lower belly and you started to lose any semblance on composure you had before. Your moans grew louder and louder with each thrust.

“Fuck, I-I’m going to cum,” he yelled out and you were about to tell him to cum anywhere he likes but you were too late. His hips stuttered and you could feel his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside of you. Spent, you collapsed onto him as soon as he finished painting your walls with his seed and kissed him hard. You wrapped your arms around each other and basked in the afterglow of the mess you made of one another.

You may not have cum, but you were spent from all the tension. You really didn’t expect to once you learned it would be his first time. And he came pretty close to getting you over that threshold, which you thought was actually pretty impressive for his first time.

He stayed inside of you for a few minutes as the both of you gasped for air. The room was silent, the sounds of sex having ceased and both of you too tired to utter a word. But even after he pulled out, he clung on to you like a life raft keeping him afloat. It was so nice to be held like this. It has been so long since someone had wanted to cuddle after sex. You were so lost in your thoughts it took you a moment to realize his seed was spilling out of you. You jumped up, surprising him and looked around the room for something to clean yourself up with.

His brows furrowed, “What’s wrong?”

“I need something to clean up your cum,” you said, your eyes scanning the room for something you could use. He put one hand on your hip, keeping you on top of him as he reached down under the couch to grab a box of tissues. He handed them to you and you thanked him before really thinking about how it was a strange place to put them. “Why were these under your couch?” You asked.

“You interrupted my post-show jack off session. I had to hide them somewhere,” you giggled a bit at that as you patted yourself clean before moving on to wipe away the cum that spilled out on to him and the couch.

“I fucking knew it, so you were just trying to get your dick wet when you offered me a drink?”

“I was trying to get to know my favorite employee,” he said nuzzling his face into your chest sheepishly, before retreating slightly to add, “I thought about what it would be like to fuck you but I’ve convinced myself I’d be a virgin forever.”

“Well, now you know that’s not true.” You said before pressing your lips to sweat soaked forehead.