#I have a vague idea about what would and would not fit but I want to hear others’ perspectives first

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere!John and abgail sharing a darling maybe?

Hm... I was originally going to make this general, but platonic fit better for all the thoughts I had.... I struggled a bit on this due to how vague it was but I hope my rambling was okay.

Yandere! Platonic! John + Abigail Marston Sharing a Darling

Pairing: Platonic - Sharing

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Isolation, Overprotective behavior, Minor violence, Dubious companionship/relationship.

John and Abigail are such a cute couple near the end of RDR2.

They manage to put together a ranch to live on with their son Jack.

Yes, things between them used to be very rocky as John wasn't ready to be a father.

Nowadays things have smoothed over (before RDR1), and the two have a good life together.

What comes to mind with this idea is a few things;

You're originally part of Dutch's gang and decide to come with John to work the ranch.

You're not originally part of the gang and end up being a rancher they hire.

You're a kid around Jack's age they took in.

I'm sure there's other options since it's so vague, but those are the main ones that come to mind.

For the most part I can only think of platonic situations for these two.

The two are already pretty in love and I feel their shared obsession would be someone who brings the two together.

Despite their past, they're nice to you while you work the ranch.

You keep Jack entertained and actually help with the animals.

I doubt the two were expecting to let you so close to them.

They originally just saw you as a worker on the ranch.

They pay you and feed you so long as you work.

But the two soon start to realize your company is... pleasant.

They're not entirely used to the more domestic lifestyle.

Despite that, it's nice to have someone else to talk to other than Uncle.

The two no doubt slowly see you as family.

They provided you a home when you had nowhere else to go...

Eventually they were going to see you as family, right?

You're a big help when John has to leave for a while.

Abigail and you have pleasant chats in the morning and you manage to help Jack pick out some new books to read.

John himself often enjoys helping you with the horses and occasional errands.

So, imagine John and Abigail getting used to having you around the ranch.

After all, you've been nothing but pleasant company.

Even more so if you came from the same gang.

The two learn they don't just like you for the extra help.

Sure, it's nice to have...

But you always manage to make the two smile in the morning or late at night.

It probably would melt their hearts if you called them your family.

That's no doubt been their goal since you moved in months ago.

At first they were nervous to be close to you as their past could put you in danger.

This was more prominently John's fear... yet Abigail has reassured him since then.

There's no harm in creating and protecting a family, right?

I don't think both of them are all that violent.

Abigail has fire but I doubt she'd be the one to harm others over you.

That job is most likely John's since he's used to doing such work for Dutch.

So there's no need to worry about anyone bothering you, is there?

For example, being harassed on the street?

John steps in, asking you to go back to Abigail and Jack while he handles it.

The two seem to be more subtle with manipulation.

John's mellowed out nowadays so he won't be very forceful.

Abigail wouldn't like that much anyways.

The two would want their obsession to stay at the ranch by their own choice.

In order to keep you feeling welcome I can see them frequently referring to you as 'family'.

Abigail often comments on how well you and Jack get along, asking you to spend more time with her and Jack on the ranch.

John is in on it too, suggesting he takes you and Jack fishing or out to town.

The ranch itself is rather isolated since they need space for livestock.

Although it also gives them the advantage of having you grow close to them.

They don't view keeping you at the ranch as very wrong, even if they manipulate you.

You've said you wanted to stay with them...

Which must mean you're attached to their little family.

Don't expect them to threaten you but they'd convince you to stay at the ranch.

Things actually seem pretty normal until you act as though you want to leave.

John often chases off any partners you have and Abigail keeps you busy so you're oblivious to their selfish desires.

If you wanted to leave the ranch, they'd try to ask you not to and convince you.

Yet if you do anyways, at first it seems they'll let you go.

... until John tracks you down to drag you back.

You see... Jack's been asking about you a lot and Abigail claims she misses your company....

John feels he should be preserving his family, y'know?

You may think you don't belong, You might have thought you found a better deal somewhere else...

John doesn't.

Neither does Abigail.

One way or another, you'll realize you belong with them.

Be that with some coercion... or John forcing you onto his horse to ride you back to the ranch.

The two don't want to force you into anything.

They want you happy... yet they think you'll only be happy with them.

You'll learn you belong here eventually.

They're your family now, so why would you leave?

If things get extreme... maybe they'll have to lock the doors as punishment...

Hopefully they won't need to resort to such extreme measures, right?

You're happy here at the ranch, aren't you?

It's not like you'll want to leave anytime soon... Not if they make sure they're all you have.

[ghouljams]

how do you rp with real people

literally the exact same way you would role play with a bot if that's what your starting point is.

But if you've never rp-ed in your life I'll break it down into the fundamentals for you under the cut.

Stage 1: Advertising

You have to start somewhere. Usually that's going to be finding a partner. This is going to read a little bit like a job posting but that's also sort of what it is. Here's an example, your ad should, vaguely, look like this:

Wanted: RP Partner I play: John "Soap" Mactavish You play: Simon "Ghost" Riley tags: apocalypse au, "came back wrong" Soap, gore, smut, angst What I'm looking for: responses once a week with a minimum of two paragraphs. Must be 18+. Potential kinks: stalking, objectphilia, blood, knifeplay, gunplay, whatever Starter: words words words

Give it a few tags and let people know you're open to discuss then you just gotta wait for someone to respond. This is an example of a character rp, VERY DIFFERENT from an OC rp. People will expect you to know the character well and be able to stay in character, that means there's a higher risk of people leaving the rp if they think you're not faithfully representing the character. I have left character rps because I thought my partner was butchering the character.

OC role playing is much more forgiving, but it's also unpredictable. You won't have any idea how your partner's character will respond to your actions, so this is where stage 2 comes in!

Stage 2: Getting to know you.

The first part of any good rp is going to be getting to know your rp partner. bare bones this means: getting a kink list with hard limits and "maybe" kinks(if it's an nsfw rp), getting character information, discussing schedules(when do you have time to rp), and what you want out of the rp(plot, au, reply length, activity, smut/fluff/angst/whump).

Kinks don't have to include every kink in the world, just the ones you know you're interested in and the ones you know you're not. This stage of the game is all about discussion. Sometimes you(or your partner) will be replying to a prompt and sometiems you'll be responding an open call for partners, either way you'll be talking about what sort of story you're looking for and workshopping the plot together.

I suggest making some sort of easy to supply bio of your character, plus any images you might have of them. And keep your kinks list somewhere that you can easily find it if prompted. You don't want to scramble trying to find kinks you think will fit an rp, just supply the list you have and discuss from there. Role playing requires a lot of vulnerability so be prepared for that.

Also important to discuss is what pov you're writing in, most rp will be either in third(most common) or first person. So get used to writing "name did this." This makes it easy to remember who is talking as you're building the story with your partner.

Stage 3: the plot, and the starter

Plotting an rp should be loose and fun. It can be as simple as "I want my character to accidentally curse yours and then they have to work together to break the curse" or as complex as a full book outline. I would try to avoid a full outline, because you'll have trouble sticking to it and you'll be too worried about satisfying specific beats.

let's say you've got your story vaguely plotted and your partner asks if you would write the starter. The starter is just the first response that prompts the rest of the rp. Your starter should include, roughly, these things at the length that you and your partner have agreed upon for replies:

A brief introduction to the world, this is a chance to flex your descriptive muscles and have fun:

The charred remains of a city smolder in the distance as the sun sets over a man-made desert. The sand is red beneath the man's worn boots. It's been a little over six months since the plague swept over the continent, turning friends and strangers into monsters. Three months since those monsters rotted to the point their muscles couldn't propel them forwards anymore. Three weeks since they sprouted and started releasing spores. The man adjusts his gas mask as he walks, hitching his pack higher on his shoulder.

A brief introduction to your character, if they're a known character in an au you should focus on how the world has changed them(within reason), if they're your oc give a brief description of notable physical features and a short background:

Known character:

The man can't even call this a desertion. Sgt. John "Soap" Mactavish, former SAS operator, left the service as quickly as it abandoned him. Too many people in too close an area, once the fevers started it swept through the barracks like wildfire. The higher ups left their dogs to die, and the smart ones ran. Soap wishes he could say he was one of the smart ones, but he was just lucky. Out on leave when the shooting started, his priority had been to his mother in Scotland, not to king and country. He felt like a coward leaving his brothers in arms, but what else could he do once lockdown went into effect?

OC:

The man can't even call this a desertion, more like a mercy killing. "Hush" had survived the fever, survived the horrific drug trials that had been pushed on the military first, and survived the open grave they'd shoved him in when he was deemed too far gone to save. But in the military too far gone only meant one thing: no longer following orders. When the virus had chewed up his brain he'd lost everything, except what his brothers in arms had called him: Hush. It's enough to keep the man moving forwards. He needs a shave, and a haircut. Six months have grown his hair shaggy, and his new diet has taken the softness from his cheeks. It's easier hunting when he doesn't have to cook his food.

And finally what the hook that starts your rp is. With an OC you can use this as another way to introduce character traits or another physical trait, with a known character this should be how they fit into the world. For this we're going to say that you and your partner want to do a "trying to get home" plot, and your character is going to meet their character by finding them passed out in the desert:

Known Character:

As Soap crests the next dune he stops to survey his surroundings. The desert is rough, and it'll only get worse at night. He squints at the blobby shadow that fades like a mirage in and out of his vision. He sucks in a breath. A shadow without an object to cast it can only mean one thing, it's not a shadow. He slides down the dune and races towards the blog, stopping short as it comes into focus. The huge body of a man left for dead out on the dunes. He picks up his pace and drops to his knees to grip the man's shoulder and shake. "You alive?" He asks, almost giddy at the thought of another human out here.

OC:

As Hush crests the next dune he stops and surveys his surroundings. 100 yards from him he spots a dark blob, a shadow that's been cast with no discernable source. He blinks and rubs at his eyes, since the fever they aren't as sharp as they used to be. A shadow without an object to cast it can only mean one thing, it's not a shadow. He slides down the dune and races towards the blog, stopping short as it comes into focus. The huge body of a man left for dead out on the dunes. He picks up his pace and drops to his knees to grip the man's shoulder and shake. "Hey," He moves his hand to check the man's throat for a pulse, "you alive?"

believe it or not that is actually shorter than my usual starters/replies lol, but that's the basics of a starter.

Stage 4: keeping up the rp!

No comes the fun part. Your partner will respond to your starter(hopefully) and then you'll be able to get going. But how do you respond? They just sent you this great response and you're not sure where to go from here, well there are two parts to a good response.

responding to their character's actions or words.

prompting them to respond.

This is why I like a 2 paragraph minimum for rps. You should always respond to their character, but you also need to give them something to respond to. Say their character is alive but they need water or food or medical care. Your character should:

respond to that need. "Thank god you're alive, hold on."

give them something to respond to as well. "Here, do you think you can hold a canteen? or- no let me hold it."

By giving your partner something to respond to you don't run into bumps of "what are you hoping for in my response." It's a lot like dating when you're starting out, you want to ask questions and prompt them to keep the conversation going so that you can both participate.

Dos and Don'ts

Do: write your partner's character doing something they did in a previous response

Don't: tell your partner what their character is doing.

This happens a lot if you're writing sex scenes between two characters. You can say "my character is fucking your character" but don't talk about how much their character is loving it and pushing back on your character if your partner didn't mention that in their response. This is a personal pet peeve of mine, but I've dropped rps because my partner was saying "oh yeah your character loves that" and I went "don't tell me what they like."

Do: describe how your character sees your partner's

Don't: include details that are not in the character's description.

You can talk about how your character likes their character's eye color or hair or skin, but make sure you're getting their character descriptions correct. "my character thinks your character's eyes are like swimming pools, sparkling in the sun, it's going to make blue their favorite color" <- fine. "your character's (unmentioned in the description) tits are so big" <- not fine.

Do: respond in a timely manner, and apologize if you're going to take some time off from the rp

Don't: disappear for 9 months and then send 15k words without an apology or explanation only to disappear again right after, and only communicate with me through tiktoks.

.... self explanatory

Basically be respectful of your partner's character and give them the space to say "actually can we go a different direction with the story. It's their rp too and you want the both of you to have fun!

Happy rp-ing!

[callipraxia]

Note: haven’t tasted any of these yet (though I did say “the heck with good sense” and order some samples; check back in about a week for proper reviews) and am just musing about what some of the components are and how they link to GF characters, at least in my mind. That established, here are Some Preliminary Notes, Just Based On General Knowledge Of Tea:

Mabel: I have no idea what a mix of spearmint, strawberry, and watermelon would taste like (I really like spearmint, but dislike strawberry and am indifferent to watermelon), but somehow, yep, I still feel comfortable saying this one just sounds right.

The Author: If that Assam is a good Assam, then I want this. I will note that I have drunk roasted mate before, but don’t know what it tastes like exactly; Stash used to have this salted caramel mate/black tea mix that was my daily favorite for my lidded work mug, back when we worked in an office. It’s also caffeinated, though I’m not sure that matters as much when it is blended with a black tea and particularly with Assam. Strong stuff, usually, Assam; I drink it a lot in the springtime because it’s one of the few substances that really helps with my awful spring allergies.

Dipper: I…don’t know that I’ve had passionfruit tea before, actually. The ‘passion’ bit certainly fits Dipper’s personality, anyway. Lemongrass is very nice. Sour apple is less my style, I like apples that are very firm and very sweet, but this also suits Dipper’s personality just on name alone, bless him.

Stan: On one hand, Lapsang Souchong is the famous “smoked” tea, and people who dislike it have been known to describe it as like walking into a casino with a mouth full of water. Personally, as someone who likes LS, I don’t think it’s much like that at all - but then, I grew up eating a lot of smoked meat (my father liked mixing in hickory with the charcoal for the fire in his grill), I still like a bite of smoked cheese, and my infernal sinus sensitivity has it where I can immediately differentiate wood smoke versus cigarette smoke (and occasionally, between brands of cigarette - I curse the day my grandmother switched from Salem Lights to Marlboros) vs cigar smoke. I set foot in the lobby of a casino precisely once in my life, then had to flee because of the overwhelming stink of cigarette smoke was making me sick even from a room’s width away….

Oh, wait, we weren’t here for my personal anecdotes and oddly specific knowledge bases, were we? I get sentimental sometimes, which ironically fits Stan as well as an association with a casino does, if that’s how you experience Lapsang. There are a lot of different experiences you can have with Lapsang, from smooth to very ‘prickly’ feeling, sour or sweet, the base can taste woody (which isn’t a bad thing in tea) or overpoweringly naturally fruity, in a dark forest fruits kind of way…complicated stuff, so also appropriate for Stan in that way. Caramel is a lovely sweet flavor, close enough to toffee that Lapsang and caramel could bring to mind both bacon and toffee, two of Stan’s favorite food items. It occurs to me that peanut isn’t really a note I’ve seen in tea…possibly adding a bit of some other nut might give a little nod in that direction, along with moving the caramel more toward toffee? I’d love to tinker with blending myself to see what I could end up with. Which I may actually be able to do - this looks like Adagio Teas, who at least used to have the ‘make your own blend’ option. I never tried it myself - or, in fact, any Adagio teas - but wow, this brings back memories, I can’t even recall when I last thought of Adagio, and had in fact had the vague impression that they weren’t open anymore, though good for them if they are.

I don’t know what a mambo is outside of a song about “mambo Italiano” that everybody sang like three lines of all the time when I was in elementary school (despite none of us speaking a word of Italian, unless you count ‘macaroni,’ and probably none of us even being able to find Italy on a map), but I suspect it’s here to prevent us from ending up with too darkly elegant of a cup - the base blend might hit multiple things Stan likes, but comes off a little more dark academia than any flavor of chaotic or animated. “Mambo” also may be Spanish, which would be a nice nod to Stan’s adventures in central and South America. Other ways one might accomplish that could be a touch of mate, or, if one really must, some coffee-flavor.

Ford: If I were to assign Ford a Lapsang souchong, it would be one of those raw-dark-fruits one I mentioned in Stan’s bit, ones where the smoke plays only a minor role. I think Ford would really like to be something like, say, Smoky Earl Grey from Fortnum’s, but I spent the past two years of my life writing a monograph on the subject of how this is a veneer, not his actual personality - there aren’t really any Fortnum’s people in Gravity Falls except perhaps Pacifica, and I think of her as more of one of those very…frilly-feeling French teas. But we’re discussing Ford…really, really good pu’erh can give you a sort of brain-sparkly feeling I can see working for Ford. Inadequate memory of what hazelberry tastes like to comment on that. Assam -

Assam, really, is plenty complicated on its own. Indian teas are especially characterized by whether they are first flush (the first round of leaves harvested) or second flush (the ones that grow in later). A nice Assam can have a lovely honey note, though the word most people use for Assams is “malty.” I don’t know what malt tastes like, though, so I don’t know about that. I can say that I can usually tell if I’m going to love or hate a given Assam at practically first sip, which, along with how Lapsang is very much a matter of taste, does reflect on how divisive the character is said to be in corners of the Internet that aren’t mine.

Stan W/O Lapsang: can’t see the description in the image, can’t comment on that one.

Bill Cipher: I can’t really imagine these tastes together, but I automatically want to revolt at lavender being included - I like lavender, you see. If I was going to make a Bill tea myself, I’d get a really lousy pu’erh - I vividly remember one I had one time that tasted like fish fried in over-used grease and which made me sick to my stomach if I drank too much of it even if I somehow drowned out the fish with enough of Harney’s Vanilla Black - and then throw all the tropical fruits in it, and then throw a red berry mix into it (I don’t like red berry blends, unless you count teas with cranberry flavor in, which your standard Four Red Fruits type of tea doesn’t usually have). This would probably taste bizarre, foul, and utterly confused, but it would be in character. Though really, if I was going to sum up Bill as a liquid, I’d probably go with a cocktail of antifreeze and bleach.

The Mystery Shack: I can’t remember off the top of my head if Pu’erh Dante is flavored or not, or if there’s anything extra to account for the ‘moonlight’ aspect of Earl Grey Moonlight, so I really can’t say much here, except that pu’erh and key lime could capture something of the sense of the place - bright and summery colliding with all this tangled mess of messy adult lives just beneath the surface. Can’t really imagine what that would actually taste like, though.

Mabel (Alt W/O Strawberry): “berry blast” is too vague for me to say anything without knowing what the berries in question are. I probably wouldn’t like it (see comments on Four Red Fruits blends), but it does match the idea of Mabel.

Ford W/O Lapsang: Fun fact: the tea typically called gunpowder green isn’t actually smoky at all. It’s named that because of the unique shape of its preparation, which make the leaves into little pellets that apparently resemble stuff you put into really old-fashioned guns. The best gunpowder I ever had tasted strongly of honey; the worst was a bitter mess that I couldn’t dump enough honey into to salvage it. Which is also kinda Ford-appropriate, in a way….

This tea’s primary interest lies in how it’s a blend of three out of the four/five most common tea ‘categories’ - no oolong or white tea, but green tea, black tea, and pu’erh? That’s an interesting combination. I’ve seen green and black blends before (Murchie’s of Canada particularly has a thing about mixing a little green tea into their black teas; results vary for me), though since you don’t make black and green tea at the same temperature, I must admit the idea has always kind of confused me. Never seen one with pu’erh in it before, though, so points for originality if nothing else.

@sovonight has Gravity Falls inspired tea!

Complete with their beautiful artwork on the packaging.

Get the tea here!

[nebulations]

Fish, 7 (For your prompts! ❤️)

Hi, anon!! Thank you for the prompt, you were the very first one to send one in! 7 was, again, the wildcard, so I randomly generated a different number to land on Yue Qingyuan (from Scum Villain)! I have no choice but to dedicate this to @bytedykes, because I told her about this prompt and she said “yqy pet fish mental health speedrun” and we went, uh, a little insane about it. Enjoy some yuefang, folks!!!!

“Mu-xiong,” Yue Qingyuan says. “I’m sorry to bother you. Are you available?”

“Yue-xiong is never a bother,” Mu Qingfang says warmly. “And I am, actually, yes. Is everything okay, Yue-xiong?”

“I think I need help.” A bit dramatic, perhaps, and Yue Qingyuan hates to trouble Mu Qingfang on a rare day off, but Yue Qingyuan and impulse have never been the best combination, and he would appreciate a second opinion.

Mu Qingfang’s voice turns hard. “Where are you? I'll come right away.”

“What—?” Yue Qingyuan stares at his phone like the blank call screen will tell him why Mu Qingfang suddenly sounds so serious. “I'm at home, but—”

“I'll be right there,” Mu Qingfang says, and hangs up.

Yue Qingyuan stares at his phone for another second, then lifts his gaze to his sparkling new aquarium. His new betta, white and black and resplendent of fin, stares back. Was his crisis of faith about his viability as a fish owner really so deserving of such urgency…?

—

“So,” Mu Qingfang says. “This was your emergency?” He looks about as unimpressed by the betta as it does by the two of them.

Yue Qingyuan feels obscurely like he’s being scolded. Mu Qingfang is one of the nicest men he knows, but that just means that his censure takes the form of a blunt instrument of mass disappointment.

“In my defense,” he points out meekly, “I didn’t say there was an emergency. Mu-xiong just assumed.”

“That’ll teach me,” Mu Qingfang huffs, but at least he looks amused. “Yue-xiong should get used to asking for help more so this gege doesn’t have to panic every time he does ask.”

Yue Qingyuan’s mouth almost drops open. He can only hope his cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. “Er—well, I asked this time, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Mu Qingfang allows, looking something horribly close to fond. Yue Qingyuan swallows and tries to hurry on.

“So—not an emergency, but I do want your opinion,” he coughs out. “I’m having… doubts. About the fish.” Mu Qingfang’s eyebrows contract. Yue Qingyuan rushes it out. “Do you think I should keep it?”

“Yue-xiong…” Mu Qingfang looks politely incredulous. “Why does my opinion matter? The fish is already yours, isn’t it? If you don’t think maintaining its upkeep will be feasible, that’s one thing, but… Surely Yue-xiong did the research before getting it?”

He doesn’t sound judgemental, but Yue Qingyuan feels his cheeks warm. “I did, but I wasn’t planning on getting a fish; I was only admiring the tanks. There was a salesperson who was… very insistent.”

Mu Qingfang regards him doubtfully, which is fair. Yue Qingyuan towers over most people he meets, and his bulk only further adds to the impression of immovability. It’s only when he opens his mouth that it becomes clear how spineless he actually is.

Yue Qingyuan falters. “I had thought… I thought it might be nice.” The bettas had seemed so majestic in their tanks, iridescent monarchs of false grass and plastic coves, and Yue Qingyuan had thought, wildly, that one might be rewarding to keep, might breathe a touch of life into his immaculately sleek living room. The whole affair hadn’t even been expensive by his shiny new standards, forget difficult to physically arrange. It was only when installation and set-up for his new aquarium had finished and he was left to watch that jewel-bright being swim disaffectedly through its new home that doubt had seized him, all-consuming and black. He had, admittedly, panicked a little after that.

(Yue Qingyuan’s apartment is very large, and very clean, and very empty. It holds the barest amount of decoration and muss to qualify as lived-in rather than a snapshot from a magazine ad. The fish may, in fact, be the only thing in the entire place which really qualifies as his. No wonder Yue Qingyuan wanted to jettison it from his life as soon as he got it.)

Mu Qingfang’s expression hovers between concern and simple confusion. “I’m sure Yue-xiong will be a more than adequate caretaker,” he says, more gently than Yue Qingyuan and all his neuroses probably deserve. “What’s this really about, Yue-xiong?”

Ah. There it is. Being the mildest person of Yue Qingyuan’s admittedly sharp-tongued social circle doesn’t preclude Mu Qingfang’s wit from being as keen as the scalpels he works with.

“I don’t…” Yue Qingyuan falters. How to express to Mu Qingfang how manifestly unfit Yue Qingyuan is to care for any living creature at all? He changes tack. “I think he hates me,” he admits dolefully.

Mu Qingfang stares at him for a long time, long enough to imply that he’s reevaluating certain opinions about Yue Qingyuan’s intelligence. “Yue-xiong, with all due respect to your new pet—it’s a fish.”

“Fish have emotions!” Yue Qingyuan argues. He flushes at the volume at which it comes out, and at the way Mu Qingfang’s eyes go wide-eyed in startlement. But the salesperson had been very insistent about that, as well. “Bettas are intelligent animals. They dislike certain colors, apparently, and they’re very sensitive—ah, to environmental disruptions, that is. And—”

Mu Qingfang’s eyebrows are still high, but his face has relaxed into a smile. “It sounds to me like you like it quite a bit already. Isn’t that reason enough to keep it?” His tone curls with sudden mischief. “Have heart, Yue-xiong—you’ve hardly known each other for a day! Give it time to adjust to you, and I’m sure you’ll win it over as surely as you do everyone else.” And he grins, sure and easy in his trust that Yue Qingyuan won’t fumble and shatter something so small and monumental as a life that he could cup in his palms.

While Yue Qingyuan is still dazed by that, Mu Qingfang’s eyes alight with interest. “Ah, Yue-xiong—what have you named it?”

“...”

Mu Qingfang’s face falls as devastatingly as it had lit up. “Yue-xiong…”

“Mu-xiong is aware that I was unsure of whether or not I’d keep him!” Yue Qingyuan is terribly aware that his ears are now heating up to match his cheeks. Mu Qingfang’s ensuing laughter does not help with that matter.

Yue Qingyuan is not very good at holding onto things. More often than not, he makes a mess of whatever he’s set his clumsy hands to, lets it fall right through his scarred fingers. But Mu Qingfang’s words ring through his head: Isn’t that reason enough to keep it? And, well, isn’t it? Surely Yue Qingyuan is adult enough to follow through on this. Maybe happiness can be look like his new betta swimming up to the tank to observe the new colorful form moving in front of it, can come as easy as Mu Qingfang quipping that his knowledge about fish is clearly lacking and vowing casually to read up on bettas to be a better fish uncle.

Yue Qingyuan buries a smile and walks over to let Mu Qingfang know that bettas can be trained to follow fingers around. The betta’s clear preference for Mu Qingfang over Yue Qingyuan is as good a marker of intelligence as any fun fact the pet shop worker could have given him. Yes, Yue Qingyuan thinks with a smile—he thinks he’ll be keeping this after all.

[crystaltoa]

So, the difference between Earth and Stone comes up in the Bionicle fandom from time to time, and that’s usually focused on what counts as “earth, “ and it usually boils down to “everything making up the soil except the rocks”. So, now I want to ask,

What counts as a rock, as far as a Toa of Stone’s powers are concerned?

I presume we can rule out ice and anything ferrous since they are covered by other elements, but what about other metals? Or coal? Diamonds? Salt? Radium?

[kalmeria]

i make posts for an audience of one (me)

[gemharvest]

FUCK it's a "I love my friends so much it hurts" kinda night. This is bad bc I should really be winding down rn.

[exopelagic]

supervisor was met. god help our souls

[bigfatbimbo]

Take a Bite

1.5k words,, Bill Cipher x Reader

summary — Bill and the reader have sex, which has proven to be very difficult seeing as he isn’t doing anything, and, of course, things are never easy with that insufferable brat.

warnings — SMUT, bill being annoying and toxic, dom!reader, sub!Bill, heavy pain kink, bill’s human form, the fat fuck not the twink

a/n — Admittedly, this fic only happened because I never see Bill sub in fanfics and i’m very interested in what the dynamic would be. You’d be like… domming with a risk of death.

“Well, slick,” Bill leaned back and gestured up and down his body, “Give it your all.”

Amusement was thick in his voice, along with bubbling giddiness. He fumbled with the seams on his pants, not out of nervousness, but as if he had forgotten how to take them off and was looking for some kind of zipper. One, admittedly, that he would not find on slacks. 

“Wow, human clothes are just as bad as the fleshbags. So needlessly complicated,” He sounded on the verge of a laughing fit, “Oh, and toots? Before you dig in, remember to leave marks. I wanna see how durable this thing is.” 

His amusement was not matched on your part. The situation invoked dull curiosity at best, in your opinion. The idea of harboring a wanted criminal, ex-overlord, god-like demon in your house challenged your idea of a good time. Having sex with that demon was even harder to swallow.

Then again, any situation with bill warranted an ungodly amount of stress. 

“Whatcha’ thinking about over there, sweet-cheeks?”

You smiled at that; of the few advantages you have, being in gravity falls for weirdmageddon proved to be one of them. You know of his powers, and with that, vague guesses on how to prevent them.

Tinfoil-lined bobbie pins were one of them. A guess, granted, but a good one at that. Really, not that complicated when you recall every alien movie you’ve ever watched. 

“Upset you can’t tell?” 

He laughed, “Upset for you, maybe. Trust me, it’d be so much easier for both of us if I could just read your thoughts. I’m already your roommate, how much closer could we ge- Ah.”

You brushed his pants crotch, and began to unbutton. For all his mightiness, the guy couldn’t work pants. “Careful, human body’s are touchy.” 

“Touchy,” He repeated, “Tell me about.” 

Getting his pants off was a task harder than it should have been, no thanks to Bill, who seemed to have taken to just lying there, occasionally flicking you, and then himself. 

When you finally peeled all of his clothes off, you warned him to brace himself, to which he ignored you. On top of that, the entire time Bill had been talking, droning on about ‘the last time he’d been in a human body.’

You wondered vaguely if he’d ever done this with someone else. In the time he’d been at your house he’d mentioned some ‘sixer’ ex-thing-ish of his. But you doubt he’d done anything with him.

As he’d mentioned, he hadn’t perfected his human form until very recently. Perfected is a strong word, he was pudgy and short, remanisent of a human peanut. And his teeth were terrible. 

Either way, you’d gotten him ready, and began your work. Laying a light finger on the tip of his dick, and running it down the base of his length, you got Bills first reaction: a short sniff.

Recovering fast, he adjusted his seat, “Yeah, tick tock, toots. This better be good.” 

It was his idea, you thought, but continued. Your fingers wrapped around the entirety of his cock and you began to stroke it. 

A sigh left Bills mouth, “Oh, this does have a kick to it. Maybe you’re not so bad, after all.”

Over the course of the next few minutes, you’d grow angrier and angrier. Although you were clearing making him feel good, he’d never shut his snide mouth for two seconds. 

“Jesus, slow down, pal— I just perfected this flesh-bag, at this rate your gonna break something—“ 

You didn’t realize how much your hand sped up. You thought for a moment, before completely stopping. Bill looked taken aback.

“Hey! what’s the—“

Without warning you grabbed his dick with full force and squeezed. He yelped, before giggling at the hurt.

This made you more mad, “God, do you ever shut up? I wish you’d lost your voice when you lost Gravity Falls.”

He stopped giggling. “I’d watch what you say, if I was you, kid.”

You threw your head back and laughed, running your hand slowly up his dick and then slamming back to the base of his cock. Finally, a reaction other than knowing bliss: anger. Weakness.

“Oh dear god, rearrange the features of my face then, Billy. See if I give a shit when you don’t have a place to live.”

His face turned red with rage, and he recoiled at the mention of your upperhand. And then, finally, at the slowing of your hand, a small, wavering whimper. 

You both caught it, and he was quick to put a hand of his mouth, “Sensitive human bodies - Hey, don’t look at me like that, that was not my fault.”

“God, you’re such a brat.”

“Oh please, what are you gonna do about it?” And he was completely serious.

Without much hesitation, you took the moment as an opportunity to abruptly sink yourself onto his dick. He sucked in a breath but you didn’t give him much time to do anything else.

“Ah- Now we’re talki—“ You slapped him hard across the face, and grabbed his cheeks with your hand, squishing them together, mockingly. Stifled laughter from Bill. 

“This is the form you spent all that time perfecting? I can barely feel anything. It’s worthless!” You sped up riding him, loosening your face to give the illusion you were bored, “You’re worthless.” 

His eyebrows arched down and his eyes widened, “I can kill you with a snap of my fingers! You think I need this sex— You think I need this hous— ah, ah—“

The unknown pleasure was getting to him, making his brain foggier than usual, and it was showing. Human senses were a key factor in your ability to keep the high-ground. Just as long as it felt good enough, he wouldn’t go back to his original form and… well. 

You wondered vaguely if you were actually going to be in mortal parole after this. But then again, the look on his face was almost euphoric, despite the anger. Thankfully, Bill was selfish, he’d probably chase the high again

You sighed, “Oh, you do need this house, Billy. Where else would you go? Everyone else in town has already forgotten about you, and your little maniac friends are no where to be seen.”

You sped up once more as your hands danced up his body, and continued, “With this whole out-of-sight-out-of-mind routine, i’m giving you something you won’t be getting anywhere else: attention.”

“You— Ah, curse this feeble human body! I’ll make your life a living hell-“ He whined, actually whined. 

Slamming yourself down on him, he cried out and then scowled. You raked your nails down his chest, deep enough to bleed, drawing out a  giggle from Bill as he felt the littlest bit of blood start to pool.

“You’re lucky this meatbag is— ah— funny enough—“ He was cut off with a gargle as a your hand sharply wrapped around his throat, and squeezed tight. 

“It’s not luck, i’m good at what I do, Billy. Not that you would know what that’s like, you pathetic shitbag,” although that insult wasn’t particularly true, you didn’t give him a chance to snap back, and instead put your other hand on his neck as well. 

You rode him with more speed than ever now. His eyes fluttered open and shut slowly, and he leaned into your hands. 

His face flushed, but a dreamy smile spread to the edges of his face as you made sure to leave bruise marks on his throat, still slamming against him. 

Although, you didn’t want to actually break him, so when his face began to turn purple, you let go. He gasped for air and let out a raspy, crazed giggle that went on for too long, and ending in a moan.

“I’m— “ Bills eyebrows furrowed, as if he was trying to decipher what the amusing thing the human body had planned next, “Somethings— somethings happening.”

His voice was broken, neck bruised, cheek red with a slap mark, eyes foggy, and chest bleeding from your nails. 

Before you dig in, remember to leave marks. I wanna see how durable this thing is.

Clearly you’d kept your end of the deal, and from what you’ve gathered it was time for the finale. You chased your own climax now as well, even though, admittedly, you hadn’t been thinking about it the whole session.

Annoying as it was that Bill still managed to make something all about him —and he definitely knew, mind reading or not— you still kept up your pace. 

“You’re close?” 

He smiled blissfully, and nodded.

What the hell. You smiled, “Good boy.”

His reaction was… startling. He leaned his head back, let out a small half-whine half-laugh, and arched off the bed. Finally, he released.

[alchemistc]

Part One

The loft is sadly undecorated. He'd tried, is the thing. Gone to the same novelty store they'd found on a random walk after a date, in late September, where Tommy had spent twenty minutes worrying a foam pumpkin in his hands while Buck tried to decide what sort of decor would fit his utilitarian loft.

They'd spent so long lingering over the sculpted white candles, Buck thrilled because Tommy's straight face broke every time Buck pointed out which ones looked like incredibly expensive dildos, that he'd felt bad enough to buy a whole set of them just to appease the girl at the counter who'd been watching them with a half annoyed, half wistful expression while Buck made a comment about dragons that had had Tommy biting his lip so hard he'd actually gone red in the face trying to hold the laughter in.

But every time he'd picked up a glass tree and thought how much fun it'd be to try to make Tommy go full Tik Tok Paramedic on him, every time he'd found something soft or plush enough that Tommy wouldn't have been able to resist running his fingers over it, plucking it up to toss it between his palms - well.

It wasn't like there'd be anyone in his loft long enough to really appreciate his decorations.

"Why'd you kiss me?" he asks, rounding on Tommy as Tommy takes a tentative step towards the kitchen.

"You were being annoying." At Buck's look, he elaborates. "Force of habit."

The finger comes up without any input from Buck, his voice tipping into that same flirty, bickering rapport he'd always pushed as far as he could. "I knew you did it to shut me up."

Tommy expression shutters. He recognizes Buck's tone. A few months ago that tone would start with a round of banter that usually ended with at least one of them with their pants around their ankles.

He looks spooked. He's staring at the island stool closest to the door like he's replaying the last conversation they had here, and Buck feels all his ire rear back up.

"You promised me clarity, Tommy." It's an accusation, and they both know it, because he looks ready to fucking bolt.

Slowly, he steps in. Half a yard closer to Buck, close enough to curl his hand over the island, and Buck is struck again by how goddamn unfair it is that Tommy looks this goddamn good in a suit.

"I did."

Buck's pretty sure he has some muffins he hasn't frozen yet that wouldn't actually damage Tommy, if he threw them at him.

"Can we...?" He gestures, vague as his half a question, and Buck wants to throttle him. Or kiss him again, which is -

"I need a beer. You?"

Tommy sighs. His grip on the corner of the island makes his knuckles go white. "Evan."

"No beer, got it." He swings the door open and doesn't wait for the reaction to either his snippy little rejoinder or the stacks and stacks of baked goods filling up the shelves of his fridge. He pops the cap with his back still turned, let's the fridge door fall closed. "Not like you drove here, but sure. One of us should be sober, I guess."

The switch back to Evan doesn't do anything for him at all.

Buck leans back against the counter and tries not to think about how he'd had this half formed idea of getting a real tree this year, finding some novelty kiosk that made those hokey ornaments for people to mark the years they'd been a family. He'd thought -

Tommy blinks guiltily when Buck catches him eyeing the way he fills out his slacks, a toe to groin drift of his gaze that makes Buck ache for when he could respond to that by dropping to his knees.

"That's a lot of bread," Tommy notes, eyes focused somewhere over Buck's shoulder.

"Why'd you break up with me, Tommy?"

Tommy freezes. Shifts from foot to foot. Sighs, and takes a few steps to the fridge, swings it open to grab a beer of his own. It's still the stuff Tommy likes. Buck's not picky, really, and it'd been habit to grab the six pack he always kept for Tommy.

The last five times he'd restocked.

Tommy takes half a step back to lean against the island, just off center from Buck, so they both have to twist their necks just a little to actually look at each other.

"You terrify me," Tommy murmurs, a few swigs in, when the silence is just starting to make Buck's skin itch. "Evan, I'm not -." He grimaces, frustrated. "I'm not some Super Gay who fights for justice and equality and the ability to make horrible television with Hummel doll sopranists."

"I don't know what that means."

Tommy's smile is wry. He'd had a running list of movies Buck's never seen on a note on his phone - every time Buck missed a reference, he'd added it to the list. They'd gotten through maybe twenty before -

"I led on a good woman for years because I convinced myself I could live my life ignoring a huge piece of myself. I hurled slurs with my buddies just to make sure no one noticed me. I fed into every toxic stereotype I could just to avoid anyone realizing I wasn't one of them. I'm not - I'm not some Gold Star Gay, paragon of the community. I didn't do shit. And even when I made the decision to let myself just be who I always was, I waited until no one in my life was close enough to me to question that I hadn't always been this way. I -." He winces. Shakes his head. "I run instead of fighting. I hide every time someone tries to see me. I'm not - this comfort you're so convinced I have I took at the cost of other people who were braver and stronger than I could ever be. Do you - is that an admirable quality, to you?"

Buck wishes they'd sat, like Tommy seemed to have been hinting at. He wishes he'd spent the ride over preparing himself for this, instead of stopping himself from crawling into Tommy's lap and getting a horrible rider rating for his trouble. He wishes -

"Do you think I don't already know all those things about you?"

It's - actually, it makes him a little furious, to think that Tommy spent six months thinking he'd successfully hid all those things from Buck. And - sure, he hadn't exactly been forthcoming about more than a few of those things, but like -

It wasn't like Buck didn't actively find ways to pry stories from Howie and Hen, even Bobby on occasion. It wasn't like Buck hadn't noticed the clipped way Tommy spoke of his past, his family, always tucking away more than he revealed. It wasn't like Buck wasn't well aware that Tommy Kinard had the capacity to be a total fucking asshole, if he wanted. Just because he'd kept it cool around Buck, made it just flirty enough for plausible deniability -

"You deserve better than that. Than me."

"Then be better than that, Tommy." It's not the best way to get his point across, but... "I've had multiple serious relationships, Tommy. I'm - I've been in love, before, and I've had my heart broken before, and I've had my trust broken before, and I've made people I love feel like shit. You weren't new and exciting, Tommy, we were - we were boring and domestic and it was the best six months of my life. It was what I -."

And this, of course, is where the words start to crest over, too many at once while his mouth tries to keep up and his throat is too tight to -

He swallows. Stares at his toes until his vision swims. Maybe those are tears, or maybe he's just stared long enough to go cross-eyed. His throat feels like he might be able to scrape a few words out

"I go too fast sometimes. I - I get scared I'm falling behind and so I clear a few hurdles too fast to catch back up and it -." Frustration rises through him as he remembers the way Tommy had levered himself up, spun away, broken things off without even a hint of the careful consideration Buck had grown so used to. "And you just - you tell me you want more than anything to be my last but you can't even give me the closure of a clean break! What the hell was that about?"

"Evan, I -."

"No! Okay, no. It's my turn to - it's my turn to be mad. It's my turn to - do you know how lonely I've been? How - how much I'm in my own head about where I went wrong, and what I could have done differently, and why you won't just fucking text me when you clearly want to? Do you know - do you know what it's like to think you've finally found something worth the humiliation of being known and then have it vanish in a single night? Over - you never talked to me about any of the shit you brought up that night, Tommy! You never - if you were so scared of not being enough to keep me interested, or so sure you weren't a good enough man, or so sure I couldn't possibly know what I wanted out of this, you could have saved us a hell of a lot of time and - and hurt by not being exactly the person I thought I could spend the rest of my life with! If that was all a - a smokescreen, some act, then why did you - are you actually so cruel that you convinced me we were falling in love while you had one foot out the door the whole time?"

Tommy's grip on the bottle looks painful.

"It's your turn to talk," Buck snipes, and he takes a little satisfaction in the way Tommy blanches. Just a little. Just enough to ignore how much he wants to rip Tommy's suit jacket at the straining shoulder seams and bite a bruise into that spot below his collarbone that even Tommy's undershirts hid well enough to keep the team at Harbor from putting him on blast for coming to work covered in hickeys.

"Six months with you was more devastating than two decades of hiding who I was, Evan," Tommy says, and it's a horrible opening that makes Buck feel like he's being drawn and quartered but he'd given Tommy the floor, so -

Tommy's eyes are a little too misty to call them anything but welling, and Buck hates it as much as it satisfies the pieces of himself he's spent weeks trying to pick up and glue back together.

"Evan, I lived with Abby for years and I don't think I saw her as much as I saw you. You -." He swipes a hand through his hair, and rustles one of his Superman curls loose to drape tauntingly over his forehead. Buck wants to bite him. He wants it to hurt. "You burrowed in and you just kept digging and I didn't take a second to question it until it was too late."

"Too late for what?"

"For me to take the cowards way out and leave before it hurt."

"Maybe I should have dug further," Buck snaps, and Tommy's gaze flits to his. Holds, for the first time all night. He's breathtaking in the best and worst way possible. He's spent weeks now trying to imagine anyone else ever making him feel the way prolonged eye contact with this man makes him feel.

"You did," Tommy admits, a confession that sounds like it's been gut punched right out of him. "You still -." Another grimace, Tommy pulling back, pulling away, hiding, running, and Buck can't -

"So what is this, Tommy? Is this - are you -?" He shakes his head to clear the cobwebs. Rears up, pushes off the counter, and Tommy's eyes widen like he's just now realized he doesn't have an easy exit. Buck just stands there, though. "If this is it, let this be it. If you don't want - if you're not willing to fight for this with me, tell me now. I know I'm - I know I'm a lot. I know I push for more when I'm scared. I know I'm overwhelming, and I sometimes can't stop talking to save my life, and I know I'm jealous and petty and - I know I'm not perfect."

Tommy sets his bottle on the counter beside him. Worries his lip between his teeth and rolls his jaw.

"You snore. You're a bitch sometimes and every once in a while it's not even charming. You hog all the covers and then you complain that it's too hot. You're vague about every single thing in your past that you think makes you seem like a bad person. You always think food needs more garlic and sometimes you're wrong. Sometimes when I spiral you just give me that stupid indulgent smile of yours and I know you stopped listening two reddit threads ago. When you're grumpy sometimes it takes everything in me not to pick a fight because you're such an asshole. You get cagey every time I pick at a thread you don't want to unravel and I - I hate it. I wanted a life with you and you couldn't stick around long enough to tell me why you were too afraid to go for it. So if - if you think I'm seeing you with rose colored glasses, or whatever. If you think I'm not - if you think being the first guy makes you too special for this to be real then just..." He sucks in a breath. Blows it out through his nose and feels the ache in his chest that's half remnants of his earlier panic attack and half fear that Tommy will actually turn and walk out at the end of this. "If you don't wanna fight for this I'll fill in the hole I dug as best I can and I'll leave you alone, okay?"

The look on Tommy's face is one he's never seen before. They've done this dance, or parts of it, at least. Tommy'd left him outside Micelli's, breathless and confused and aching, before he ever knew what it was like to hold his hand, to press his nose into the join of his neck and shoulder, to curl a hand in his hair or be filled by him - with attention, with affection, with the weight of his body and the stretch of his cock. Even then, this had felt different. Real, in a way the misty edges of his time with Abby, or the way Buck's puzzle pieces had never quite fit with Taylor's had never been. Even then, he'd just wanted so desperately to know and be known by Tommy that he'd taken his second chance and run with it.

"I don't snore," Tommy says, when the silence gets too heavy, and Buck - god, Buck has missed that tone, the snappy little tilt of his head, the blatant lie that passes over Tommy's lips so smoothly it's hard to tell sometimes that he's not being serious.

"I have audio proof," Buck says, and then doesn't immediately admit that he'd played it on a loop two nights into the breakup when he'd wrapped his entire body around the spare pillows on his bed and still hadn't been able to sleep alone in his bed.

"It bugs me that you spent days following scraps of information about a dead outlaw you convinced yourself cursed you, but you didn't even know what a Kinsey scale was."

This is - progress. This is... not Tommy bolting.

"I'm a two. If that's - is that, like, gay enough for you, or...?"

"You go too fast for me, Buckley," he says, and Buck knows that's a fucking reference to something he doesn't have context for just as well as he knows he's willing to spend the next decade waiting for the reference to pop up on Tommy's list. It's a terrifying, exhilarating thought and it's probably exactly what Tommy means.

"I can slow down," Buck says, and he tries to mean it. Nothing about how he feels about Tommy is slow.

"I don't want you to," Tommy admits, and then lets the silence stretch. They're two and a half feet away from each other and the distance feels like the farthest he's ever been from Tommy and the closest he may ever be again. "Living together, making a life together..." He swallows. "Marriage." That stops him short just long enough to recall how he'd blazed right past the I love you and straight into how he could keep Tommy. "You scare the shit out of me every goddamn minute of every goddamn day and I've never missed being terrified as much as I have since I walked out that door."

"I'm in love with you," Buck tells him, and Tommy blinks back tears. Takes a shaky breath and nods.

"That's what scares me. It's never - it's never been enough, before."

He'd sort of expected this to end with either the echo of his KitchenAid or a frantic rush up the stairs, but when Tommy meets him halfway all he does is sink his nose into the curls behind Buck's ear and breathe.

His arms drag Buck closer, his feet shuffle beneath them, his chin hooks over Buck's shoulder and he breathes, and breathes, and breathes.

---

"Your morning breath is rancid," Tommy tells him, palm centered on Buck's nose when he leans in for a kiss, pads of his fingers curled just slightly so that his hand is nearly encasing Buck's entire face. He wants to be annoyed but it's mind numbingly hot and Buck has missed it. Missed the snark, and the comfortable way Tommy will shoot him down when his head is in the clouds, and exactly how fucking large Tommy is.

"I'm so tired of avocado toast," Buck bats back, and Tommy is distracted enough by his need to make a face at that for Buck to swoop in and press a kiss to his cheek. He makes sure to make it a little wet just to watch Tommy's face crinkle in mock disgust.

He's in one of Buck's hoodies, is wearing the pair of his own sweats Buck had buried in the back of his closet in a fit of pique three days post breakup. He still looks properly debauched and Buck wants to drag him right back to bed.

Except -

"You don't have to go," Buck repeats, for the fifth time since he brought it up somewhere between peeling Tommy out of his suit pants and rolling out of bed to warm a hand towel under the sink so that Tommy could clean the cum off his abs. "But I need to shower and leave in like - twenty-seven minutes."

Tommy catches him by the waist and drags him in. "I won't be able to stay. You baked and I took as much holiday overtime as I could, but if you seriously want me there -."

"I seriously want you everywhere."

Tommy raises a brow.

"I mean that in a horny way and a codependent way."

Tommy snorts. "Good to know we're approaching this in a healthy manner."

"You told me not to slow down," Buck reminds him, and he gets a smack to his ass for his trouble.

"When Maddie pulls me aside, do you think she'll just slip me a poisoned glass of wine, or is she gonna get up on a step stool and make me stand there while she strangles me to death?"

"She won't do that." Buck leans in again, rolls a loose curl between two fingers. "She'll just stab you in the middle of the kitchen and warn my parents not to step in the blood."

"That's comforting."

Tommy takes a utilitarian shower in the downstairs bathroom and doesn't let Buck join him, and then rifles through Buck's closet until he finds all three of his button downs Buck had tucked away.

He has to borrow a pair of Buck's slacks and Buck absolutely does not mind that his ass is definitely gonna stretch them out.

With about seventy seconds to spare, Tommy presses Buck to his front door and kisses him just long enough to screw up Buck's meticulous timing - by the time he pulls back and gives Buck enough room to glance at the time on his stove, Buck knows they're gonna hit just enough red lights to make them late.

"I love you too, by the way," Tommy murmurs, and just this once, Buck decides not to be a brat about being five minutes late.

[drurrito]

Night Drive (18+)

Summary: You get a new car

AN: 18+ only y'all--we're gonna pretend that there are plenty of other self-driving cars that aren't t*sla...I hope this makes up for me not putting out another part of AYTO yet! All mistakes are mine.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: cursing; reader has a dick; dom//powerbottom!Natasha; sub//top!reader

----------------

You sink lower into your seat as you rev the engine of your new car with the widest grin Natasha can't see. Natasha looks hardly impressed from your view beyond the barely-legal tint of the windows.

You decide to roll down your window and plead your case.

"Hey baby."

Natasha rolls her eyes. You already screw yourself coming right out the gate with pleasantries, Natasha knows you're desperate to get on her good side when you do that.

"So...what do you think?" You vaguely gesture to the rest of the car and Natasha scoffs.

"I think you were a finance bro in your past life," she crosses her arms, and you relent, "probably," you sing as you round the car to lean against the hood. The gun metal gray still holds a shine in the moonlight. This wasn't an impulse purchase, you had been talking about buying a new car for a while now. You would go on little rants about the specs of certain cars whenever you saw them on the road or on TV. It's not like you were waiting when you had the money, being an avenger was a pretty-paying gig. You were just waiting for the right one, at the right time--a method you mastered by the time Natasha came around.

"Wanna go for a joyride?" You offer, already leaning off the hood and spinning the key in your hand.

Natasha wants to keep giving you a hard time, but you look so damn good in front of your sleek, expensive, new backdrop. Your muscles bulge under your fitted black shirt, and you have the cockiest smile on your face, like you knew you were winning this race.

"And if we get pulled over?"

"With SHIELD plates? I'm not worried about it," it almost comes out like it's scripted. You're not above rehearsing a speech for Natasha if it means getting your way. You're pulling out all the stops, but Natasha wants to remind you who's really behind the wheel. Her eyes rake over you slowly, intensely--the same way fresh lava travels over earth. You're standing at attention and you don't even know it.

"You gonna open the door for me or just stand there like you forgot your manners?" Natasha watches in amusement as you fumble for the door handle. She slides onto the cool leather while you make your way into the driver's seat yet again. You wait patiently for her to get comfortable and buckle in.

It's only when you rev the engine with a wink that Natasha muses this might have been a bad idea on her part. You punch the gas pedal and she's quickly acquainted with the back of the cherry red bucket seat.

----------------

Natasha decides that she doesn't like going fast unless the fate of the world depends on it. She also decides this is the one exception when she sees the freeway system of veins in your forearms as you grip the steering wheel. Natasha feels like she's flying when she watches your triceps flex while you turn the wheel or do something as mundane as turning on her seat heater.

Natasha slides her seatbelt off in a way that doesn't set off the sensor--she didn't want this moment to be ruined by a lecture on why it's important to buckle-up. You're too distracted by the beat of your night drive playlist to notice her crawling closer to you.

You feel her lips on the shell of your ear, "eyes on the road, got it?"

"Yes ma'am," you try to say cooly, you don't dare chance a look over at her. She hums with satisfaction and rewards you with a kiss on the skin behind your ear and a nibble on your lobe that tightens the coil in your belly.

Natasha sucks and licks at your neck while her deft fingers work to undo your belt and zipper. Her hand explores the border of your waistband before dipping under and finding what it was looking for. You let out a whisper of a gasp when Natasha admires your full length and girth. Your grip on the wheel tightens, Natasha chuckles when she hears the leather under your fingers groan.

Natasha begins to stroke you slowly, agonizingly so, but that doesn't keep your hips from bucking up into her hand.

"Tash," that only elicits a rumble against your neck. Natasha's other hand curls around your neck and gives a light squeeze that makes your vision blur for a second. Her stroking picks up speed, you have to work impossibly hard to keep your foot off the brakes.

"Natasha, please."

"I like the way you say please, baby," she mumbles with your skin between her teeth.

"What did I tell you?"

"Eyes on the road, ma'am," you say with a quickness that makes the corner of her lips curl up in satisfaction.

"So smart," she praises before you helplessly watch her head lower until you feel her lips greet your cock with a sloppy kiss. You throw your head back against your seat with a pathetic moan.

"So desperate," Natasha teases, and your mind feels like it's going a million miles an hour--multitasking is usually your strong suit, but it seems damn near impossible now.

Natasha's tongue travels the length of you, your hips feebly buck into her mouth when she finally grants you entrance. You slow your speed to safely take a hand off the wheel and hold her hair back. She thanks you with a gentle squeeze on your thigh and the prettiest sounds you could have only ever imagined.

Your playlist is already repeating itself by the time Natasha comes up for air. She can barely hear it over your panting anyway. You're rock hard and right where she wants you.

"The car can drive itself, you know," you breathe out. Natasha's brow quirks with curiosity.

"Show me," it's a gentle command, but your fingers rush to press the right sequence of buttons. You ease the seat back with haste, and Natasha just lets you sit there for a few beats to take you in and also leave you in suspense.

Your fingers dumbly flex against your legs while you wait for further instruction from Natasha. She doesn't even try to hide her smirk when your eyes begin to dart between the road and her.

"You're not gonna let us crash right, dove?" Natasha's finger traces a feather-light trail down your arm. It's a genuine question, even though she knows you probably did some sizable research on the safety features of the car before you even entertained buying it.

"No ma'am, you're precious cargo," you give an easy smile and that's Natasha's cue to move and straddle your lap. You help her with your hands on her hips, your hands quickly retreating to your sides when she's situated over you.

Natasha swears your eyes are sparkling as you watch her slide her panties to the side with one hand and take your length in the other.

"Eyes on me, baby, just for a second," she coos and you obey. Natasha can't help but admire the striations of your muscles working overtime to restrain yourself. You've always been intoxicatingly obedient, even when it's downright painful. Your eyes are locked on Natasha's, you have to bite your lip to stifle a moan when she finally eases down onto your cock. She's already working her hips in a way that has your entire body buzzing. You can count on one hand how many cars have passed you by this whole time, just like you expected.

Your fingers dig into the leather of your seat, your eyes periodically glancing at the road to make sure it hasn't veered off course for whatever reason. Natasha steals a few sloppy kisses when she leans into you to get a better angle and bounce on your cock at a speed that should be illegal.

"Tash, I'm gonna-," you choke out between labored breaths.

"What was that baby?" she leans back and oh god, you wish you had the kind of self-control your car has right now. You feel like you're going to pass out watching Natasha ride your cock, you're too blissed out to realize that she's spelling out 'm-i-n-e-' with her hips.

"I'm gonna come so fast."

"I know baby."

That seals your fate. Your arm reaches back to brace yourself against the seat. With a long and drawn-out "fuck," Natasha feels you push deeper into her, filling her up with every last drop of you. You both fall into a sweaty, moaning heap against the seat. Your body trembling with aftershocks as Natasha scratches at the skin on the back of your neck. You only get to drink this feeling in for a few seconds until you see red and blue flashing lights in your rearview mirror.

"Shit," you sit up and Natasha freezes when she sees what you see. You feverishly check your speedometer, you're not speeding. You start rifling through your brain to see if you forgot to do something, insurance? Plates? Registration?

Your questions are answered when you watch the cop car speed off into the night. Natasha lets out a heavy sigh of relief that makes your dick twitch, reminding you both that you're still inside of her.

"Told you," you try not to sound so exasperated. Natasha just rolls her eyes before kissing your temple. Night drives might just become a regular thing now.

[covenofagatha]

Two professors and a student (Part 4)

Word count: 3850

Warnings: sex, fingering, choking

A/N: this became so much longer than I thought it would lol but I'm planning on writing one or two more parts for this. Hope you all enjoy!

It becomes painfully clear to you when you’re looking through your closet the next morning that you own no good clothes. 

You have “going out” clothes, sure, but none that would be really appropriate for a dinner with your two hot ex-professors. 

Your two hot ex-professors that you had listened to have sex yesterday. Who knew you were on the phone. Who had purposely called you so you could hear. 

A blush heats up your cheeks at the memories. Rio’s moans. Agatha telling her all the things she pictured the three of you doing. Agatha telling you to cum, assuming (correctly) that you wouldn’t be able to resist touching yourself. 

And then your mind travels to how it felt to make out with Agatha. Her tongue in your mouth, hands under your shirt. 

Fuck. 

It is way too early to be this turned on. 

You could get off now and relieve the ache that is steadily growing inside you, or you could not do that, let it simmer, and see what happens tonight. 

Although the waiting will be torture, you decide to go shopping for a new dress instead. Rio had asked you to wear something pretty, so that’s what you’re going to do. 

Your first stop turns up nothing. Sure, there are a few dresses that look okay on you, but none that are going to make their jaws drop. And that’s what you want. 

They keep catching you off-guard, but now you want to turn the tables on them. Want to make them fight to keep their hands to themselves at dinner. 

You’ve moved on to the second store when your phone buzzes. You assume it’s a friend, or maybe even Rio, but it’s an unknown number. 

Good morning, sweetheart. Just want to check in and see how you’re doing after yesterday?

There’s only one person that calls you sweetheart. Your heartbeat picks up but you force yourself to remain calm and pick out a few dress options. Agatha had to have gotten your number from Rio. Were they talking about you again? Better yet, did they have sex while talking about you again?

You physically have to shake your head to clear your brain of these thoughts. 

In the fitting room, you don’t reply yet. The first dress is green silk, but there’s something that just looks weird about it. The next one is lavender, but it looks more like something you’d wear to a family dinner. 

But the last one. It’s black and almost mesh with a plunging neckline and an around-the-neck strap. It’s short, too, but just long enough to be able to be worn in public. 

You look hot in it. 

You watch a smirk spread across your face in the mirror as you get an idea. You grab your phone and text back: I’m doing great. Shopping for clothes for dinner tonight, actually. Can I get your opinion on this? 

You raise your phone to take a teasing selfie, not enough to where you can see the whole thing, but just a hint of your cleavage. You chew on your lip while you examine it and then determine it looks okay. 

You attach the photo to the text and send it. 

The reply comes almost instantaneously. 

Yes. Wear that. Please.  

You chuckle and do a little spin in the mirror one last time. Yeah, you nod at yourself. This is the one. 

You’re walking to the self-checkout when you suddenly have another thought. You don’t really have much lingerie, and the pairs that you do have are nothing special. 

So you head over to that section of the store. You’re shuffling through pairs of underwear, feeling vaguely awkward and hoping no one else sees you, when you find a pair that’s green and black. Rio’s favorite colors, you’ve come to know. And you have purple bracelets for Agatha. 

The dress is so low and is open in the back so you don’t even need a bra, so you take your dress and your pair of fancy underwear and go to pay for it. You try to avoid eye contact with the employee when she comes to take off the anti-theft prevention device and pretend to not notice her smirk at you. 

You’re really not sure how you’re going to kill the next eight hours or so, especially now that the semester is over and you don’t have any work. You try to go for a run when you get back to your dorm, but your mind just keeps turning to Agatha and Rio. Same thing happens when you try to scroll through tiktok an hour later. You can hear your roommate clambering around in the kitchen and you’re tempted to go and hang out with her, but instead you busy yourself with deep cleaning your room. 

That takes a bit at least and does help distract you, and then you make yourself something to eat for lunch. You turn on Loving Annabelle and half-heartedly watch it while you scroll through your phone. With every notification you get, you secretly hope it’s one of them. 

But it never is. 

Finally, finally, it’s time to start getting ready. You take a long shower and then blow dry and curl your hair until it’s light and fluffy. You get dressed, admiring yourself in the mirror one last time, and then you put on some light makeup. You take a few deep breaths to calm your nerves. 

The restaurant is about a five minute drive from you, but you’re not sure if you want to take your car. If there truly is a nightcap at their place, are you just going to follow them there? If you don’t drive, they’ll have to take you and then drop you back off. Automatically more time with them. 

Plus it’s only a fifteen minute walk from the dorm to Herb’s. You grab a bag and throw in some toiletries and some extra clothes and anything else you might need if you were to, say, spend the night. 

That’s where this is headed, right? You hope more than anything that it is. 

And just so you’re not walking around in a skimpy dress, you pull a hoodie over your head so no one can see it. You’ll take it off right before you get to the restaurant. 

“Ooh,” your roommate whistles when you walk out of your room. Even though you have the sweatshirt on, you still clearly have put effort into your appearance. “Hot date tonight?” 

Technically, you have two hot dates tonight, but you’re not going to even go there. You blush and lamely brush it off. “No, just meeting up with some friends.” 

“Yeah, sure,” she mocks with a laugh. 

“I’ll see you later,” you say, smiling tightly before leaving the dorm. 

The cold air stings your face when you exit the complex and you wrap your arms around yourself. While you look good in the dress, it is winter in New Jersey, so perhaps it wasn’t the best choice. 

It’s too late for that though. 

You practically run to the restaurant, getting there just a few minutes before six. The heat inside quickly warms you up and you stuff the sweatshirt into your bag. 

And then you see them. Agatha and Rio saunter up the steps to the restaurant, both of them clad in suits that hug their bodies just right. You think you might be drooling and you can already feel heat starting to grow inside you.

But when Agatha opens the door for Rio and they catch sight of you, it seems that you are also having a similar effect on them. Agatha’s mouth parts open, eyes running up and down your body, and Rio has desire written all over her face as she cocks an eyebrow at you. 

“Wow, sweetheart,” Agatha murmurs appreciatively into your ear once they’re next to you. The pet name in that tone makes your stomach clench. “You look really nice.”

“So do you two,” you breathe. 

The waitress leads the three of you to a secluded table in the back. Rio and Agatha sit across from you and Agatha orders a bottle of wine for the table without even looking at the menu. 

“Have a good rest of the day yesterday?” Rio asks innocently. 

You glare at her with playful anger. “You guys knew I was listening the whole time?” You know it’s true, but you just want them to say it. 

Agatha shrugs coyly. “We thought you would’ve figured it out sooner.” 

“I probably would’ve except my head was about to explode!” 

Rio chuckles darkly. “We thought you would enjoy it.” 

Your voice drops and you look at Agatha. “What kind of dream did you have the other night?” That was the one main thing you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since the call. 

The two of them glance at each other and Agatha turns back to you, Rio smirking. 

“I had a dream that Rio was eating you out while you were lying against me and I was teasing you,” she says casually and your mouth falls open involuntarily. The air is sucked out of your lungs and all you can do is gape at her. “And then I fucked you with my strap-on while Rio sat on your face.” 

You think you must have died and gone to heaven. Your hands are practically shaking and Rio snickers. 

“I went down on her after she woke up and made her tell me all about it. She came so hard from the thought of you,” Rio adds. 

You are dizzy with need and you have to forcibly flex your fingers so you don’t do something stupid, like touch yourself or grab either one of them from across the table and drag them in for a kiss. 

Your mouth flops open and shut like you’re a fish gasping for breath while your brain unsuccessfully tries to figure out what to say. Rio and Agatha are both clearly enjoying themselves. 

You finally think you’re able to force out a few words when the waitress comes back with the wine and to take your orders. Unfortunately, you haven’t even had a chance to figure out what you’re going to eat. 

“Ma’am, are you alright?” It takes a minute for you to realize that she’s talking to you since you got distracted by Rio pointing at something on the menu and couldn’t help but think how that finger would feel inside you. 

“Oh, she’s fine,” Agatha says with a dismissive wave. “She’ll have the pasta carbonara with pancetta.” You nod at whatever that is and force a smile and the waitress seems satisfied enough. 

“You okay, doll?” Rio asks, and it’s the first time she’s ever used a pet name with you. “You did ask for it.”

“Yeah,” you say with a thick swallow. “I just didn’t realize it would be like that. I didn’t know you guys even liked me like that. Have you ever, you know, with another person?” You don’t really know how to ask if they’ve ever had a threesome. You certainly have not. 

“Once or twice. But they were quick things, just one night after meeting in a bar or something,” Agatha answers. You’re still not quite satisfied. 

“But what about this?” 

“What do you want it to be?” Rio asks quickly before Agatha can say anything. 

You mull it over while you take a long sip of your wine. What is this? Obviously, there’s attraction there. But could you be in a relationship with them? Would you just be their plaything from time to time when they get bored? 

“I don’t know,” you admit honestly. “I really like you both. But you’re already in a relationship so I don’t really know where I would fit into it. I do want this though. Whatever this is and whatever it becomes.” 

Agatha gives you a soft smile. “We’re good with that, hon. So you’d be interested in coming back to ours after?” 

“Yes, god, yes.” But then another thought crosses your mind. “Wait, is this even allowed? Since you were my professors and everything? I don’t want anyone to get in trouble.” 

Rio tilts her head from side to side like she’s trying to consider it. “Well, technically we’re not your professors anymore. But we would still probably have to keep it under wraps for a little bit.” 

“Is that okay?” Agatha asks. 

A rush of excitement runs through you at the thought of having to keep it a secret. It almost makes it hotter. “Yeah, I’m okay with that.” 

“Good,” Agatha says. The waitress comes back with three steaming plates. You think this might be the fastest you’ve ever gotten your food at a restaurant before. “Now eat up. You’re going to need the energy.” She winks at you and you almost drop your fork. 

You practically shovel the pasta into your mouth, suddenly so desperate for them. To no one’s surprise, they have a bit more composure than you do, politely cutting their food and eating it at a normal speed. You’re finished before they’re even halfway done. 

“Someone’s eager,” Rio comments, an eyebrow raised. You blush and squirm in your seat, positively aching. You find yourself transfixed by the way Agatha’s fingers nimbly twirl pasta around her fork, the way her mouth opens so delicately for it. You want to feel her lips on you again. 

And then they’re finally finished. The waitress comes back and your entire body is almost vibrating. The check will be paid and then you’ll be on your way back to their house. 

“Can I get you guys anything else?” The waitress asks. 

“Could we actually get dessert? Maybe a crème brûlée to split?” Rio asks and you almost make a noise of disappointment out loud. Agatha chuckles at your reaction. The waitress gives you another weird look and leaves. 

“But-” you begin to protest. 

“Patience, doll,” Rio cuts you off. “Good things come to those who wait. And if you don’t behave, we might just have to punish you later.” 

You blush furiously at the thought. “I wouldn’t hate that,” you mutter under your breath, but from the amused looks on their faces, you’re sure they heard every word. 

“I thought you liked being a good girl for us?” Agatha simpers. 

“I thought so, too,” Rio muses. “But maybe you want to be a brat instead?” 

You gasp a little. 

“You need someone to put you in your place?”Agatha asks. 

You nod slowly at first but then shake your head. “No, I can be good tonight. I promise.”

“Good girl,” Rio says in a low voice that makes you want to throw all caution to the wind and just have them fuck you on the table right here, right now. You take another long sip of wine to distract yourself. 

The waitress comes back with the crème brûlée and sets it down with three spoons. You don’t grab yours, instead choosing to watch the professors reach for theirs. Agatha cracks through the sugar layer and lifts up the spoon to her mouth for a taste. She moans like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted and you have to squeeze your thighs together at the sound. You’ve heard Rio’s moans, but hearing Agatha’s – even in this context – almost puts you over the edge. 

“Don’t you want some?” Rio asks, nodding at the dish. Flustered enough as it is, you take the last spoon and scoop up some. You’re bringing it to your mouth when Agatha licks her spoon clean, eyes locked with yours. Your hand jerks reflexively and the custard falls off the spoon and onto your chest, which is basically bare because of your low neckline. 

You wince at the feeling and without even thinking, you collect it with your fingertip and suck it into your mouth. You moan involuntarily at the taste, eyes closing, and when you open them, you find both women staring at you with their pupils blown out. 

“What?” You ask, wiping at your face. 

Agatha motions for the waitress to come over and whips out her credit card to hand to her. “Check, please,” she demands. Your heartbeat picks up. 

Rio impatiently taps her fingers on the table while you wait in silence. It takes what seems like forever for her to come back with Agatha’s card and the bill. Agatha leaves a hefty tip and they practically usher you out the door. 

“Did you drive here?” Rio asks, hand coming up to grasp your bicep. 

“No, I walked,” you say and she smirks coyly, like she knew your exact thought process behind that. 

Agatha’s car isn’t very far and you slide into the backseat before you can get too cold. The drive is pretty quiet, all of you too wrapped up in what’s about to come to talk. 

It’s less than ten minutes before you pull into the driveway of a quaint two-story home in a cute suburban neighborhood. You’re not sure where you pictured them living, but it suits them. 

“More wine?” Agatha asks once you’ve all entered the house. 

“Sure,” you answer absentmindedly as you walk through the front corridor to the living room, trailing a hand on the wall, just drinking their space in. You can see influences from both of them in the color and the decorations. 

It’s perfect. 

“You know,” Rio says from behind you and you turn to face her. She’s leaning against the wall, openly checking you out. “You got to kiss Agatha yesterday, so I think it’s only fair that I get a turn now. Right, doll?” 

You nod eagerly and step closer to her. She gets tired of waiting and clasps your cheeks with her hands and pulls you to her. Unlike your kiss with Agatha, which started out at least somewhat soft, Rio dominates this kiss. She sucks on your tongue, on your bottom lip, just taking complete control. Her hand comes up to hold onto your throat and squeezes roughly. You moan into her mouth. 

“I leave you two alone for five seconds,” Agatha says, entering the living room with three glasses and a bottle of wine. You break apart to look at her, but Rio clearly doesn’t care as she sinks her teeth into your neck. You groan instinctively. “Y/n, come here,” Agatha orders, dropping onto the couch and patting her thighs. 

You look back at Rio, who has an evil glint in her eye. She nods in permission and you walk over to sit on Agatha’s lap. She crashes your lips together. Like Rio, you can still taste the dessert on her tongue. 

Her fingers play with the hem of your dress, slowly hiking it up your legs. She strokes her fingertips up and down your thighs while she kisses you, stealing all the breath from your lungs. You feel Rio come up behind you, leaning over so she can nibble on your earlobe and suck on your neck. Agatha finally cups you through your underwear and your hips jump. 

She chuckles into your mouth and you whimper when she slides them to the side and runs her fingers up your slit. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet, baby girl,” she says, gathering your wetness with her fingers. 

“I bet she is,” Rio mumbles, tongue licking a hot stripe on your skin. 

“Taste her,” Agatha says, bringing up her hand to Rio’s mouth. It’s like you’re not even there when Rio envelopes Agatha’s fingers and bobs her head around them but it turns you on even more. 

“Fuck, doll, can’t wait for my turn,” Rio says and lifts the strap from your dress over your head to she has access to your breasts. She gingerly teases your nipples slowly at first and your head drops back against her from the stimulation. You’re so caught up in Rio that you don’t even notice Agatha’s hand sliding back down to your cunt until she slides a finger inside you. 

“Jesus, fuck,” you swear, hand coming to grab onto her shoulder as she begins to move. Rio chuckles, the vibrations echoing against your skin as she goes back to sucking on it, both hands tugging and squeezing your nipples which are now hard enough to cut diamonds. Agatha’s thumb rubs your clit and you moan again. The older woman pulls you in for another bruising kiss and you clench around her fingers. 

“Do you want more?” Agatha asks when you finally break apart. 

“Of course she does,” Rio scoffs. “She’s dripping all over you like a slut.” Her degrading words only turn you on more and you plead for more with your eyes. Rio stops what she’s doing and grabs your jaw. “Beg,” she whispers in your ear. 

“Please, Agatha, need more, need you so bad,” you babble immediately. It’s good enough for both of them, it seems, and Agatha thrusts two fingers in you. Rio turns your head so she’s able to kiss you and you can feel one of her hands leave your nipple, skim down your stomach, and slap Agatha’s thumb out of the way so she can rub at your clit. She’s rougher than Agatha was but you don’t mind. You already are so close. 

Rio’s other hand comes to grab at your throat again and Agatha begins trailing kisses down your bare chest. She sucks a nipple into her mouth and your back arches at the feeling. 

“Fuck, please,” you say, pulling away from Rio’s mouth, not quite sure what you’re asking for. Someone laughs – you’re not even sure who at this point – and your pleasure increases tenfold. Agatha curls her fingers with every thrust just right, Rio is playing with your clit just right, and their hot mouths on you are definitely just right. “I’m so close.” You’re basically riding Agatha’s fingers right now, hips moving up and down just chasing the high you so desperately need. 

Strangely enough, it’s not the extra stimulation that puts you over the edge. 

Agatha, with her free hand, yanks Rio’s head right next to yours and kisses her hotly. It’s like she’s trying to devour her girlfriend. 

And that’s what does it. You cum with a loud moan, all over Agatha and Rio’s fingers. You can see them both smiling while they’re making out and they just keep fucking you through your orgasm like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

When you finally calm down, you slump against Agatha, panting for air. Someone’s hand comes up to play with your hair and Agatha pulls her fingers out of you and puts them in her mouth. Another flash of heat bursts through you when she moans. 

“You okay, doll?” Rio asks, stroking your sweaty hair from your face. You nod with a laugh. 

“Yeah,” you say, still breathless. Agatha pats your thighs and you stand up on shaky legs. “Wow.” 

Agatha gets up as well, grabs your hand, and pulls you to the stairs with Rio trailing quickly behind. “Oh, baby girl, we’re just getting started.” 

[gothicgaycowboy]

𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 3.1k

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: you make Aemond’s longtime librarian fantasy come to life.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 18+ no minors, fem dom, sub aemond, a cock ring, oral sex (m receiving), deep throating, role play (kinda), unprotected sex, creampie, no use of y/n, edging (m receiving), both reader and aemond are little losers, established relationship, pet names, embarrassing family dinner conversations, a cameo from aemond’s lesbian moms and aegon.

𝙖/𝙣: this was originally going to be the beginning of my kinktober but I didn’t even get a chance to write out any of my other ideas in time. also big thank you to this anon who inspired this fic. hope you enjoy 💋

Up until now you thought you and your boyfriend had no secrets between you, but as it turns out you were wrong.

It started a week ago, you and Aemond drove up the countryside for a weekend to visit his family for Alicent’s birthday. Everyone tried their best to make it up there for big celebrations.

After three years together you feel like a member of the family yourself, Alicent and Rhaenyra even refer to you as their second daughter. You feel more at home with them than you do with your own family — and more importantly you felt like they couldn’t shock you anymore. That lasted until dinner.

Aegon and Aemond had gotten into a tiff about something juvenile that you can’t even remember anymore. Words tossed back and forth at one another from across the table like a tennis match. Rhaenyra was about to interject when Aegon blurted out: “Did you ever tell your sweetheart about what you did with my rag mag?”

Now that caught your attention.

Aemond’s face became beet red. His eyes practically bulged out of his skull in fear. Aegon smiled cockily at his brother’s expression, poking a forkful of their mothers dinner into his mouth.

Alicent and Rhaenyra tried to object to this conversation as soon as the word ‘rag mag’ was tossed out, but were cut short by your boyfriend.

“You wouldn’t.” It was clear Aemond was attempting to sound intimidating when it was obvious to everyone else he was fearing for his life.

“Oh, but I really would.” You vaguely remember overhearing Rhaenyra warn Alicent to cover her ears. Aegon turned his full attention to you, his eyes locked with yours. “When your precious boyfriend was still shorter than me he snuck into my room, snooped through my collection, and ripped out the naughty librarian spread all for himself.”

For the first time since you had met him Aemond became shy. You didn’t quite understand why exactly. Your boyfriend was no saint when it came to sex. He was the one who suggested most of your perverted ventures thus far, so why had he never told you this story himself?

After the table was cleared and conversation changed Aemond popped outside to take a quick smoke break — the perfect opportunity for you to interrogate Aegon a little more. You slid beside him as he washed that night's dishes like the good little son he can be occasionally.

“What was all that about?”

He glanced up at you briefly from the task in front of him. “What was all what about?”

“You know…” you suddenly realised how humiliating it was to talk about sex related topics with your boyfriend's brother. “The magazine drama?”

A knowing smirk crossed the​ Targaryen’s lips. “Ah, you want to know why Aemond threw such a fit about his little secret being outed.” He placed a white salad bowl onto the drying rack before facing you. “Well there are a few theories I have about it — first and most simple of all: maybe he was just embarrassed to have his middle school perversions exposed to our parents. I’m not too convinced by that one though given the simple fact that you two have been fucking at practically every family event you have been invited to thus far.”

It was then your turn for your cheeks to heat up with embarrassment, the memory of being caught half naked by Rhaenyra in the shoe closet still haunts you.

“So that leads me to my second theory: he’s ashamed of you knowing about his librarian fetish.”

Your brows pinched together quizzically. “But that doesn’t make any sense, we’ve done way crazier things together than a little kinky roleplay.”

Aegon closed his eyes and let out a long exhale like he was about to be sick. “I can’t express to you how much I didn’t want to know that.” You smiled at him apologetically letting out a timid ‘sorry’.

The purple eyed boy rubbed at his temples before opening his eyes again. “Okay, I’m probably gonna throw up later and really regret asking you this but: have you ever been in charge? Ya know, taken on the reins while you two are…” He held his hand over his stomach dramatically. “Having sex?”

your gaze remained on the clean kitchen floor as you answered his question. “No…”

“Well there you go, now if you’ll excuse me I need to go drink this conversation from my memory.”

Since that night you have been on a mission: make Aemond’s fantasy come to life.

It started like all good missions did — with a bit of thorough research of course. Aemond is a stickler for details and you needed all of them if you were going to pull this off successfully. The magazine from all the detail you managed to pull out of poor Aegon was a Hustler and based on the years Aemond would have been in middle school you managed to comb through every edition of Hustler during that time until you found it: the librarian spread.

This took you to the next step in your plan: the outfit. There wasn’t really much to it, obviously most of it was pulled off the models body in favour of showing off what was underneath, but you focused on what remained. Petite framed glasses, a white button up (tossed aside on the desk she sat on but you figured she was probably wearing it at some point in time), black pencil skirt, stockings, garter belt, and most importantly no panties.

All of this planning and waiting had finally led up to today. You have a day off to get your shit in order and Aemond’s shift ends early. You are quite proud of yourself honestly. Who knew being a research nerd could come in handy in the bedroom?

Now it was just time to see if Aemond appreciates it as much as you do.

From your spot in the kitchen you hear your boyfriend's keys enter the lock to your apartment – your cue to bolt into the bedroom. Inside the bedroom your heart races, nerves suddenly getting the best of you. What if he didn’t like it? What if he thinks you’re trying to belittle him? What if he thinks you look stupid?

“Baby?” Aemond calls from inside the main hallway.

“In the bedroom!” Well there was no going back now. Fuck it. You press play on the playlist you curated and pose yourself sitting on top of Aemond’s desk, just like the picture.

The door creaks open, revealing the white haired man to you. For a second he doesn’t look up, good eye still locked onto his phone. “What’s with the mu–” His eye meets with yours and stops him in his tracks. The bag he is carrying falls off his shoulder. The way he blushed at the birthday dinner has nothing on the state of his face now.

A few long moments pass by and the two of you remain perfectly still. It makes the knot in your stomach worse. “Please say something.” You beg as Aemond remains gobsmacked.

“You– how did – wh – you look–” He babbles like a small child.

“Please make it intelligible.” you try to lighten the mood as your hands play with each other anxiously.

It seems to shake Aemond out of his idiotict trance. “You look like the librarian from my magazine.”

“I do.” You change your tone to sound calm and collected while feeling like you’re about to explode inside.

“Why?”

“I thought you might appreciate it if I initiated something for once.”

Aemond soaks in the vision before him giving you a swift up and down glance. The pit continues growing in you but you refuse to let it show. “Do you?” You ask, impersonating all those sexually confident people you’ve seen in movies.

“I do.” Thank fuck.

Aemond rips the jacket from off his shoulders, practically running across the bedroom to reach you. He pulls you up off the desk but before he has the chance to kiss you you put a stop to him. Both hands push his face away but remain holding it so he’s forced to look at you. “Not so fast there mister.”

His face is priceless, a perfect mixture of confusion and desperation. “From now on I’m in charge, alright? You are going to lay there like the good boy I know you can be, while the sweet little librarian takes good care of you, understand?”

“Yes, I understand.” His pupil dilates so wide you can hardly see the usual violet colour of his iris.

“Yes you understand who?”

A surprise smirk graces your boyfriend's beautiful face. “Yes, I understand…ma’am.”

“Good, now take off your clothes and get on the bed.” In a flash Aemond’s clothes came flying off you like you have never seen before. You knew this would get him worked up but you did not expect him to be this into it.

As the Targaryen’s boxers hit the floor and he hits the plush mattress you pull open a bag holding your secret weapon for the night. With the ‘weapon’ hiding behind your back you move up the bed straddling his muscular thigh, sitting your bare cunt directly on his skin. His already hard cock twitches with excitement. “Fuck me, are you not wearing any–?”

“No.” you say plainly, like you did this everyday. “Now I’ve got a little something special for you before I completely blow your mind.”

“I really don’t see this getting better than it is but if you say so,” He shrugs his shoulders. “I trust you.”

From behind you you reveal it: a black rubber cock ring. “I wanna see you squirm.”

Aemond’s silver-blonde locks splay out onto the pillows as he plops his head back onto the pillows. “You are trying to kill me, woman.” He groans.

“Oh you love it.” With that you wrap your manicured hand around his cock, stretching the black rubber around the base.Your boyfriend jumps slightly at the contact. “How’s it feel?”

“Wonderful, now can we get on with the main event, please?”

“Don’t forget baby, you’re not the one calling the shots tonight. Be nice to me and I’ll be nice to you.”

“Always.” He smiles. You can’t help yourself against his charms, flopping onto him to plant a sweet kiss to his lips. He wastes no time reciprocating it, taking the kiss from zero to a hundred faster than you can snap your fingers. His tongue slithering its way into your mouth. Your moans vibrated against his lips. Aemond was definitely the best kisser out of all the guys you had been with.

You reach your right hand up pushing it between the two of you, separating your lips. Aemond is clearly about to protest as you cut him off. “Spit.” No bullshit, just straight to the point. Based on the focused expression on his face the dots are taking their sweet time to connect in his pretty little head. Then it clicks and Aemond looks like a kid in a candy shop. He leans over your palm, saliva dripping down into your hand.

As the spit sinks across your palm you reach down to rub the wetness around his throbbing cock, stroking him up and down painfully slowly. Your other hand makes its way to his heavy balls, massaging them delicately in between your fingers.

You always loved playing with Aemond’s cock, but you were never allowed to take your time with it. It’s the one thing you despise about your boyfriend constantly being the one in charge. This was your time to truly tease him like he had been teasing you since you got together.

“Are you gonna be a good boy for me?” You eye him over the glasses perched on your nose.

“Fuck yes!” Aemond yelps with pure euphoria.

“You kiss your mothers with that mouth?” You continue your teasing, the sound of the shucking filling the bedroom.

“No but I really wanna kiss you again — ma’am.” You appreciate that even though he was struggling through it he still uses your proper title.

“Come here baby.” Like a man starved Aemond pushes himself up to meet your lips once more. Now was your chance. With Aemond distracted by the kiss you slowly pull away your hand from his sack to grab the remote for the cock ring off the dresser. Time to hope he enjoys this little extra surprise.

Bzzz…

Aemonds hips slam up into your fist in shock. “Jesus- fuck!”

“Now you know how I feel, huh?” You say recalling all the times that the blonde had used your vibrators on you.

The vibrations make his rod jump, shaking so fast your eyes can’t even comprehend its moving at all. God it’s hot. It had become far too normal for Aemond to watch you shake and your eyes roll back into your head with ecstasy but never you with him. It makes you feel powerful.

“F-feels so fucking good—” Aemond struggles to be coherent through the throws of pleasure.

Your hands pick up the pace, tightening your grip around him. His eyes are becoming more and more glassy as the moments pass by. Settling down till your stomach touches your knees, skirt (barely) coved ass poking out to the air. You kiss your way down his chest, leaving lipstick marks as you go until you reach the base of his vibrating cock.

Your mind swarms with ideas of how you can possibly torture him, but you decide against anymore prolonged suffering because of how desperately you need him in your mouth. You lick your way up to his leaking tip, keeping eye contact the entire time.

You run your hands over the sides of his hips as you suck the tip into your mouth. Preparing yourself with a deep breath through your nose, you dive down, deepthroating the rest of him into your throat. The tip of your nose touched the smooth base of his pubic bone. He always filled your holes so perfectly.

The sounds of your throat bobbing over him mixed with muted vibrations and Aemond’s moans make your cunt pulsate. You and Aemond are not new to dirty but something about this type of dirty got you going in a way you have never felt before.

“I’m gonna come—fuck! I’m gonna come down your perfect throat—” That is all you need to hear to pull yourself away from him (as much as you hate to).

Wiping the saliva from the corners of your mouth you press the button on the remote of the cock ring, turning the vibrations off. Aemond whines like a scorned child. A sound you're not familiar with from him, but you could picture yourself getting used to.

“Did you really think that I was going to let you come that fast? I need to make you earn it first, baby.”

He looks up at you, begging. “How? Please just tell me how I’ll do anything, I just need to be inside you. I wanna be your good boy.” His voice cracks like he’s on the brink of tears.

“You have to address me properly.”

“Anything for you ma’am.”

“Now, beg.” You tug the base of his cock into your hands, jerking him off like you were in no rush.

“Please…?” His brows knit together like a kicked puppy.

You halt your movements and grip your boyfriend’s length, not enough to actually hurt him, just enough to make Aemond whine once more. “God do you even want me to fuck you? I said beg.” You say while pulling the almost sheer white top from your body, leaving the skirt and stockings in their place though.

“Please fuck ma’am? I promise I’ll be good for you, I need to be inside of you so bad. I love your cunt so much, I need it around me. I need to feel you come on me, please?”

“Aw, look at that, you are my good boy after all.” With that you are fully on top of him. Hands planted onto his firm chest while you lean forward to tug your skirt up, revealing the lack of underwear beneath them. With his eyes thoroughly distracted by your bare cunt you pull his aching tip inside of your soaking wet entrance.

You had sex not two days before now but somehow the stretch of Aemond inside was still a shock to your system. Maybe it’s because you had never had him like this, crying below you like just being inside you was already the greatest pleasure he could experience.

“Jesus—Christ!”

You take your time adjusting to him, gradually sinking lower towards his abdomen. Your clit grazes the black silicone, alerting you that you’ve reached the bottom. Pushing yourself all the way back up to his tip you slam down as you speak. “Did all that begging make your cock harder, Aem? Do you like begging for me?”

“So much…” The words are almost inaudible through his moans.

“You don’t come until I let you, understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

It only eggs you on more. The sound of wet skin smacking and whimpering fill your ears. No thoughts pass through either of your heads.

The rocking of your hips became more frantic, desperate. Your soft wet walls hugging your boyfriend like a vice. Aemond’s reach up into the pillows, gripping so hard they change from pink to white instantly.

Your mask begins to fall at the pleasure building in your core. Legs shaking at either side of Aemond’s hips. Just like that you pull the blonde up from his horizontal position, his grip falling from the pillows. Lips crashing together in a blur as sweat pools down both your backs. “I’m so fucking close, can I come, please?” His begging is muffled against your mouth.

“Soon, I promise. Rub my clit for me baby?” He obeyed immediately. His pointer and index finger caressing against your pulsing clit. “Fuck yes! so good Aem.” Your hands wander to his hair, like you are the master and he’s your little puppet.

You can’t hold back anymore, the sensation of his lips against yours mixed with Aemond’s precise movements against your bud send you hurdling towards your orgasm. “M’coming, come for me aem, do it for me baby—” Aemond follows fast behind you, crying out your name as he reaches his peak. His cock painting your insides with his cum.

You come back down to earth together, a jumble of words spilling from both of your lips: I love you, thank you, so good, kiss me.

You collapse into a puddle on your boyfriend’s sweat soaked chest. His fingers travel through your hair as you both catch your breath. As he tucks the lock behind your ears he finally speaks coherently. “So, are you gonna tell me how you managed to replicate the exact outfit from the original photo I used to wank off to or…?”

You smile, lifting your head to face him and his pink flushed cheeks. “A great magician never reveals their secrets.”

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two

Fish guy is actually pretty much the same height as Steve when they’re sitting next to each other on the edge of the pool. Steve finally gave in, the heat of the day getting too much, and is trailing his feet in the water – fish guy doesn’t seem to care, but Steve still made sure to shower before he came out here. Next to Steve’s feet, the flat point of fish guys tail is also swirling in the water.

Fish guy loves pears. Steve’s sure they’re his new absolute favorite thing, and Steve’s watched him demolish six, cores and stalks and all, one right after the other.

He’s licking sticky juice from his fingers. Steve can’t see his eyes behind the shades; but he’s certain fish guy is watching him. Probably waiting to see if Steve will produce more food; fish guy has developed a hearty appetite, and he hasn’t put on much weight yet, but he’s not exactly what Steve would call emaciated either. A little over a week of regular food is obviously helping.

“Okay,” Steve sips on his beer, the points to himself, “Steve.”

“Steeee,” fish guy readily replies, nodding. Steve has no idea how or when he picked up the nodding and head shaking, but he uses both correctly, as far as Steve can tell, so Steve doesn’t argue.

Steve points at fish guy. Nothing, then a curious head tilt.

Steve’s starting to come to the conclusion that maybe fish guy just doesn’t have a name. Which, okay, Steve can kind of see that. He vaguely wonders if fish guy has any family; if he’d even want to go back to the Upside Down.

“Right. Should probably name you something vaguely fish related, no? Should we stay on brand?” Fish guy cocks his head the other way, like a bird. They’ve been sat here long enough that the sun has started to dry the ropey mess of hair that fish guy has; it gone kind of curly now, pinging up as it dries.

Steve really wants to comb it out, but he has no idea how fish guy will react; they’ve only just made it to sitting next to each other. Steve’s vaguely aware that combing someone else's hair is a bit...familiar, but he figures fish guy is kind of in his care or whatever.

Maybe they could build up to it.

“Fish,” Steve muses vaguely to himself, “fishing? Scales? Tails? Fishing, fisher? Fisher, Eddie, Eddie Fisher, that singer guy Mom really likes. What do you think, how does Eddie sound? Good as anything, right?”

Steve has no idea what’s going on behind the sunglasses, but fish guys head keeps cocking curiously to the side. Steve points to himself, “Steve.”

Fish guy, replies, “Steeee,” as expected, nodding.

Steve points to fish guy, and says, “Eddie.”

Fish guy points to himself cautiously, and quietly volunteers, “Edidie?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, nodding, “near enough, man. Eddie. Sounds good.”

“Good,” Eddie replies, startling Steve a bit because it’s clear as a bell.

“That’s right, good. Eddie.”

Eddie, very slowly so Steve can clearly see what he’s doing, reaches for Steve’s beer bottle. Steve’s instinct is to take it away, what if it’s poisonous or something? But then he figures Eddie’s been pretty clear about rejecting stuff so far if he doesn’t want it; plus he lived in the Upside Down for, presumably, years. If he can survive in a toxic environment like that, then surely a sip of beer won’t hurt him.

Eddie’s funny as he lifts it, sniffing cautiously before he works out the mechanics of fitting his lips around the neck of the bottle. He drinks. Seems to ponder it for a moment, and then drinks again, giving the bottle a mournful little shake when he realizes it’s empty. There wasn’t much left anyway; Steve figures he’ll be okay.

“Good,” Eddie says as he hands the bottle back, “inied.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “finished.”

“Why do you think he doesn’t have any gills?”

“You are definitely asking the wrong person here Robs,” Steve scatters another handful of peas into the water, watching as Eddie bobs along, collecting them one at a time and popping them into his mouth, “ask Dustin. He’ll produce a book. There’s literally always a book.”

“I don’t want to ask Dustin, he’ll actually try and explain it to me...I’d rather speculate emptily.”

“You do love a bit of empty speculation.”

Robin nods in agreement, “so, no gills, what do you think?”

“I think…” Steve ponders for a few seconds, filling up the dog bowl with the rest of the peas and floating that on the water, “that he can’t actually breathe underwater. He can just hold his breath for a fucking long time.”

“Nah. Boring. Plausible. Logical. Could be correct. I need something wild Steven.”

Steve thinks, but he doesn’t have much of an imagination, not like the kids or Robin. Clever people have good imaginations; Steve’s not one of them. But he does remember hearing something about bugs one time, “he breathes through his skin.”

“Fucking rad.”

“You have been spending way too much time with Argyle.”

“He has the good stuff Steve, supply and demand,” she says shrugging, and then, “why, you jealous?”

Steve huffs, rolling his eyes. Because no, of course he isn’t. Much. Maybe a tiny bit. But that’s okay, Robin should have other friends and stuff he guesses. She pokes him in the ribs and he flaps at her.

It just encourages her, obviously, so he tries to ignore her which just makes her ten times worse. She pokes more, and she just knows him too well, goes for his ticklish ribs and before Steve knows what’s happening he’s on his side, trying to curl up to get away, begging for mercy and shrieking with laughter, Robin hollering “admit your jealousy Steven. Say uncle! Say iiiiiiiiiit!!”

Robin disappears suddenly with a splash and yelp. She scrambles on the grass, trying to right herself from where she was shoved, Eddie suddenly flopped half on top of Steve, his tail twisting around Steve’s middle. Robin scrambles back a few more paces, Eddie’s arms locked at the elbow to hold his torso up off the ground as far as he can, claws raking into the grass.

He’s completely silent, and Steve, shocked, just sits for a moment, looking at the back of Eddie’s soaking head. The water’s dripping from his hair in rivulets down his pale back, his shoulder blades standing out sharply, the knobs of his spine visible where his back is held in a sharp arch.

He’s puffed up like an angry cat, Steve thinks absently.

He makes eye contact with Robin over Eddie’s shoulder, and she raises her eyebrows just a teeny tiny bit, ‘what the fuck?’

Steve shrugs, ‘I don’t know.’ Then tilts his head to the house a little, ‘give us a minute.’

Robin frowns spectacularly, ‘I’m not leaving you alone with the crazy fish guy’ or words to that effect, Steve guesses.

He nods toward the house again, trying to give his best, ‘I’ll be fine,’ vibes.

She looks hugely doubtful, but does move away, all slow and careful. Eddie hand walks to keep himself between between Steve and Robin, his tail clenching around Steve as he does.

“Eddie,” Steve’s hand hovers in the air for a few seconds before he bites the bullet and lets his hand rest on Eddie’s tail. It’s surprisingly smooth. Not soft exactly, but not hard. Doesn’t even feel scaly really, just smooth and warm it doesn’t look scaly either, now that Steve can have a close up look. It’s just...black. Matt black.

Actually now that he’s here, there are some funny little slits toward the tippy bit, they kind of look like they could be openings, but he doesn’t have time to investigate because Robin’s gone, so Eddie turns to him.

Steve has no clue what to say as Eddie’s tail slowly unwraps from his middle, “Eddie,” he starts, as Eddie slips back into the water.

“Steee.”

Steve just sighs, retrieving what are now Eddie’s sunglasses from where they’ve fallen by the edge of the lawn, “what am I going to do with you?”

Eddie tips his head, listening, but Steve doesn’t have anything else to say. At a loss, he heads inside to make sure Robin is okay.

A/N I know the time line doesn't work with Argyle since this happened after starcourt but lets just all agree to ignore that. There is no tag list for this work.

Part Four

[goldsbitch]

Open your eyes

Everyone is self-conscious about their body sometimes. For Y/N's it's always been her small boobs, living in the belief that this would make her unattractive. Can her best friend help out?

warning: light smut, nipple play, blindfold

this one is for the flat chested girlies out there

If only teenagers knew how all of their peers are just as insecure as they are. Might have saved a lot of trouble, sleepless nights and maybe even stop everyone from overthinking and living more of a "just finally kiss me" life.

//

It was a sunny summer afternoon, as per usual, these two late teens, would spend it in a room with all windows covered up, eyes glued to the screen and hands gripping gaming consoles. They grew up as close friends, in fact he was the only one she ever potentially felt comfortable enough to admit her insecurities.

"Still don't get it why you said no," he noted, once again, to the situation where one of his racing friends asked for her number and she declined without providing a reason.

She ignored him the first time he'd address it, hoping he'd just let it go. It was frustrating how much invested he was in that. With a big sigh, she replied the same as she did before. "We are just not the right fit."

Lando, a teenage guy with a massive crush he had yet to decipher, was not satisfied with that answer.

"Don't get it," he said nonchalantly as he blew her head off in the game they were playing.

"Fine!" she responded and nearly threw away her console. She locked eyes with him, still not sure if she wanted to share her deepest insecurity.

He knew her, in the light reflected from her screen he could see on her face that the mood in the room has changed drastically. No more casual fun and games.

"Spill it," he dared, perhaps realizing for the first time why he craved her presence so much. "Was this it?"

She took a deep breath, trying to somehow ignore Lando's intense stare. She would always closed her eyes when something "scary" was in front of her. With her eyes shut, she finally spoke. "It's, um...You know," she said, vaguely pointing around her chest. Poor Lando was so caught of guard he forgot to breathe for a moment. "What?" he said, confused as ever.

Another annoyed sigh. "Don't make me say it, Norris."

"Well, you're really bad at pantomima thing, so I'm afraid you'll have to," he said, keen on not letting this go, his mind trying to ignore his inner disappointment.

"Fine. But promise we will never address this again."

"Promise."

"He just, he seems like the kind of guy who would want a more developed girl..?" she said, still not sure how to communicate it.

"As in all the braincells? I see your point now," he couldn't help himself from teasing her. Ever.

"Dickhead. My boobs," he almost bursted, once again gesturing to her chest. "They are so small. Why would someone like him find that attractive?"

Now, he was truly taken of guard, no idea how to respond, because he could hardly understand. It made the wheels in his head spin. Only at that moment realizing he'd do anything to see her small boobs one day. Y/N mistook his surprised silence as a confirmation of her own insecurities.

//

Once his brain processed the newly found information, Lando understood, as best as he could, where Y/N's insecurity regarding her boobs came from. While he'd never admit it, he often wondered whether he himself was "developed" enough. He had always been smaller than guys his age, something that is hard to hide. Same with breasts, unless you really wanna fake it, you can just tell from the outside.

Ever since that summer afternoon, he started to notice things he did not before. How could he not hear the subtle comments she made so often?

He was hanging out in her room, the last evening before he parted to several races. They were suppose to meet some friends later, so he stopped by, expecting her to be ready, while she was busy trying on a seventh top and still not liking it.

"This one has just too low of a v-neck," she whispered, perhaps more to herself, but ultimately, he did hear her. It's been weeks since the first and last time they spoke about it, Lando managed to pass many comments she made about herself.

But, fuck it this time. It was bothering him endlessly that she was insecure like that.

"That's it, Y/N. You know that the size of the boobs does not matter, right? Guys don't care about that," he stood behind her, locking eyes with her through the mirror she was standing in front of.

She froze, staying silent.

He continued. "Tell me, did a guy ever complain when you slept together?" They would usually share stories of their "achievements" in the past, so he was aware that she was sexually active. It was just that recently, that thought became sort of uncomfortable. Other guys touching her.

She snapped back. "Well, they never complained, but the also never even looked at them, so how could they know!"

"What does that mean?" he asked, once again confused.

She wished her mouth would wait for her brain to approve sometimes. Especially with Lando. There goes nothing. "'I've always kept a shirt on."

Baffled Lando wondered how could those other guys allow it. "So you've never shown your tits to a guy?" he said, almost astonished.

"No...It's not my asset and I know it. My, um...my ass is pretty good?" she defended and he had to try so hard not to picture her, on all knees, spine bending and her ass perked up towards him.

He swallowed, barely believing the words he was about to hear coming from his mouth. "Then show them to me."

Her eyes went wide. "Lando!" They had a close friendship, but not the kind where walk around naked in front of each other.

He held his arms up in defense. "No, I mean...hey, you know me. You have to show them to a guy one day anyway. And I promise I'll tell you the truth. No bullshit." He knew he crossed a line. Which was why he almost did not believe her next word.

"Ok."

To be fair, it did make some sense. If you really look for it. But while he was crushing on her without realizing, she had been crushing on him for months, fully aware of it. There was a tingling in her stomach when he made this suggestion. Unfamiliar, exciting tension. As if she wanted him to stare at her tits, no matter how insecure she felt about them.

"But I can't watch you," she added, turning around to face him. "I'd be too embarassed."

"So close your eyes?" he noted the obvious.

"No, you gotta tie my eyes," she said, making his cock twitch in his pants.

//

It was hard for Lando to wrap around his head what exactly was happening. As he was tieing up a band around Y/N eyes, she accidentally touched his hands when she was checking it.

"It is too tight?" he asked softly, waiting for her to deny it.

"All good."

He stepped away and turned her around so that she would stand face-to-face with him.

"Um, whenever you're ready, I guess," he announced. Part of him could not believe what was happening, another part of his was scared she's back out and another was terrified of himself. And how much he craved to see her.

She took a deep breath and tried to block all her thoughts. And boy, were there many. The strangest one was the excitement.

With one swift move she took her shirt off. Lando's pupils were wide and he probably didn't blink for minutes now. She bit her lower lip and turned around to face him. He had seen her in a bikini before, why was this so much better. She put her hands back and finally took her bra off.

He should have never suggested it. He knew he'd not forget the sight of her small, perky boobs with perfect nipples anytime soon. It was better when he did not know. He stared in silence, while she stood there, blindfolded, nervously rubbing her fingers.

"Gosh, say something, please," she pleaded impatiently.

"Um...No, um," he said, getting his voice stuck for a moment.

"Oh shit, it's bad, right?" she asked, while her heart sank in.

"No!," he immediately reacted, somewhat coming back to Earth. "They are...nice," he said, trying to downplay his own excitement. "Small, but nice. Firm...I guess."

She sighed. "Ok..."

He shifted himself, gaining more presence again. He was aware that what he said would affect her deeply, so his plan was to fix his initial reaction, not to make her wonder. "Seriously. If a girl I was on a date with had your boobs, I'd be more than happy. Trust me."

She relaxed a bit and instinctively went to somewhat cover herself up again with her hands. "That's good to know. Thank you."

He wanted more. To see more. His hormones acted before he did, shooting the boldest test of their friendship.

"There is one thing my sister mentioned few times..." he said before he managed to stop himself. "Apparently...if you massage them, it helps the blood flow and helps them grow," he stated, almost ashamed of himself for making things up like that. It was wrong. He should have just tell her upfront just how much he wants ti touch her.

She knew well enough that was some bullshit. But it was a chance. To know what if feels like when a guy like Lando touches you.

"Um, this might sound weird, but, um, can you show me?" she asked, blinfold giving her the courage she normally lacked.

He could not believe he had standing in front of him, bare-chested, blindfolded and oh so innocent. This sight was awakening parts of him he did not know existed. At that point, he was hard as a rock.

"Yeah, I guess I could do that. But, you should probably lie down," he suggested and took her hand in his, leading her slowly to her bed. She could already feel the fire of his touch when he touched her shoulder. Lando shamelessly watched her nipples harden once he did. The blindfold was a miracle.

He laid her down on her back and popped himself up on his elbows on her left side. Now that they were on the bed, he started to feel more at ease and all of it felt less wrong. She couldn't see him, but his warmth radiated on her naked chest and his intoxicating cologne hit her nose once he put her down.

What she couldn't see was the way he smiled softly at the sights in front of him, taking his time to create as much imagery in his memory as possible. She shivered with cold.

"You should start, I'm getting cold," she said impatiently.

"Anything you want, baby" he replied absentmindedly, not noticing the way he addressed her. The word would ring in her ears for days on. Lando completely forgot what game he was suppose to play. His brain left the conversation a while ago and he was fully focused on the picture in front if him. He had lying down and waiting for his touch.

He started with her left nipple, lightly, feathery, almost non existent touch. His eyes were flashing between watching her chest rise up and down and her face. She bit her lower lip, as if she was trying to hide the way it affected her. He couldn't help but smile and lick his lips. He began tracing little figured of eight on the top of her nipple and when he was sure he got her sensitive enough, he pinched her for the first time. A soft, surprised sigh escaped her mouth. He did not have think about his actions at all, it was all so natural and easy. He pinched her nipple once again, harder this time, before he moved onto cupping her breast and giving it a squeeze, while watching her attentively. She pulled her head back a bit and he knew he had her. Afraid to speak, he continued to squeeze her and then traced her up and down, making sure not to miss her nipple anytime he did.

"The other one," she whispered so quietly he nearly missed it. But he didn't. With a smirk, he kept his hand on her left nipple, and reached over to her right breast. All of the adrenaline hitting up, he leaned over and when his mouth was almost touching her, then carefully licked her nipple. He watched her, half expecting her to freak out and send him away. To his satisfaction, she flinched in a way he never saw he before. There was something sensual, primal about the way air exited her mouth. Still blindfolded, she had no idea his eyes were glued on her face. If they weren't, he'd probably miss out on her soft "More...". He started kissing and gently biting the rest of her boobs, painting pictures with red bruises. She arched up a bit, as if her body was trying to get closer to him. First moan escaped her lips like a shy whisper. The rest that followed were unfiltered, mindless proof that she was fully in the moment. He got more and more excited, his cock hard as a rock, begging to get released. But he was afraid anything more would cause her to back off. So he continued with this actions, switching up between her nipples, breasts and sometimes roamed over to the neck. To get carried away was the easiest thing ever. As he tasted her skin, he got intoxicated. She surprised him when her hands reached out to his own body, done playing the passenger and joining on action. First she ran her fingers through his hair, pushing him more to her chest and then her soft fingers reached over to his shirt, movement suggesting to pull it off. This sort of woke him up back again. He pulled his shirt off and watched her smile when she noticed his bare chest.

"Now we're even," she commented and with no shame touched all around his muscles. A small alarm was going off in Lando's head. He was enjoying this a little too much. The realization that the line that got crossed was out of sight at that point hit him. So he chose to try and get even further. He leaned over to her face and licked the line of neck, stopping right at her ears. Then he bit her earlobe before wetting it with his tongue and blowing lightly on it. The shivers again. He could watch that all day. She melted into his embrace, arching towards him once again. Lando placed slow kisses on her cheek, one by one, until he got so close to her lips he could feel her breath mixing with his own. He hovered, prolonging this moment, the last seconds before it inevitably all fell down. Her chest was rising up and down rapidly. "Do it," she whispered, their lips almost touching accidentally. He waited for few moments, biting his own lip while wishing it was hers. "Not like this," he said, catching her off guard. Before she had a chance to respond, he reached over to her blindfold and removed it. Their eyes met for what felt like the first time. He saw high, excitement and a hint of fear, as she adjusted to the light and to the sight of him being so close. Reality check.

"Can I kiss you now?" he pleaded softly, staring at her, desperate for her answer.

It was all very different and very much real when she could see him. She gulped before taking the leap, falling into the trap that were his incredibly blueish green eyes.

"Yes."

[abby-howard]

I love everyone's outfits in Scarlett Hollow (especially Kaneeka's) so I wanted to ask how do you go about designing multiple outfits for each character that are different yet still fit that characters general aesthetic. Also do you have a favorite/least favorite outfit.

Aw thank you!!

Designing outfits is definitely not something that came very naturally to me at the start of Scarlet Hollow, but I've been gettin' the hang of it as I go-- I'd say a lot of it is about the vibe. I sketch a new outfit, and if it feels like they're in a costume, I scrap it. Color in particular gets tricky... one color can throw off a whole look and make them feel like their aura is off. Picking a palette in advance is a good idea!

I think it's mostly about understanding your character and the kinds of choices they make; Kaneeka cares a lot about how others view her, so she presents as very put-together, thus her outfits are always a little complicated and carefully constructed. Whereas Stella is laid back and probably hates having to think about what she's wearing, so she goes with roughly the same combination of jeans and a t shirt every day.

More of my rules for each main character under the cut! Minor spoilers for Scarlet Hollow:

I answered a similar question during an AMA, so I'm paraphrasing from those answers~

Stella: her shirt must match the theme of the episode while also being a believable cryptid/folklore t shirt design. She has a red/neutral theme, plus jeans. Butch sense of fashion with casual sensibilities.

Kaneeka: is a nu-goth, so no corsets or elaborate frills, and no techno-goth or scene/emo accoutrements. Her emo days are far behind her... so now she wears all black, no color besides her red braids, with interesting clothing shapes and the occasional lace or metallic accent. This is pretty close to how I dress so I just think about if it's something I would wear.

Oscar: he's a professional! So suits and button-ups, except his undershirt episode. He has a tan/yellow theme with unsaturated red accents, which he shares with his daughter Rosalina. His outfits are the toughest to mix up, because he dresses nice for work and only owns one suit. But I try to get creative where I can!

Avery: a plant theme, which includes mostly greens, with some purples, oranges, and earthy yellow allowed. Definitely has the widest palette, since they have to have interesting patterned button-ups. Can have a coat if needed, always tan, and nice dress pants that have a little bit of a bellbottom.

Reese: Wears whatever. A vague blue theme. Nothing looks like it fits him right. I have given him a cool jacket for Episode 5, but I can't post that sprite... too spoiler.......