#word count 2501

[colorthecosmos444]

My Cherie Amour

by cece & lele ★

Sweet Like Cherries Part Two

Summary: Matt and Reader didn't intend on having a first date yet, but little do they know Nick and Chris have something special planned for them. Afterall, they are Matt's best wingmen.

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2501

A/N: this is co-written by the amazing @vanteguccir !!!! please go give her account some love and read her work. lele thanks for being my best friend. 💗

☾ ★☀ ☾ ★☀ ☾  ★☾ ★☀ ☾ ★☀ ☾  ★☾ ★☀ ☾ ★

Matt’s lips devour mine as we sit in the parking lot of the local grocery store. We were able to go inside and get whatever Chris needed, but as soon as we bought the items and got back to the car, we both completely forgot our given task of returning home. Hands roaming each other, our breaths hot and heavy, I am completely lost in his touch. Time has melted away and my brain is on fire, thinking about the way Matt’s lips move against mine so tenderly. His hand holding the back of my neck, his playlist softly filling the car with the sound of Mac Miller’s voice.

A moan escapes from my throat, diving into the kiss. Matt´s lips form a smirk against mine before moving a bit more aggressively, his fingers tugging my hair and his broad shoulders leaning over me as he pushes me against my seat.

I pull away, gasping for air and clinging to the collar of his shirt. “Matt,” I whisper, trying to catch my breath, “we should probably get going before this milk gets spoiled.” He rests his head against my forehead, looking into my eyes.

“I really don’t want to, though,” he mutters, pecking my lips again before sighing and buckling himself back in and starting the car. “We should get back, otherwise Nick and Chris are gonna give me hell.” I giggle at his frustration, buckling myself in and reaching over to hold Matt’s hand as he drives us back to his house.

—----------------

Back at home, Nick and Chris stood in the kitchen, surveying the array of ingredients spread out on the counter. The soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional clatter of utensils were the only sounds breaking the silence. Chris adjusted his apron, emblazoned with the pathetic phrase “Kiss the Cook,” while Nick fiddled with the stove knobs, trying to remember which burner was which.

“Alright, Chef Boyardee.” Chris started, raising an eyebrow at Nick. “What’s the game plan?”

Nick glanced at the recipe book open on the counter, scratching his head.

“Well, it looks like we’re making pasta, salad, garlic bread, and we can use the Maraschino Cherry cake for dessert. Should be easy enough, right?”

Chris laughed, shaking his head.

“Easy, he says. We can barely boil water without setting off the smoke alarm. Why are we doing all of this again?”

“Details, details.” Nick muttered, flipping the recipe book to the first page. “We are supposed too be Matt’s wingmen, and we told him that we’d help him out. Let's give them a nice romantic evening. We can start with the pasta. How hard can it be to boil some water and throw in some noodles?”

As Nick filled a large pot with water and set it on the stove, Chris rummaged through the pantry, pulling out a bag of pasta.

“What about the sauce? We need to make that from scratch, right?”

Nick glanced at the recipe, his index finger sliding on the crisp page momentarily, nodding seconds after.

“Yeah, looks like it. We need tomatoes, garlic, onions, and some spices. You start chopping the veggies, and I’ll get the water boiling.”

Chris grabbed a cutting board and a knife, starting with the onions.

“You know, this would be a lot easier if we actually knew what we were doing.”

“Where’s the fun in that? Besides, it’s for Matt and Y/N. They deserve a special night.” Nick smirked, stirring the pot of water.

Chris rolled his eyes, his cornea burning and taking on a red hue, tears starting to pool from the onions, a hiss escaping through his gritted teeth.

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t let the water boil over while you’re daydreaming about being a master chef.” As Chris continued chopping, Nick added the pasta to the boiling water, giving it a stir.

“I’m not daydreaming. I’m focusing.”

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” Chris retorted, tossing the chopped onions and garlic into a pan with a splash of olive oil. The kitchen filled with the fragrant aroma of sautéing vegetables, making their stomachs rumble.

Nick grabbed the tomatoes, quickly chopping them up and adding them to the pan.

“How’s it looking, Chef?” His tone was a mix of formality and bitterness.

Chris stirred the mixture, nodding approvingly.

“Not bad. Let’s add some spices and let it simmer.”

As the sauce bubbled away, Nick turned his attention to the garlic bread. He sliced a loaf of French bread in half, slathering it with butter and a generous amount of minced garlic.

“Think we can handle putting this in the oven without burning it?”

Chris smirked, grabbing the tray of bread.

“Only one way to find out.” He slid the tray into the oven, staring at the buttons above it before finally setting a timer. “Now, what about the salad?”

“Lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes…what else?” Nick rummaged through the fridge, pulling out a variety of fresh vegetables.

Chris looked around, his hands resting on his hips, thinking

“Maybe some carrots and a bit of cheese?”

“Sounds good. Can’t believe we even have all this in the fridge.” Nick uttered, washing the vegetables and setting them on the counter. They worked together, slicing and dicing, occasionally bickering over the best way to cut a cucumber or how thin the carrot slices should be.

As they finished the salad, the timer for the garlic bread went off. Chris carefully pulled the tray from the oven, the golden-brown bread filling the kitchen with a mouthwatering aroma.

“I think we actually did it.” He said, a note of surprise in his voice, his blue eyes widened.

Nick peeked at the pasta sauce, giving it a final stir.

“Don’t jinx it. We still have to bake the cake.”

Chris groaned, glancing at the clock.

“Right. Dessert. How hard can it be?”

They turned their attention to the cake, grabbing the decadent batter that they made earlier. Despite their lack of culinary expertise, they managed to get the cake into the oven without too much trouble.

As the cake baked, Nick and Chris tidied up the kitchen, occasionally sneaking tastes of the pasta sauce and garlic bread.

“You know.” Nick said, leaning against the counter. “We might just pull this off.”

“Yeah, it’s not half bad. And it’s for a good cause.” Chris nodded, a satisfied smile on his face.

Nick grinned, glancing at the clock.

“We should get everything set up. They’ll be home soon.”

Together, they arranged the table, lighting the candles and placing the bouquet of flowers Chris had ordered from doordash in the center. The pasta was plated, the salad placed in a large bowl, and the garlic bread arranged neatly on a serving tray. As they finished, the timer for the cake went off, and Chris pulled it from the oven, the sweet scent of cherries filling the room.

They iced the cake, their movements careful and messy, but turning it pretty either way. They topped it off with a couple cherries, completing their duties. Once everything was ready, they stepped back, admiring their efforts.

“I think we did good.” Nick said, a note of pride in his voice. “We should become chefs someday.”

Chris laughed nasally, nodding and clapping his brother on the back before crossing his arms.

“Yeah, we did. Now, let’s hope they love it.”

Just as they finished, they heard the front door open, and Matt and Y/N’s voices filled the house. Nick and Chris exchanged a grin, ready to surprise their brother and his girlfriend with the romantic dinner they had worked so hard to create.

—------------

As we arrive back home, Matt parks the car and turns to me, smiling his big goofy smile that makes me swoon. He leans in and kisses me a few times before grabbing the plastic bag of groceries from the back seat.

Matt’s smile is infectious as he steps out of the car, grocery bag in hand. I follow him to the front door, our fingers brushing together, sending little sparks of excitement through me. He unlocked the door, being careful to not drop his keychain on the ground, before pushing the door open.

We start our steps on the short stairs towards the living room and kitchen. As soon as I step into the room, I immediately sense something different.

“Why are the lights dimmed?” I ask, squinting slightly in the low light, the soft glow casting mysterious shadows across the walls.

Matt glances around, a look of genuine surprise and confusion crossing his face.

“I have no idea. Nick? Chris? You guys home?” He calls out, his voice echoing through the seemingly empty house.

We walk further into the house, the familiar tap of our feet against the cold floor echoing through the walls, guiding us toward the kitchen. As we round the corner, I gasp, my breath catching in my throat. The kitchen table is set up beautifully, with elegant tapered candles flickering softly, casting a warm, romantic glow around the room. A bouquet of fresh flowers sits in the center, their delicate petals adding a splash of color to the intimate setting. The aroma of a delicious meal wafts through the air, tantalizing my senses.

“Surprise!” Nick and Chris appear from the small hall that leads to Matt´s bedroom, grinning widely, their faces lit up with excitement. Their loud screams make me jump slightly, moving closer to Matt automatically.

“Guys, what is this?” Matt asks, clearly stunned, his eyes wide with amazement and hesitancy.

Chris steps forward, holding a bottle of wine and two glasses, his movements graceful and deliberate.

“We thought you two could use a special night. You know, a little romance.” He winks at me, his playful expression making me smile, shaking my head in disbelief.

Nick claps Matt on the back, a brotherly gesture filled with affection.

“We’ve got everything under control. Dinner is ready, and we’ll be your servers for the evening.”

I glance at Matt, his eyes shining with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know?” He says, his voice soft and sincere, a breathy laugh escaping his half-opened mouth.

Nick shrugs, smiling warmly.

“We wanted to. You two deserve it.”

Chris motions for us to sit at the table, pulling out a chair with a flourish.

“Please, have a seat. Dinner will be served shortly.” He raises his face with a snobbish expression, embodying a real waiter.

Matt, ever the gentleman, pulls out my chair, gesturing for me to sit before he takes his place across from me. The candlelight flickers, casting a soft, golden glow over his features, highlighting the warmth in his eyes. He reaches across the table, taking my hand in his, his touch sending a wave of comfort through me.

“This is incredible.” I whisper, squeezing his hand gently. “I can’t believe they did this.”

Matt’s eyes soften, a look of pure affection in them.

“Me neither. But I’m glad they did.”

Chris and Nick move around the kitchen with practiced ease, serving us a sumptuous meal of perfectly cooked pasta, golden garlic bread, and a fresh, crisp salad. They work seamlessly together, their movements synchronized as they make us feel like royalty. We laugh and talk, the atmosphere filled with love and warmth, each moment more precious than the last.

As we finish our meal, Nick brings out the mouthwatering maraschino cherry cake for dessert, his eyes twinkling with pride.

“Hope you saved room for this.” He says with a grin, setting the cake down in front of us.

Matt and I share a piece, feeding each other bites with playful tenderness, giggling like kids.

“I think we did a pretty damn good job, even though you were blind,” Matt chuckles, indulging in another bite of the delicious dessert.

“That’s only because I had the best helper,” I flirt, winking at him and letting out a soft giggle.

The evening feels magical, every moment perfect, as if we’ve stepped into a fairy tale.

When dinner is over, Chris and Nick clear the table with a flourish, leaving us with the last of the wine. Matt leans back in his chair, his eyes locked onto mine, a smile playing on his lips that makes my heart skip a beat.

“Thank you for tonight.” I say softly to Nick and Chris, my voice filled with gratitude and a hint of awe at the magical evening we’ve had. “This has been amazing.”

“No need to thank us, it was our pleasure,” Nick insists.

Chris walks over to the tv in the living room and sets up his music.

“I’m going to get this party started for you,” he teases, playing a slow romantic song from a premade playlist on Spotify.

Nick and Chris smirk at us and wander upstairs, leaving us alone in the dimly lit room.

“You want to dance, beautiful?” Matt asks.

I feel a warm blush creep up my cheeks, his words enveloping me like a gentle embrace. There’s a sincerity in his tone that touches the deepest parts of my heart.

“I love you, Matt.” I whisper, the words carrying all the depth of my feelings for him.

He stands, moving around the table with a purposeful grace. His movements are slow and deliberate, as if he’s savoring every step that brings him closer to me. When he reaches my side, he pulls me up into his arms, the warmth of his body comforting and familiar.

“I love you too, Y/N.” He whispers, his voice filled with emotion, resonating with a quiet intensity that sends shivers down my spine. He presses a gentle kiss to my lips, the touch soft and tender, yet powerful in its simplicity.

We stand there, wrapped up in each other, the flickering candlelight casting a warm, intimate glow around us. The soft glow highlights the contours of Matt’s face, the shadows dancing playfully across his features. It feels as though the world outside has faded away, leaving just the two of us, swaying to the rhythm of the love song, lost in the magic of the moment.

The room is filled with a serene silence, apart from the voice of Stevie Wonder dancing in the air. It’s the kind that speaks volumes without uttering a single word. The scents of the evening mingle with the faint hint of wine, creating a sensory tapestry that is both soothing and intoxicating. Matt’s arms around me are a safe haven, a place where I feel completely at ease and utterly cherished.

With a soft sigh, I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It’s a sound that brings me peace, a reminder of the deep bond we share. Years of friendship now blossoming into a deep passionate love story. Matt’s fingers gently stroke my hair, his touch light and reassuring. In his arms, I feel completely and utterly loved, as if nothing in the world could ever harm me.

☾ ★☀ ☾ ★☀ ☾  ★☾ ★☀ ☾ ★☀ ☾  ★☾ ★☀ ☾ ★

tag list: @aurora-merritt @spideylovin @watercolorskyy @esioleren @luvbotsblog @bernardsbendystraws @lovekaiya @pouring-rains @1800-love-me @flouvela @fratbrochrisgf @demzzz @vanteguccir

𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 <3

𝔫𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔤𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

love you all to the stars, cece ★

[bring-backup-99]

First Time’s The Charm

Read on Ao3

PAIRING: Tech x Phee

SUMMARY: Some sweet smut about Tech and Phee’s first time together

WORDS COUNT: 2501

RATING + WARNINGS: 18+, very spicy, porn with feelings, PiV, fluff, kissing

NOTES: When I’m not working on my Batch reverse harem “Bad Choices” smutlet series on Ao3, I occasionally write other stuff. I have a long form WIP that will probably never be finished, so you all might as well have the smut from it.

And yes, this is virgin Tech (which is basically the opposite of him in Bad Choices), though I will fight people if they suggest that he couldn’t still be good at sex from the start. The man loves research. He knows what and where a clitoris is. I will die on this hill.

The first night Tech had stayed with Phee, it had simply been a matter of them talking too late and falling asleep on her couch. When they’d woken up in the soft morning light, both had felt sheepish. She’d laughed it off. 

“You’ll fall asleep anywhere, Brown Eyes.” He didn’t deny it.

A few days later, they were in her little workshop, telling each other stories, true stories, while she cataloged and he tinkered. As he walked her home, their hands brushed together until finally their fingers slowly intertwined. He didn’t come in, but they stood in the moonlight outside her door holding hands and talked about everything but what was happening between them.

When they had first met, so many rotations ago, she had liked him immediately, primarily because he was handsome, and then later because he was kind, brilliant, intense, and strong. He was so different from the other men she knew. Bringing them all to Pabu was impulsive, but she’d never regret doing it, giving them a safe space where they were appreciated for their kindness and desire to help, where they flourished, where Omega could have a home.

He began walking her home every night, and they would stand outside holding hands, until finally, one night, she leaned into him and he put his arm around her.

“This is nice, Tech,” she’d said, using his real name to show how serious she was. He’d looked down at her.

“Yes. I would use that descriptor as well.”

Impulsively, she’d risen onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. For a moment, she was afraid she’d gone too far. His body had stiffened abruptly, but just as quickly it relaxed. The kiss was sweet and soft, close-mouthed. He’d pulled away slightly.

“I have never kissed anyone before.”

The words overwhelmed Phee. She had thought it was possible his life hadn’t allowed such things, and she wanted to be careful. 

“Is this okay? We don’t have to.” Tech stopped her by lifting her chin so they could kiss again. She pulled him in, and they stayed on her couch while she taught him something new. He was a fast learner.

He stayed with her almost every night, slowly divesting himself of the various layers that he wore as the evenings passed. First, his utility belt and pouches. The night he took off his gloves, and she had felt his bare hands on her own, against her face and neck, had made her giddy. She spent the next day mooning over him like she was a schoolgirl. She chided herself for it; she was too old and wise for this nonsense, but Phee couldn’t stop.

And it was the night he took off his goggles because their kissing had knocked them askew for the umpteenth time that she knew she’d truly fallen for him. Someone’s eyes shouldn’t have that power over her, yet she’d never met anyone so absolutely honest that it reflected perfectly in their gaze. Phee’d been with other people, of course, but she’d never let them into her life the way she let Tech in. 

Because she trusted him, and she knew this gesture from him was because he trusted her too.

*

“Can this come off tonight?” she whispered, running her hands over the chest of his blacks. Their embrace tonight had been particularly passionate and she wanted him as close to her as possible.

“Yes, I would find that acceptable.” 

"Let me know if you feel uncomfortable, Brown Eyes." 

"Just...proceed slowly." 

Phee was trying to do just that. She’d imagined the first time they had sex, that she’d take him to a field of flowers or a beach at sunset…or the back of a library. But now she knew none of those was going to happen.

She circled him, her hand never breaking contact as she felt the contours of his body under the fabric. Finally, she faced him and slowly pulled up the shirt. She ran the back of her hand against his skin, noted that he was hardly breathing. She waited for him to relax, then pulled the shirt off, leaving his torso fully bare. She could feel his tension as he lay back on the bed, his eyes slightly glazed.

“Are you okay?” she asked as she lay beside him.

“Yes,” but the word was almost inaudible.

Tentatively, she stroked his chest, waiting for his breathing to return to normal. She didn’t know what she expected, but his slim, muscular frame fulfilled any fantasy she had had. Her fingers fluttered over a scar on his shoulder. 

"Droid," he said. Another scar on his side. "Knife wound. Not from Hunter," he smiled. He turned slightly and showed her one on his hip. "Shrapnel, only partially because of Wrecker." She leaned over, kissing each of them. Hungry for him, she kissed a trail from his hip to his chest. Impulsively, she licked his nipple, and he cried out in shock. Phee drew back quickly. 

“I'm sorry." 

"No, no. That felt...intense. I was not expecting it.” He drew her to him, kissed her, then whispered, "Do it again." 

Hungrily, her lips moved along his neck, drinking in every reaction he had to her touch, then down to his other nipple. Tentatively, she licked it, feeling the hitch in his breathing, then gently raked it with her teeth. He moaned. She did the same on the other side, reveling in his response to her. 

His hands began to roam around her body, finding their way under her shirt. On fire, she pulled it off and let him explore her at his own pace. She was desperate to feel his skin against her own, but she did not want to overwhelm him. As she had explored him, his hands did the same to her; caressing the small of her back, the nape of her neck, the curve of her breasts. She gasped at his touch, inflamed, desperate for more. He pulled her closer, and she pressed her body against his, chest to chest. He rolled on top of her, lips locked together, one of his legs between her own. All her control was gone. 

She let her hand slide down to the growing bulge in his pants. 

"I want to touch you," she said, giving him time to stop her, but he was as inflamed as she was. He groaned and arched his back as her hand cupped him. His responses to her were unbelievable, feeding the flames of her desire.

“Please, take this off.” She fumbled at his pants. “Please, if you are ready.”

He stood and pulled them off, as she slipped out of the rest of her clothes. Standing next to him, looking into his eyes, she took his erection in her hand. It took every ounce of his self control not to climax right then, the sensations were so overwhelming. She pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him. She leaned forward to kiss him and look into his beautiful eyes. She took his hand, and together they guided his length into her as she lowered herself onto him. 

He cried out as he entered her. She moved slowly, never breaking eye contact, until he was fully inside her. 

“Tech, if you become uncomfortable or need us to stop—”

“I can manage,” he said, his jaw clenched, his eyes focused on her, fingers intertwined. She waited a few moments, letting their bodies acclimate to the new sensations, then together they slowly began moving, finding a rhythm that suited them both. 

He held her hips and pushed his pelvis up to be as deep inside her as he could. Her gasps and cries excited him in a way he had never felt, his body responding on instinct as she rocked against him more insistently. 

He could see her eyes losing focus, even as he could sense the same in himself, as he felt the build up in his body, a pressure he had never experienced and did not fully understand. This was so different from the furtive, utilitarian fumblings he managed in the ‘fresher when the need arose.    

In a move that took her breath away, he pressed himself up, put his arm around her waist, and rotated both of them so he was on top of her. The absolutely feral cry she gave him as her limbs wrapped around his body nearly sent him over the edge. He held her close, trying to slow down, to make this last longer, this sweet, intense, incredible feeling. 

She refused to let it happen. She rocked her pelvis against him, desperate for him to lose control, to match her passion. He gasped. 

"I need to...Phee, if you do not stop…I am too close," he groaned. 

"We'll do this again," she whispered. "I want you. I want you inside me. I want to feel you." She felt incoherent, but she also felt him let go. He lifted one of her legs, hooking it over his arm, giving him an angle to somehow be deeper inside her. His body took over, his thrusts stronger, wilder. Her hands pressed on his lower back, encouraging him. 

Her moans of, "Yes, please, yes. Tech. Yes," finally put him over the edge. The absolute bliss of the orgasm was almost too much for him. He buried his head in her neck, drowning himself in her essence, as it pulsed over his body. He lay still on top of her for what he thought was an eternity as the sensation slowly drifted away, leaving him tingling all over like exposed nerves. 

Cautiously, she stroked her hand down his back. He shuddered a bit but didn't say anything, then slowly slid out of her as he rolled next to her. 

"That was amazing," she whispered.

“I…quite agree.” He lifted his head and looked at her, "But you did not..." His voice trailed off. 

She smiled, kissed him, "That's not always the most important part of sex. The...intimacy...this closeness I feel with you, right now. This is better. But also, that was still incredible. You're a natural."

"I did do some research before this encounter…Though it did not prepare me for the intensity of the physical stimulation." She laughed.

"Why is that funny? As I do not have any experience in this area, I wanted to be prepared."

"The idea of you doing research about this on your datapad is very funny, but I'm not going to complain about the results." She rolled out of bed to clean up. 

"It will take a little time before I can physically do this again, but.." For a moment he seemed almost shy, "...would you want to when I am ready?"

She got back into the bed, snuggling next to him. 

"Yes," she said huskily.

“You were correct,” he said, pulling her close against him, “This was... special. More than just a physical act.” He felt foolish for ever having suggested otherwise in one of their long conversations. His voice drifted off, and she thought he might fall asleep, but instead they lay in wakeful silence, intertwined. 

“What is going on in there?" she asked.  

In reply, his hands again began roaming over her body. Lightly, his fingertips raised goosebumps on her arms and down her back. She shivered but felt herself opening again for him. His fingers caressed her breasts, tracing a path around them until he moved and his mouth found her hard nipples. He gently stimulated one, then the other, with his tongue. 

Now that his mind had cleared, he was studying her carefully. Every action and response was filed away. His hand stroked down her side, then to her already parted legs. He kissed her as his fingers explored between her legs, and he drank up her moans. He slid a wet finger up until he found her clit and just barely made contact with it, feeling her body tighten at the touch. He rubbed against it and was rewarded with a deep gasp. He slid two fingers inside of her, leaving his thumb to work against her sensitive nub. Her reaction was instant. Her thighs closed around his hand, and she groaned as his long fingers reached deeper into her.

"Tech," she whispered. "I need you...I need you inside me." 

"Yes, but this type of stimulation will help you to orgasm. I want to ensure that first."

She shook her head, "Oh it feels so good, but I...I don't finish like that. I need..." In her state, words were hard to come by, "...the internal stimulation." 

It took only a moment for him to process this, and then, "It does seem as if I am ready to fulfill this need." Her hand had been stroking him to hardness, but he was so focused on her he had barely noticed.

He pressed into her, slowly, each stroke entering her only a little more than the last, until one had a very pronounced reaction. Then he came up slightly on his knees, lifting her legs with him, sure that this angle would allow him better access to this most important spot. He began with short thrusts and was rewarded by her immediate cries. 

"Yes, oh, Tech, yes, right there," though her physical reaction would have been enough for him to know he had gotten it right. Her hands had grabbed onto the covers, clawing at the sheets. He timed himself to match the crescendo of her moans and whimpers, varying his strokes, sometimes deep, sometimes shallow, then returning to stimulate this more sensitive area, watching the build up of tension in her body, noting how her arms moved in spasms, her eyes closed tight, her mouth whispering incoherently. 

Suddenly her fingers were digging into his forearm, her cries a higher pitched staccato than what had come before, and he watched the orgasm overtake her body. She writhed under him, his thrusts against her sensitive inner wall bringing wave after wave of pleasure. As her reaction finally subsided, he lay over the top of her, kissing her deeply, drinking in everything about her, feeling almost more satisfied now than when he had had his own orgasm. He rocked into her gently, feeling the length of himself enclosed in her, enjoying this unimagined intimacy and reveling in the whole of her. 

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him as close as she could, breathing him into her. He pressed his forehead to hers as he let the second orgasm flow through his body, kissing her, needing her, wanting her.

“Good job, Brown Eyes,” she smiled. “Hard to believe that was your first time.” She liked seeing that satisfied glint in his eyes that came from praise.

“Yes, well, there is always room for improvement, especially since there seem to be an infinite variety of positions, techniques, and implements that can be used to enhance—”

She silenced him with her lips. “Slow down. Let’s just enjoy tonight.” 

And they did.

* *

I also write a smutty Bad Batch reverse harem series that can be found here.

Warning: It gets kinky.

[lorifragolina]

More than Roommates...?

Another entry for @harringrovesummerbingo!

It's a silly rom com and I tried to keep it short :) I hope you enjoy it!

Title: More than Roommates...?

Square & Prompt: C1 "Laughter"

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2501

Major Tags: Friendly schemes, Enemies to Lovers

Summary:

Steve and Billy are roommates, but they didn't start with the right foot... even if they became attracted to each other pretty soon. But both of them think that the other didn't swing the same way... Two smart friends and a good scheme are needed for making them move... or not?

Read it on AO3

“Robin, he’s not gay, it’s as plain as day”.

“I never see him with a girl”.

“It’s because he’s not… I mean, he doesn’t… he just goes casual”.

“Well you can just ask and remove any doubt”.

“Are you nuts? He’s my roommate, I can’t go and ask something like this”.

Robin snorted and shrugged. It was the third or fourth time they had a similar discussion, in a corner of the cafeteria in front of their morning coffees. Usually, Steve had some wet dream about his roommate and went to venting with her. 

“Well I’ll ask him then,” she said stubbornly, frankly fed up with the hesitation of her best friend.

“Don’t you dare! Do you have an idea of how much it has cost me to find that room? I can’t ruin things with him”.

“I know, Steve, do you forget we moved here together?”

“Yes but you are a brainiac and you have your room granted in the residence”.

Robin snorted again soundly. It hadn't been so easy as Steve was painting it,  for her, but she could understand his doubts. 

Moreover, Steve and his roommate had a rough start and now, almost at the end of their freshman year, things were smoother and it was better trying not to ruin them.

“So, did you have some action lately?”

Heather adjusted the camera and went nearer to the screen, smiling slyly.

Billy sighed. “Nothing at all… dead calm”, he moaned, shaking his head.

“Don’t tell me you're still after him,” she raised her eyes. “Why don’t you make a move yet?”

“Sweet Jesus, he’s not gay!” shrieked Billy, regretting immediately for raising his voice, even if he was in his room alone. “He’s not gay, I already told you”.

“You can’t say. Do you know how many people swing in both ways?”

“He’s not”.

“Did he ever bring a girl into his room?”

“Well Robin is always here, but…”

“But they’re having sex? No, they don’t, so?”

“Well, maybe they…”

“Why don’t you ask him out? What could happen? At least you’ll stop bothering me with that nonsense”.

Billy knew that Heather loved him madly and he didn’t take her words badly, but she didn’t live there and she had no real idea of the situation.

It was him who had to live with Steve, and he didn’t want to ruin the delicate situation they created lately.

They had bitter arguments at the start of the year;  Billy liked to blast his metal out loud and having large Skype call in the common space until late, while Steve loved cheesy pop music and he wanted to sleep in the middle of the night; Billy liked to exercise and go to the gym and take care of his appearance, occupying the bathroom for hours. Steve was equally vain, but ha was not a morning person, so he passed half of his mornings knocking frantically at the bathroom door, and when he was able to going in, he didn’t mind to use Billy’s hair and body product, driving him mad when he smelled the scent of his special hair mousse on Steve’s hair. 

One time Steve had run out of the bathroom yelling like mad because he found Billy’s body hair in his razor, starting an argument that lasted almost two weeks. As if that were not enough, they had argued also in class, bickering about some unimportant detail in the textbook and their feud had been the goss of the week. 

They kept being on each other's way in college orientation events and in the basketball matches, but after a really tense few months, they reasoned out as adults, then they apologized and the cohabitation had started to go better. 

The problem was, for Billy, that all the confront and bickering had made him fixating in Steve’s body language, his moves and gestures and to walk in the room when he was agitated, how he passed his hands in his hair or put his hand on his hips, and specially in how the little mole at the side of his mouth moved when he was arguing, distracting Billy and driving Steve really mad; he didn’t know that in those moment when Billy forgot how to blink, he was thinking of kissing that little mole and all the other moles in his face and licking his neck and biting him and…

“Billy? Are you here?” Steve knocked at the door before entering.

Billy was still on his Skype call.

“I have to go, Heater, I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said in a rush, closing the laptop.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you”.

“Don’t worry, I have already finished the call”.

“Ok… something important?”

“Oh no… family thing, you know, nothing important…”

Steve nodded, taking a glass of water and drinking near the sink with his hand on his hips, pensive. Billy had to gulp his agitation and smiled tensely.

“I was thinking to have a shower, do you want to use the bathroom?” He asked kindly, one of the things he learned to do to maintain their good relationship.

“Oh, no thanks, go ahead,” Steve smiled tensely too, washing a couple of dishes still in the sink since the morning. 

He was almost sure that he heard a feminine voice, he knew that Billy had a sister but it didn’t seem to him the same voice; Billy always closed his calls when he came in the room, because he didn’t want to argue anymore about bothering calls, but Steve suspected he called always the same girl, probably his distant girlfriend and for this he never bring any woman at home. Steve didn’t dare ask to maintain the balance between them and the peace they gained so difficulty.

He suffered for not knowing, anyway… he didn’t define himself as gay, he liked girls, but he also liked men very much, and Billy in particular was his type almost exactly, although they started hating each other; but he liked ripped, neat men, well trimmed, with an angelic nuisance and a nasty attitude; and Billy, with his Californian Barbie complexion, was almost near to perfection, making him struggle to stay formal near to him. Even if Billy still hadn’t picked up any girl at college, he had a crowd of female admirers and he seemed to enjoy it, so Steve knew he couldn’t have a possibility. Moreover, if he would come out with Billy, he could feel uncomfortable; he didn’t seem homophobe, but not everyone wanted to sleep with a non straight roommate. 

“Oh, shit,” groaned Steve, raising his eyes to the cafeteria door. 

“Oh, shit,” echoed Robin, for completely different reasons. 

Billy had just entered with a stunning brunette hanging at his arm, a beaming smile and gushing with happiness.

The girl was short but curvy, with pink hearted glasses and red lips, and a pair of mini shorts that showed her nicely shaped legs; the perfect Barbie complement for Billy, sighed Steve seeing his hopes shattered in the floor. 

Robin couldn’t also take her eyes off of the girl, definitely her type, even if she seemed she couldn't take her eyes off of Billy.

“Hey,” Billy waved at Steve, who he felt he wanted to die. He smiled and waved back. 

“Hello, I didn’t know you were here either… Heather just arrived by train to visit me”.

“Hello,” said the girl, lowering the glasses and raising her hand directly to Robin. “I’m Heather”.

“I’m Robin,” she answered, breathless. They looked at each other for a long, long moment, until Billy dared to speak again.

“And he’s Steve, my roommate”.

Heather smiled again, giving him her hand too. “Oh. I heard a lot about you”.

Steve blushed and Billy nudged her. “Stop it,” he hissed, then went to the bar to order the coffee.

“So, you’re studying here too?” Heather asked directly to Robin, who blushed, leaving Steve wide mouthed and speechless. They talked a little bit, ignoring Steve completely until Billy returned with the drinks. Robin got up to go to class reluctantly.

“Well I’m staying all weekend, I hope you can join us for dinner tonight,” Heather chirped with a soundly voice, and Robin nodded and went away, giggling. 

“So you’re the famous Steve,” she immediately turned to him, resting her face on her hand. “I thought you were taller”.

“Heather!” Hissed Billy.

Steve cleared his throat. “Will you… will you stay in our room?” His voice was oddly high pitched.

“Oh no, I booked a B&B here near the campus. I don’t want to bother you two big guys,” she giggled and they both blushed furiously. 

“But I hope you don’t mind if she stays a little in the room…” said Billy carefully. 

“Oh no, not at all”.

Heather smiled and they finished their drink, then she and Billy went away to visit the campus, leaving Steve sitting there, heartbroken.

“I don’t want to go to dinner with the lovebirds!” Said Steve later, outside Robin dorm. Robin pouted and looked at him with flames in her eyes. 

“Are you stupid?” She hissed. “I’ll go even if you don’t come”.

“If you like to be the third wheel…”

“God, you’re really stupid!” Robin crossed her arms and refused to talk again with him. 

When she reached them at the restaurant, Steve looked at her, really puzzled. He never saw her so dressed up before. She barely used makeup and combed her hair with a bobby pin to avoid hair in the eyes, but that night she was wearing a fancy jacket and pants and she curled her hair and painted her eyes and lips; she was really pretty, and when he looked the glance Heather gave to her, he finally understood why she called him stupid lately. 

Billy and Steve witnessed their shameless flirtation with wide eyes, unable to say anything and looking furtively at each other, utterly embarrassed. Steve was glad she definitely wasn’t his distant girlfriend, and Billy was glad that Robin was the platonic girlfriend of Steve, but they didn’t know how to break the ice to each other and bring the topic on the table. They kept talking about trivial things, some sport results and TV shows while their friends were talking intensely and ignoring them.

Steve and Billy didn’t notice that they exchanged each other's numbers, but when they left the restaurant, Heather announced that she wanted to go resting after the trip, but she would be free the rest of the weekend to do something fun with them.

Billy walked her to her hotel and Steve and Robin went away in the opposite direction.

“What the fuck was that?” Snapped Steve once they were a little far.

“What?”

“All that thing, you were… flirting with her? You had just met her!”

Robin shrugged, looking at her mobile that had just buzzed. 

“Well she’s not his girlfriend. And he clearly hasn’t problems with queer people”.

Steve sighed. Well, there was a difference between having a lesbian friend and sleeping in the same room with someone who wanted to be in your pants.

“You couldn’t stay quiet, not for a little minute, could you?�� Hissed Billy walking with her.

“You didn’t tell me she was gorgeous and lesbian, Billy. Is your gaydar broken?”

“I don’t… hey I don’t need to justify with you! I… I just didn’t realize”.

“Well it’s the perfect excuse to make a move with him, don’t you think? And you didn’t tell me he had that juicy ass, you little scoundrel”.

“Oh, please, stop! It’s a coincidence his friend is a lesbian. It doesn’t mean anything”

“Oh, it doesn't mean anything, Mr queer like a three dollar bill?”

“Stop this nonsense, I can do nothing with him. He’s straight and we are roommates, that’s all”.

Heather groaned and entered the hotel. She wrote to Robin immediately, chatting with her all night. 

“Is there some club to go dancing near there?” Asked Heather the next night, peeping a glimpse at Robin. 

“Well the Pink Flag is over there and they have good cocktails,” answered Robin immediately, waving at the end of the street. “You don’t have problems going to a queer bar, right, Steve?”

Steve blushed and nodded, of course he didn’t have problems, they went there very often, but he looked at Billy’s face, who blushed, lowered his face and nodded too. The girls joined the queue hand in hand and abandoned them behind. 

Billy tried to smile, worried, and saw the same expression on Steve's face. “Well at least they’re having a good time,” he sighed, while the girls were already chatting with the bouncer, who knew Robin, and obviously Steve. He accurately avoided confessing to Billy that he was a regular there, but he couldn't hide it for longer.

“Hey Steve, it’s been ages, I missed you! Oh, he is the guy Robin just told me about?”

“Hello… hello Alan…” answered nervously Steve, looking at his feet and running inside before the bouncer could say more embarrassing things. 

Robin and Heather were still inside, giggling at the dirty look he launched at them.

“How you dared!” He hissed to Robin. 

“Well you needed a nudge,” she giggled, disappearing on the dance floor with Heather.

Billy was looking at him, confused. “I’m not sure what had just happened outside… Do you come here often?”

Steve blushed. “Well, me and Robin, we… well, you know…”

“And what he said? You… talked about… me… with Robin?”

Steve gulped, looking away, feeling the tense in Billy’s words. 

“She thinks… well, she thinks I have… she thinks I have a little crush on you, that’s all. But don’t worry, I am not…”

“Oh shit,” Billy hit his forehead. “Don’t you see?” Steve looked at him, puzzled. “Don’t you see? They set a trap! It’s so clear!”

“A trap? But why? You don’t… don’t you…?”

Billy snickered, a little embarrassed too. “Well, well it’s possible that I… I mentioned to Heather that… I may like my roommate just a little bit”.

“Those filthy little bitches!” Snapped Steve, and Billy laughed, heartily, defusing the tension between them. Steve joined his laughter, looking in his eyes and staring at his swollen, juicy lips.

“I… I never heard you laughing…” he said, touching Billy’s arm with bashfulness. “I like it,” he smiled then, and Billy melted, looking at him with glossy, puppy eyes. 

He cupped Steve’s face and pecked him, kissing his smile, then Steve pecked him back, and they finally kissed, finally biting each other's lips, with a stupid happy look on their faces. 

“So what will we do now?” Whispered Billy, taking Steve’s hand. Steve looked at him with a mischievous smile. 

“Well, my roommate is cool, you can come in my room later,” he grinned, and Billy laughed again. “But meanwhile, those little schemers don’t deserve satisfaction”.

Billy nodded. “Agree. Let’s make them suffer a little more. But first, kiss me again”.

Steve laughed, and threw his arms around him, bursting in happiness.

[kenaran]

Sometimes Surrender Is Another Word for Peace

Susan/Talia, Explicit, 2501 words Life is full of compromises. Sometimes even Susan can be made to see the need.

Talia is over for the third night in a row. Which isn’t generally considered the most shocking development once you start kissing someone and discover you like it, but Susan still surprises herself just a little every time she opens the door to let her in.

It took her so fucking long to get there. To even just notice Talia’s interest for what it so clearly was, not to mention act on it. But now that she’s finally made that step (which was really a halfway accidental stumble, if she’s being honest) she cannot bring herself to stop. The last guy she kissed was fucking scumbag Nate and the last woman? They never even tried to make it work after graduating from Earthforce Academy.

So yes, she’s starved. And so she keeps inviting Talia over. Keeps kissing her. Again. And again. And if she realizes that her enthusiasm might not actually, completely, irrefutably be fueled by kissing only, she takes care to shut down that train of thought the second it tries to make itself heard. She’s hardly a rookie when it comes to exercising this kind of mental discipline. She’s doing fine. Unless you count that one tiny, barely even noteworthy complication.

She wants more.

Continue Reading at AO3

[sachiko1309]

The good old Doc - Part 3

Missed the start? No problem, here is the first part, the following ones are always linked at the end, so you dont have to search endlessly. 😉

Summary: Lieutenant Lilith Adams enlisted back in the military, only to be met with a certain cocky pilot. Overcoming certain past traumas, she tries to fit in with the team of pilots as their personal medic. Soon finding her stuck between a certain good looking aviator and her work morals.

This is a series which is currently in the making, so I don’t exactly know how long it is going to be. 😊

Word count: 2501

Warnings: fluff, teasing, Hangman being slightly pushy and possessive

Pov Hangman:

There she was. My girl. Well not really my girl. I just wanted her to be my girl. The moment she sassed back at me, was the moment I fell. Hard. Hard enough to break the Hangman shell, I carefully created around Jake. But now she was dancing provocative in Bradleys arms, giving a show to everyone. I knew she did it to get under my skin, to see how I would react. The fact that Rooster seemingly picked up on her game, didn’t help to calm me down. It did quite the opposite. Seeing his hands roam around her body the way I wanted to, made me internally kill Rooster.

A hand on my shoulder forced me to turn my head. Something I did out of reflex. “She got you hooked already?” Coyote snickered looking to the dance floor. I let out a low grumble. “No, I just don’t want Rooster to win.”

My statement had Coyote laughing. “Sure buddy. You are mad jealous. Something I have never seen in you over the last years we know each other. But if you want her, you have to step up. She seems like an easy girl, but I have a feeling she is one to settle down.” His words were honest and caring, something I was thankful for. “I know. Its just… I don’t deserve her. She is this good innocent sweet girl. And what am I? A man whore.”

Phoenix stepped next to us. Beer in hand. “Bullshit, Bagman. I know you can be a total ass, but you are at least honest. You don’t play the women you take home. Its always clear what you want. And on the missions, I trust you with my life. Stop selling yourself under your worth.” I tilted my head, cockily smiling down at the darkhaired woman. “Such words coming from my enemy number one.” Totally unaffected by my statement, she shrugged. “I know something you don’t. But I tell you so much. Shoot your shot. The worst that can happen is Admiral Simpson on your ass.”

“That’s totally a worse thing that could happen.” Coyote mustered. “He might be older than we are, but have you seen this man? I am sure he throws a bad right hook… Besides do you really wanna risk her ass by thinking with you dick?”

Looking at Lilith dance, I though about my answer. “I am not thinking with my dick and I am also not risking her reputation. She deserves someone better than me.”

Pov Lilith:

My head was dizzy. A thin layer of sweat covering me and Rooster. He had both of his hand on my hips, head hidden in my neck, giving the impression of kissing me. “Why do you want Hangman to go nuts on me?” He asked, a smirk lacing his voice.

“I don’t know. He just… He provokes me.” I answered, eyes glued to said blonde pilot.

“How much do you want him to go nuts?” Rooster smirked, now watching Hangman as well. Turning my head, I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Not answering Rooster tilted my head further. “I am going to kiss you now, okay?” I was too perplex to do anything else than nod. Immediately his lips were on mine, turning my body around he pulled me closer. Possessively grabbing my waist with one hand, while putting the other on my throat. Instinctively I closed my eyes. He was a good kisser. One I would not mind to do it again on a non-expecting basis. But it didn’t give me sparks. No feelings. Nothing. His mustache was tickling my upper lip, while his hands caressed my body softly. Ending the kiss he smiled, looking behind me. “He is coming over. Good luck.”

But Rooster didn’t move he was still holding me, swaying me rhythmically to the music. Another tall body was pressing against my back, forcefully ripping Roosters hand of my hips. “Hangman.” Rooster greeted, still smiling wickedly. Saluting mockingly, he moved away, not without winking at me. I turned around in Jakes hands. “What the fuck was that dude?”

“Says the one having half a soft porn in the middle of the dance floor.” He growled; eyes blown black with anger. “Excuse me? I can dance with who I want.” I retorted, voice pitching higher than expected, making my angry statement seem rather timid.

“No.”

“No?” I raised an eyebrow, trying to step back, but his grip was hard. Unmoving.

“Not when I am here.” Jake snarled; his jaw clenched angrily. I sighted: “And in what world are you going to decide what I do? I cant remember you being my dad.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Because you belong to me. You are mine.” He whispered with a strained voice. That statement made me giggle uncontrollably. Okay, the alcohol wasn’t helping me to stay serious either, but I couldn’t help it. “I belong to nobody. Above all not someone I don’t know and who has a reputation to go through ladies like a hot knife through butter.” I was finally able to pluck his hands from my body. “You don’t get to decide for me and keep me as your sweet little plaything you can come back to whenever you like.”

“That’s what you think I am?” His voice was quiet, barely audible through the noise of the bar. But I could hear his hurt. Looking up at him I stopped. “It is what you make everyone think. I have known you for a few hours and yet Phoenix and Simpson already warned me to not get caught up with you. What else am I supposed to think? I believe you are good at what you do, otherwise you wouldn’t be at top gun. But you also know what you are capable of and what your looks do to women. I just don’t want to be known as your buckle bunny.”

“And what if I prove my honesty to you?” He asked, reaching out for me. I was stunned by his softness, something I didn’t think he would openly show to anyone. Shaking my head I mumbled. “Its not that what I solely worry about. Women have it hard enough in the army, I cant afford my reputation to be ruined by hooking up with a colleague, rules aside. Even if you mean it, the base will talk, no one will take me seriously anymore.”

Him turning his head to the side, and closing his eyes I knew he understood. Letting go of my waist he stepped back. “Okay. I wont push you anymore.”

Painfully aware I might have just ruined a good playful friendship I put my hand on his cheek. “Does that mean I lose you as a friend? I kinda would miss the teasing.” Wearing a sheepish smile, I tried to look cute. It had the wanted effect of making him laugh. “You wont lose anything, darlin. I can take a no. Even though receiving it from a beautiful woman like you does take a crack on my ego.”

“Well, in that case I am glad I could give you a little ego check, Bagman.”

The evening went on, as if nothing had happened. Hangman was his usual playful self and after our talk I didn’t correct him having his arm slung around my shoulder. Believing he got the message, I let myself drown in his warm, strong body. Letting him be close over a longer time made me realize how good he smelled. Even though I knew he showered before coming to the hard deck a little hint of jet fuel and motor oil was sticking to him, mixing perfectly with his perfume. A little sweetness, I couldn’t quiet identify, loosening up the bergamot and musk of it. Having just the right balance between masculinity and freshness of a summer breeze.

From the side I could feel Phoenix burning a hole in my head, so when I finished the beer, I had gotten I signaled her to follow me to the bar. She got the hint and was at my side instantly. “Whats going on between you and Bagman?” She asked, squinting her eyes. Switching the beer with a new one from Penny, I sat down on one empty bar chair. “Nothing, Phoenix. I told him to back off. We are friends now.”

“You don’t look like friends.” She retorted. “I mean he has never hugged a person as long as he is you. And he seems effortless when you are around, softer even. You sure he got the message? Sometimes you have to hit him right in the face with things.”

“I did, Phoenix. I told him, that I don’t hook up with colleagues, because I am a woman in the army. He understood and accepted it. Nothing to worry about.” I answered, taking a sip from my beer. Phoenix changed hers to a new one as well. “I do not worry. Just disappointed I don’t get dirty details about Hangmans sex life.” Nudging me with a wide grin, she started to walk back.

“You are such a filthy woman…” I mumbled, following her. She hooked an arm around me, pushing me down like we were wrestling. “Don’t you dare call me filthy, when you are literally walking around like a hoe.” The last sentence was definitely heard by the group, based on the way they looked at us. I broke free from her grip, laughing: “Well, the quirks of being single. No one to decide what I wear, or act jealous about it. You should try it. Ahhh… I forgot you were taken and you like to brag with being an aviator.”

Flipping me off, she grinned at me. “Fuck you, Wifey.”

I threw her a kiss. “Always welcome to join me, Natty.”

“She gets to fuck you, while I get told off?” Hangman made a show of being stabbed in the chest, falling to his knees in front of me. Patting his head, I answered cockily: “Yeah. Unlike you, she is fricking hot.”

“Am I at least allowed to watch?” He grinned, getting up from his knees. Behind me, Phoenix was making loud gagging sounds. “That’s disgusting.” Earning a lot of laughs in the group, I settled down next to Bob and Coyote. Leaning in, Coyote whispered: “Are you playing with him, or what is your mission?” I squinted my eyes. “Why you asking?”

Shrugging it off and watching the game between Rooster and Hangman, he answered: “Just checking in. Havent seen Hangman be this persistent and playful with a woman. He is either getting his way, or losing interest, so whatever you did to him, its working.”

“I didn’t do anything. Just denying being his buckle bunny.” I sighted. “Why is everyone so interested in Hangman an me? Are you guys running out of soap operas or what?” Bob leaned in, grinning sarcastically: “Usually watching Hangman hook up with woman is our soap opera. So, this…” He waved between Hangman and me “… is peak tension waiting for a big turning point being weaved in the story.”

“You guys are even worse than the marines I was deployed with last.” Shaking my head, I sunk back between the two men.

Phoenix had stopped drinking a while ago, preparing to drive us home, as soon as Penny would close the bar. She had retracted to the outside of the bar, half an hour ago, saying her girlfriend was calling her. Worrying something might be wrong I walked outside, searching for her. And indeed, I found her on the porch around the corner. Sniffling she wiped away tears. “What happened, Nixie?” I asked sitting down next to her.

“Nothing.” She waved it off, playing the strong woman she always did around the boys.

“This doesn’t look like nothing. Everything alright between and your girl?”

“Yes and no.” She answered leaning her head onto my shoulder. “Nancy is alright. We are alright. Its just… She got an offer to work out of town longer than expected and she really loves it there…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I told her to do it. Nancy is always so dedicated to her work. Its why I love her so hard. She works with orphans, or foster kids and it makes her so happy, if she finds them a forever home. She is doing it for four years, just a little longer than we are together. And usually there are enough cases for her to work in San Diego, but this time she got called to Los Angeles and it looks like she is going to stay there for another three months.” Phoenix answered a hurt smile on her lips. Wrapping my arms around her, I pulled her in for a hug. “Nancy seems like a sweet person. But three months are gone like that.” I snapped a finger. “You wont even notice. And remember you could be on deployment anytime for God knows how long.”

“Exactly.” She exhaled. “That’s why I am so happy for her to stay in one area. I have a place to come back to.”

“Try to look at it from her perspective. She is giving up a lot, being with you. The constant uncertainty of deployment. The possibility of you not coming back. I don’t know you two, but I guess you are working hard, if you managed to stay in a relationship this long. But you cant expect her to stop doing what she loves.” I comforted her, rubbing her arm.

“I am not. Its just… Why does it hurt so much being away from her? When I am on a mission, I don’t feel like this. At least not that strong.”

“Probably because its you being gone. You somewhat have the control whether you come back or not. And now you don’t. Being in the shoes of your partner, you feel what she is feeling and that’s is new for you. Maybe it will help, if you talk to her about it? Tell her how you feel and I believe you will work it out.” I smiled at her, averting my gaze to the stars moments later.

“Why are you so good at this?” Phoenix asked. I laughed. “I don’t know. Comes with the job, I guess. You know, caring for a patient does not purely mean tending to physical wounds. It also means to listen and give an advise, if wanted. And your problem is something I was faced with a lot. Most of the times it took several attempts of talking and offering, since the marines I worked with believed being strong means showing no weakness, but eventually they came around. So, whatever you need, I probably got it.”

“Thank you.” She yawned. “You callsign certainly has another perspective. You care for your team. Like a wife for her partner.” “Hmm, maybe you are right. But lets get you home, you look tired.” I grinned, helping her up from the porch.

TW! The next part contains PTSD, graphic description of death and injuries. DNI if you are under 18, or cant handle such topics. Thank you.

[fantrollology]

Pockets

Characters: Fledge, Arunae

Word Count: 1,153

Context: Arunae and Fledge are somewhat recent defects of the Alternian fleet. They currently reside on a neutral space station known as Parable.

---

Once a week Fledge returned to her bunk to find seven nights worth of uniform changes neatly set into the drawers. It was her job, then, to strip off the last of the week's clothes and send it down the chute to join the rest of her laundry.

This suited her; she didn’t have much of an eye for fashion, much less a convenient means of shopping for anything beyond what was provided (save for fleet-branded attire, which felt redundant) and so the limited wardrobe was well worth the convenience of having clothing washed and returned on a regular basis. It was arguable if the seclusion of living within the ships med-bay was also worth the trade, but debating this never particularly captured her thought.

The one piece of attire that wasn’t cycled out daily were the jackets. Though presumably thousands of nearly identical jackets existed across the fleets other psionic specialists, they were clearly differentiated by the embroidered patch displaying recruiting numbers. For her: 2501. The jackets were issued the same day she was assigned the number. She would wear a jacket for seven nights at a time before it was washed, and as such, she had two of them.

Well, two jackets made sense. It certainly wasn’t beyond the fleet’s resources to have more in circulation in case there was ever a lapse in schedule, or even to sew on a new patch each time if they so wished, but the infallible nature of the laundry made her doubt it was necessary.

Still, this she had thought about, and it bothered her. So, at one point she resolved to make a small tear in the right internal pocket of her jacket, and one in the left pocket of the other the following week. The damage was inconsequential enough not to warrant notice or repair, but enough for her to roll her thumb over and confirm it was hers. Surely enough, the next week, and the week after that, she would find that tear, oscillating back and forth between the pockets. It brought her a certain comfort she never analyzed further.

Only once was a jacket replaced. During a mission the left-torn jacket was stained a deep green, and the laundry apparently determined it unsalvageable, or perhaps simply not worth the effort to clean. The replacement was made without notice. After this, Fledge did not let another jacket become stained. She would wash out small imperfections in her bathroom to mitigate any doubt of its return.

The one she had brought with her had the tear in the right pocket. Fledge had accumulated a semblance of a wardrobe since her and Arunae’s arrival on Parable, and had learned to do her own laundry. There was something different about washing her own clothes, setting a temperature, a time, a cycle speed. Arunae would throw all her clothes in a single load, dump in a “looks like enough” amount of detergent, and slam the door shut. Fledge’s mind did not offer her this luxury. She would separate colors (admittedly her wardrobe was mostly “darks”) and obey each little tag’s every symbol. It was kind, she thought, of Arunae to never mention it.

This history ran through Fledge’s mind like she was a mother outside of a hospital ward. Two nights prior, Arunae laughed a little too hard and the potently dyed fruit-something drink she had been holding spilled over the front of Fledge’s jacket. She quickly offered to clean it amidst a flurry of apologies, already starting to peel it off Fledge’s shoulders. Fledge declined and wordlessly sped to their apartment to rinse it in the sink, to little avail. Arunae waited the hour with her while it made its solo-trip through the wash and mourned with Fledge when it came out still red. It was at that point Arunae suggested dry-cleaning. There was a small shop on Parable that had a solid reputation in treating flight-suits. At the moment the perky oliveblood manning the counter was retrieving the jacket from the back.

“So,” she approached the front with the plastic-wrapped jacket and raised it to pass it over the counter without touching the surface. “We were able to get that red stain out. We also found a little tear in one of the internal pockets and took care of that. No additional charge, of course.” 

“Oh, that’s awesome!” Arunae cooed. She received the jacket from the oliveblood and held it up to Fledge, smoothing her hand over the clear plastic.

“Aaaand…” the oliveblood continued, poking through some baskets beneath the counter. “We found this in one of the other pockets. Not sure what it is, but figured you might want it.” She popped up and held out a plastic bag containing a blackish, mint-tin sized object to Fledge.

Fledge’s eyes shot over from the jacket and she gently took the bag.

“What’s that?” Arunae craned over the shoulder of the jacket.

“I’m not sure,” Fledge lied. It didn’t feel good, but it was what she said.

Arunae shrugged and handed off the jacket to Fledge so she could pay. Fledge turned the object in her hand. Its presence seemed unbelievable. How many sweeps had it been in there?

She jolted a bit when Arunae threw an affectionate arm around her and gave her a squeeze. “Hey, how about that? Looks brand spankin’ new.” 

“Mhmm,” Fledge offered Arunae a little smile. She could undo the repair easily enough.

- - -

While Arunae showered, Fledge pulled her bag out from under her peracoon for the first time since they arrived on the station. She was trying not to get too stirred up; it wasn’t unlikely what she was looking for hadn’t made its way with them. She certainly didn’t remember packing it, though she knew it had at least followed her to her bunk within The Conquest’s ship. Fledge wasn’t one to throw things out, after all, merely leave things behind, and her bunks were often packed for her during transfers.

She dug through what was, as she suspected, mostly junk; every worthless item pumped lead into the little weight in her chest. The lump shot into her throat when she saw it: a bulky amateur radio grade walkie talkie, the same blackish color as the chunky battery she held now in her hand. She was perfectly capable of powering the device on her own, of course, but it did take away from its charm. She turned it over to inspect it; the silver ink of her name, her nickname, “Fledge” was still visible on the back in handwriting too nice to be hers. She slid the battery up the grooves of the back, and clicked it into place. It was a moment before she flipped the switch to power it on, and another before she pressed her thumb into the ‘transmit’ button to release the squelch. The electromagnetic hum it emitted climbed through her veins like a sunrise.

[salomeslashes]

It would also be helpful if you answered how frequently you like to see updates, and if there's a relationship between word count and update frequency for you. :)

[itsmemateinnit]

2023 fic summary

This year was a record year for me in terms of the amount of fics I posted, so I thought I'd do like last year and post a summary here :)

2023 Year of the OTP fics:

Title: Whenever I look at you... Summary: Snapshots of Chandler observing Kent through the years Word count: 2409

Title: The Roll of the Sea Summary: Despite merfolk being a folktale, Kent is convinced he saw one, and he becomes fixated on finding it again. Word count: 4928

Title: For Honour Summary: Kent is compelled to defend Chandler from his mean dinner partners. Word count: 3061

Title: A Budding Relationship Summary: Kent thinks he and Chandler have been on a date. Chandler doesn't. Word count: 2501

Title: For Dog's Sake Summary: An unplanned addition to the household puts a strain on Chandler and Kent's relationship. Word count: 5440

Title: April showers bring May flowers Summary: Chandler and Kent get stuck at a bus stop during a heavy downpour. Chandler let's something slip that he shouldn't have. Word count: 5516

Title: In the Middle of Nowhere With You Summary: Their car breaks down leaving Chandler and Kent stranded on an empty road surrounded by fields Word count: 3038

Title: The Time We Never Had Summary: "He hadn’t even left yet, and Kent hungered for more company. He hadn’t realised how starved for human connection he’d been until this very moment where the stories of people trapping someone for company suddenly made sense to him." Word count: 8513

Title: Take Care Summary: Kent takes charge so Chandler doesn't work himself to death. The team helps. Word count: 2445

Title: An Ace Epiphany Summary: Miles can no longer look at Chandler giving Kent hearteyes, but when he confronts him about it, it leads to Chandler discovering something about himself. Word count: 3210

Title: Harmonious Summary: Chandler joins the band as their new manager Word count: 10946

Title: Squire's Quest Summary: Kent goes on a daring quest to rescue sir Chandler from the arch devil Iver Word count: 8202 (A choose your own adventure inspired by the fighting fantasy books)

Other fics I wrote throughout the year:

Title: Here's a Health to the Company Summary: Joe finally gets to meet Emerson's best friends from uni. Word count: 8192

Title: Break Summary: Kent gets abducted and the team has 5 days to find him before it's too late. Word count: 7810 (A remake of my first Whitechapel fic)

Title: Guardian Angels Summary: Kent is captured by the Krays as revenge for Jimmy's "boy" disappearing Word count: 4861 (First fic I've written as part of a gift exchange)

[druidx]

A Year of Writing - 2023 Writing Wrap-up

➼ Quick Stats

Total words Written in 2023: 75,022

Average Words/Work (published): 2501

Started in 2023: 24 works

Finished in 2023 (started anytime): 22 works

Published in 2023 (started anytime): 22 works

Number of Works still in Progress (started anytime): 77

Mostly wrote in: February (8 works edited, 5 published)

Longest work completed or added to in 2023: The Ruby Falls (179,282)

Shortest work completed or added to in 2023: It's Fashion, Boss (357)

Top Genres: Sci-Fi (13 - just pinching out Fantasy at 12)

Top WIP(s): The Ruby Falls and Young Dagger, False Dream (previously named Alexis Dalliance vs the Evil of Titan)

Top OC(s): Aderyn, Mio (10 fics each)

Below the cut: Review of 2023's Plans, Work I'm proud of, Work that shows I'm still learning, Breakdown of 2023, Plans for 2024, ICYMI

➼ What were my writing plans for 2023?

❌ Post The Ruby Falls Nope. I'm closer, but still no cigar. I've edited 1.75 sections, bringing the total complete-&-almost-ready-to-post sections to 5/15.

✅ Finish stuff Yes! I completed 7 works this year which were started before 2023, the oldest of which was Tales of the Starbound - The Old-Timer's Tale from 2015.

❌ Post more 'For Posterity' items Nope. Forgot + no time + burn out/ no energy

❌ Study Romance? Nope. Forgot this was a goal TBH

❌ Read more Nope. Last year I read 10 books, this year I've only read 5 (not counting fanfics). I did try, but yeah. (My Storygraph if you're interested)

✅ IDK, everything beyond The Ruby Falls is flexible currently. Technically, this one is complete! 😅️

➼ Work I'm most proud of

Home That Our Feet May Leave, But Not Our Hearts (Starbound) This was an experiment in writing a time loop, and also changing tenses through a story. It may not have been 100% perfect, but I feel like I learnt a lot writing it and I'm really happy how it came out.

Greetings After a Long Departure (TESIV:Oblivion) I thought long and hard about how it must feel to touch the statue and gain the Blessing of Akatosh, and I'm pleased that the description really came off as well as it did.

➼ Work that shows I'm still learning

I think maybe I'm stuck in the 'taste vs ability' trough. Aside from the two above, and maybe Two Foxes (TESIV:Oblivion), I feel like there's been some je ne sais quoi missing from my writing this year. I joined Writeblr to learn and grow as a writer, so if anyone has any tips or ConCrit I'd love to hear it. I really don't want to plateau again.

➼ Breakdown of 2023

I traveled a lot this year. Denmark, Albania, Scotland, Denmark again, and off again to Denmark for Christmas. It's for sure been inspiring, but it's also been exhausting and hasn't left me much brain-space for writing. Not to mention that 2nd day of holiday in Scotland I got "bitten by a Haggis", and spent the next 3 months healing a hole in my shin, and I'm still recovering from that. With all the traveling, maybe this year should have been a 'feed the well' year instead of struggling to finish works I didn't have the energy for. Ah well.

That said, I did quite well with my PodFic project. 50 Fics were recorded and ~80 still remain.

➼ What are my writing plans for 2024?

IDK. The future is a foreign country (to paraphrase L. P. Hartley).

Continue hacking away at The Ruby Falls and whatever else catches my fancy.

Eat more red meat/ protein. Can't write if your brain doesn't function.

Figure out what je ne sais quoi missing from my writing.

Pick up abandoned projects. To whit, 'For Posterity' items and Podfics.

➼ In Case You Missed It

Starbound

Tales of the Starbound - The Old-Timer's Tale - 1,616 words. A day in the life of Quihui & contemplation of Caseswing's building regime. Tumblr or AO3

Home That Our Feet May Leave, But Not Our Hearts - 3,212. Mio, the Last Protector, attends her graduation. The only problem? Earth no longer exists. Tumblr or AO3

You Never Forget Your First - 712. In the dead of night, Kata finds her Captain alone on the bridge, singing a mournful tune... Tumblr or AO3

Crasberry Saviour - 761. During a trip to buy ship parts, Yuudai reveals how she lost her leg. Tumblr or AO3

An Ancient Vault - 389. Mio falls down a hole and discovers an Ancient vault. Tumblr

Look Back, by Looking Forwards - 1,653. Mio helps one of her crew celebrate a religious event. Tumblr or AO3

Aurorabee - 406. Mio goes clothes shopping with her mother. Tumblr or AO3

Original Works

Mouth of Silver - 781. A courier comes across some unsavory creatures while making his way through the woods. Tumblr

A Cryptid Files Short - 404. A hedge witch provides potions of safety. Tumblr

TESIV: Oblivion - Vanilla

Greetings After a Long Departure - 1,014. Rowan gets a sweet surprise when xe finally returns to the Temple of the One. Tumblr or AO3

Two Foxes - 500. The new Grey Fox goes a-visiting to Castle Anvil for some advice. Tumblr or AO3

A Light in the Darkness - 619. Travelogue writer Arkved of Cheydinhal describes another local Cyrodilic festival. Tumblr or AO3

TESIV: Oblivion - Modern AU

It's Fashion, Boss - 357. Aderyn arrives to an event in a snit with the Grey Fox over his time management skills; he teases her about her fashion sense. Tumblr or AO3

A Little Something-Something - 1,459. Aderyn brings Jena to a GFS charity 'meeting'. Tumblr or AO3

A Floral Surprise - 728. On the morning of Martin & Baurus' Anniversary, Aderyn and Belisarius lay out flowers and gifts, conscripted by their respective friends. Tumblr or AO3

Night Exercises - 2,407. Fortis runs a training exercise for Aderyn at night. Tumblr or AO3

Get up - 1,016. Martin and Baurus sneak away from a gala event, only for a detonation to rock their world… Tumblr or AO3

Self Indulgent AU - 18,102. HoK is adamant she knows who her parents are. The Mythic Dawn thinks differently. Who is right? Tumblr or AO3

[duck-in-a-spaceship]

The Post Break-Up Box of Shame

WOO chapter two babey. This is it for this one, there's not gonna be a chapter three, but I might tack on some extra scenes! Tell me if there's anything else you want to see with this concept!!

Summary: Crowley's car is throwing fit, and the lesbians are here to save the day. As if he's going to let them.

Word Count: 2501

<<Previous

+++

Chapter 2: Some Bloody Conspiring

“Oh my, we were wondering if you two would be back,” Maggie was approaching him fairly rapidly, and Crowley made it his mission to approach the Bentley rapidly-er. “What on earth happened? Are you alright?”

“Oh yeah, just peachy.” The door of the Bentley, which usually swung right open on his arrival, was suddenly stuck. “Come on you little- oh here, take this.” Crowley shoved the box of plants at her, and Maggie struggled to grab onto them in time, lurching forwards slightly to take hold.

“Careful!” she insisted, adjusting her grip on the plants so they didn’t fall.

“Right, yep, sorry about that. Would you stop throwing a fit?”

“Excuse me! I’m-”

“Oh not you,” Crowley told her, waving a hand dismissively. “This blasted door won’t open. Although, while you’re here, we should have a little chat- aha!” The door to the Bentley suddenly popped open, and Crowley cheerfully swung it aside.

“Yes, I wanted to talk to you too, actually.” Maggie offered out the plants to him, and Crowley took them, shoving them in the backseat.

“Right, right. Yeah, Muriel, the new angel at the bookshop? They’ve got no clue what they’re doing, quite frankly, when it comes to human things, so you really don’t have to worry about rent. She tried to get me to take it to Aziraphale, but obviously he doesn’t need it either-”

“Yes, Aziraphale, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“-so you can just hang on to it,” Crowley continued, completely ignoring her attempted interjection. He shut the door of the Bentley. “In fact you could probably go get what you already gave her, just tell her I said it was alright or something, tell them it’s some sort of human thing.”

“Crowley, I’m not really worried about the rent. I mean, thank you and all but… well but really I just wanted to talk to you?”

He reached out past her to open the door of the Bentley, which would preferably be followed by the steps of getting in the driver’s seat and speeding away. Ideally with some Queen playing, not any of that loverboy nonsense, but some good old Bohemian, or a ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’ for the road. All of this was prevented by the fact that the door would. Not. Budge.

“Why?” he asked her sharply, tugging on the handle. “Have some more winning advice to give?”

Maggie winced, looking at Crowley pitifully as he continued to struggle with his car. “I’m guessing it didn’t go well then?”

“No.”

“Well… well what happened? Maybe it’s not all a lost cause, you know?”

Crowley scoffed, gave up on the handle to turn and face her. “Not a lost cause, right. Hey, just wondering, have you seen him at that bookshop lately? Or anywhere, really? Nah, right? Seems lost to me.” He rapped on the window. “Do you at least want to open this, or are you going to continue to be difficult?”

He mostly expected the Bentley to stay quiet, maybe a small part expected the window to indeed roll down. What Crowley was not expecting was for slow, soft classical music to start playing from the speakers. “Oh for fuck’s sake!”

“Hey!” some passerby shouted.

“Yeah, hey to you!” Crowley shouted back, looking up to see Nina crossing the street towards him. Maggie waved. He groaned. “Hello Nina, do you have anything large and heavy I could use to break-”

“No! I’m not going to help you throw your little tantrum out here.”

“Oh alright. Oh- great, thank you for that.” Crowley walked away, heading to try the trunk of the Bentley, which Maggie and Nina used as an opportunity to conspire.

“What’s gotten into him?” Crowley heard Nina ask, not at all quietly.

“Well,” Maggie started, at the very least trying to whisper. “He said it didn’t go well, when he tried to talk to Aziraphale.”

“Oo, what happened then?”

“I don’t know, he won’t say anything else about it.”

“Well, I suppose there’s nothing we can do then, hm?”

“Oh Nina, we can’t just ignore him. I know you know how rough heartbreak is, we should help him out.”

Crowley muttered a string of curse words at the Bentley, turning to whatever languages he fancied after he ran out of English ones. Nina sighed loudly enough for him to hear, and probably for all of heaven to hear as well.

“Crowley!” she shouted.

“What?” he demanded. The Bentley was still, no matter how hard he tried, refusing to let him in.

“You want to come inside and have something to drink?”

“Nah, I’m good. Was just heading out, really.”

Maggie leaned to look over at him. “Seems like it’s still jammed. Maybe you should call someone, and come inside while you wait,” she offered.

Crowley sighed, leaning against the Bentley, fingers tapping against the side of the car. “You,” he muttered to it. “You are going to have to pay for this later, you understand?” The classical music fell on a slow decrescendo until it stopped completely. Crowley tried the door again. No luck. “Yeah,” he called over to Nina and Maggie. “Yeah, alright, lead the damned way.”

===

Crowley stared at the ceiling of the record shop, eyes scanning over the various posters pasted there. His fingers were loosely curled around a mug of coffee and bourbon (although it could really be more accurately described the other way around) where his hand was splayed on the rug next to him. It was a nice rug, really, good and soft, so long as you ignored the headache-inducing waves of color and design.

“Well… I think that was awfully brave of you,” Maggie finally spoke up, finishing the silence that followed his sad little tale.

“Yeah, real brave,” Crowley agreed sarcastically. “Not brave enough though, was it? Cuz he still ran off to heaven.” He dragged a hand down his face and let it muffle his speech. “Couldn’t seem to get away fast enough.”

Another silence, during which he didn’t bother to look over and see what Maggie and Nina were doing. Probably more bloody conspiring. He understood their frustrations now, with all the poking around in their love like (necessary as it was). Now that the roles were all flipped, he’d very much just like to be left alone.

“Well, maybe he just needs some time. I mean, Maggie and I are still figuring things out, taking things nice and slow, because I just ended things with my old partner. Maybe after all of your heaven and hell nonsense, he just needs a bit of a break.”

“Then he would’ve taken a little break instead of running off to be the archangel of heaven.”

“I know but-” Maggie tried to intervene, but Crowley had actually decided he had more to say on that matter, unfortunately enough.

“Heaven!” he exclaimed, sitting up suddenly, bringing the mug with him as he stood, half-full contents sloshing around. “I know he’s always had a soft spot for the bastards, but I thought we were moving on from the heaven = good, hell = bad nonsense. They’re all homicidal idiots, you know?”

Crowley spun around to face Nina and Maggie, unfortunately spilling a bit of his drink onto the aforementioned carpet. Ah well, probably no one would notice. They were both staring at him with blank confusion.

“Alright,” Maggie started, with enough forced optimism Crowley could tell she really had to hype herself up for this conversation. “Alright, we might not know much about heaven and hell and archangels and what all that entails, at least not as much as we might have thought, but we do know at least a little bit about relationships and you two need to talk.”

Nina nodded sharply. “Can’t solve anything if you aren’t on the same page. Or the same planet for that matter. Not entirely sure where heaven is, but I’m pretty sure it’s not here.”

“It’s not,” Crowley confirmed, leaning back on one of the record shelves. “Don’t worry,” he added glumly.

“Right, well since you seem to know where it is-”

“I’m a demon!” Crowley interrupted, spreading his arms out with dramatic flourish. More of his drink splashed onto the carpet below, which earned him a glare from both Niana and Maggie, so he waved a hand to miracle it away. “I can’t just go waltzing up to heaven just because I fancy a little chat with my mates, now can I?”

(Crowley, of course, very much could do this. He’d proved as much when he put on a very nice outfit, commandeered an angel turned police officer, and poked around in all their stuff. However, he was hoping Nina and Maggie would sort of just take his word on it, because he was really trying to drop this particular conversation topic.)

“Well I don’t know!” Nina exclaimed, and Crowley got the sense that they were getting a bit fed up with all this angel-demon nonsense. He’d drink to that– he was getting pretty fed up with it himself. “I don’t know if you can, I’m not particularly sure what an archangel is, or who this metatron fellow is, or what exactly happened at the meeting, or what has even been going on. I have no goddamn clue. But what I do know is that you and Aziraphale are clearly head over heels for each other, practically married, and you need to get up off your asses and do something about it.”

Crowley took a sip from his cup, drained the whole thing actually, and then placed it on one of the shelves, carefully balanced. He’d been gearing himself up for a good shout, because if Nina got one, then he felt like he’d more than earned it. Unfortunately, standing on that ugly, but very comfortable carpet, leaning against shelves packed tight with unsold records, looking over at the two of them, Crowley found he wasn’t feeling very shout-y. Just plain wasn’t in the mood for it, much as he’d like to be.

“I think it’s a bit too late for that.”

Apparently no one had anything else they wanted to add.

Crowley tapped his shoe on the floor, wondered if the Bentley would be out of its mood if he decided now would be the time to drive away. He really just wanted to take a long, long nap.

“So, um, what are you going to do now?”

That was a good question, sadly enough. Crowley was getting tired of good questions; he wanted some real shitty ones. Muriel was good at asking shitty questions, maybe he should go talk to them again.

Instead he pulled his glasses off, rubbed his hand across his forehead, and looked up to the ceiling. “Dunno,” he said. “Sort of had a plan there with- we were the plan, you know? We were always the plan. For the last couple of millennia, we had our own side. And then if there was nothing else to do, hell usually kept me busy enough. Now there’s just a whole bunch of bloody nothing.”

Crowley decided then and there that he didn’t care if the Bentley was ready for him, he just needed to get out of that record shop. He shoved his glasses back on. “Then again, I’ll figure it out, don’t really have much of a choice I suppose.” Crowley headed for the door, turning his back on them as soon as he could. They started conspiring immediately, he could tell, but they were getting good enough at it that he had no clue what they actually said.

“Crowley, wait!” Maggie called, just as his hand was on the door. Gah, so close.

“What?” he demanded, or well, half a demand, half a whine, as he turned around.

“Well, I was just thinking, since Aziraphale is, um, taking a little break from Earth right now, and Muriel doesn’t really know what they’re doing, maybe you should help run the bookshop.”

Crowley snorted. “Yeah, for sure. Real bookshop-ist, I am. Now, I’ve really got to get going, you know. Plants to water, ducks to feed-”

“Oh come on now,” Nina interrupted. She crossed her arms, just to prove some point. Crowley wasn’t really sure what it was, but he was pretty sure it was working anyway. “I’m sure you know all the little particularities Aziraphale had about the place. And someone has to make sure no one actually sells the books, right?”

Crowley considered that for a moment. Sure, he’d already told Muriel that she wasn’t actually operating the kind of bookshop that sold things, but that could only go so far. And he hadn’t even gotten around to mentioning the organization system, or how you had to treat books so you didn’t mess them all up, or what was off-limits and what wasn’t, and someone was going to need to replace the fire extinguishers every so often.

“Yeah, alright, I’ll think on it,” Crowley said, trying to convey in tone how much he was not going to think on it. (He was absolutely going to think on it.) “But if that’s all…” he trailed off, giving either of them the chance to interrupt. “Great, see ya around, thanks for the drinks.”

They both waved as he finally opened the door, each calling after him with their own goodbyes.

“Drive safe!”

“Stop by sometime.”

And as the door swung shut, Crowley looked over his shoulder to see they were already, indeed, conspiring.

===

The Bentley sat waiting for Crowley when he got back, and the door opened without a single threat, which was a welcome surprise. “Well, thank you, you dick,” he muttered softly. Crowley slid into the driver’s seat, and slammed it shut.

He just sat there for another moment. The plants were probably throwing a fit in the backseat, not at all happy to be back in the car after adjusting nicely to their cushy bookshop life. Crowley drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, stared out at the road, watched as the rain began to trickle down. It left misty drops on the windshield, like stars, like alpha centauri, like the pillars of creation, like all those galaxies, oh so long ago.

Crowley groaned, let his forehead slam into the steering wheel. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the glovebox pop open, and out spilled a wave of caramel candies. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, straightening back up. “I get it. I…” he sighed. “I miss him too, you sensitive old sot.” He sighed, dragged a hand down his face. “Alright, come on.”

The bell over the door rang out cheerfully, announcing Crowley’s entrance into the bookshop. Unsurprisingly, not much had changed since he was last there. Muriel peaked out from behind a shelf, their two hats still wobbling precariously on their head. “Oh, hi Crowley!”

Crowley put down his box of plants, and looked over at them. “Muriel, great.” He cleared his throat, grinned at her. “I’d like to apply for a job.”

[ao3feed-mash]

Puppy Love

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/MRvVbr8

by arealboy

Easter, a special night at Father Mulcahy's apartment, and a Tom Mix knife all at once.

Words: 2501, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of toenail clippings and puppy dog tails

Fandoms: MASH (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Categories: M/M

Characters: Original Child Character(s), Father Francis Mulcahy

Relationships: Father Francis Mulcahy/Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Pedophilia, Grooming, Grinding, Anal Fingering, Oral Fixation, Dacryphilia, the Tom Mix knife, delusional rapist convinced it doesn't count if it's love, plus hero worshipping, Rape Culture, Out of Character, Priest Kink, altar boys, 1950s

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/MRvVbr8

[lorifragolina]

Everyone but you

Hello! Here you are the fourth entry for @harringrovesummerbingo! I watched one of those rom com with enemies to love and I tried to write something similar, it's a little silly but I couldn't stop thinking about Billy surfing in Australia while Steve watches him!

Title: Everyone but you

Square & Prompt: A2 "Pillow fight"

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2501

Major Tags: Friendly schemes, Enemies to Lovers

Summary:

Steve and Billy are roommates, but they didn't start with the right foot... even if they became attracted to each other pretty soon. But both of them think that the other didn't swing the same way... Two smart friends and a good scheme are needed for making them move... or not?

Read on Ao3

“Hey, you’re cutting the line!”

The distinguished man with the suit, who was really trying to cut the line in the crowded bar, raised his eyes from his phone and put on puppy eyes. 

“I’m sorry, but I really, really need to…”

“Go back to the line!”

“Please, sir…” whined the man, while the other people in line started to murmur.

“Oh, finally, here you are, angel!”

A blonde man reached him and grabbed him by the arm. 

“He is my husband,” he said to the fuming man in the line. “So, you want your usua, darling…?” The man waved a gesture to the bar.

“Oh, oh, yes… darling… A… a hazelnut coffee with a splash of cold milk,” he said in a low voice. “For Steve”.

The blonde guy laughed and repeated the order. 

“I’m sorry, I really, really need to pee,” Steve whispered to the man and, unthinkingly, he gave him his jacket and his phone.

“I’m an idiot,” he said to himself when it was already too late, in the bathroom. That stranger could easily run away with his jacket, where he had his wallet, and his phone. 

Luckily, when he came back from the toilet, the man was still there, and he could look at him getting closer. He wasn’t really tall but he had good, big shoulders like a swimmer, a narrow waist and a shirt open on his smooth chest. Hot, and quite his type, Steve blushed, while the other passed his hands in his blonde mullet.

“Billy and Steve!” announced the waiter just in that moment, and Billy smiled, handing out his things and his cup. 

“So your name is Billy,” said Steve while they walked away together.

Billy nodded, with his sparking blue eyes and the nuclear white teeth.

“Well, Billy, thanks for the coffee and for not stealing my things… I really needed the bathroom”.

“Oh, no problem, I saw you were quite in trouble”.

“Yes… I decided to walk home today but I drank a lot of water lately, you know… for the bloating…” Steve blushed again, trying to hold his tongue.

Billy laughed again, and his laugh was warm and kind. “It doesn’t seem you need it, anyway,” he said charmingly.

“What… what?”

“For the bloating, I mean. You seem pretty in shape to me”.

Steve bit his tongue again trying to avoid saying another stupid thing.

“Well, thanks,” he said again, drinking his coffee. 

Billy shrugged. 

“I must go now…” Steve threw away his cup after a moment of silence.

Billy inflated his chest and narrowed his eyes and Steve could see sparkles in them. Billy put on an irresistible smile and Steve stiffened a little.

“Well, I was walking home too. I bet we’re going in the same direction. And there is a pretty good bakery just in our direction…” he smiled.

“Oh”, Steve didn’t smile. He became pretty serious. “Oh, wow, I see. Do you think that just for being kind with me I have to follow you home, right? Oh, no, I know people like you!”

“People like me? I just invited you to a pastry…”

“Oh no, don’t play the handsome with me. You are all the same! I’m not selling so cheap”.

He found some coins in his pocket and smashed them on the table, then rushed away.

Billy standed a moment, dazed, trying to understand what had just happened.

For Christ’s sake, I hope this plane takes off soon, Steve grumbled, waggling in his seat. He had a central seat and he was already bothered. 

He could hear a little commotion between the fight attendants at the entrance of the plane when a handsome, pretty guy entered with a bright smile.

Billy.

Fuck fuck fuck, thought Steve while Billy took the seat just two rows ahead. He put his luggage in the overhead locker and their eyes crossed.

“Oh, hi,” said Billy sharply.

“Hello.” Steve didn’t smile and didn’t look at him directly. 

“So you’re going to Sydney too”.

“Apparently”.

“What a coincidence that we met on this flight, no?”

Steve pursed his lips. Billy was using a plain tone but he decided to be haughty.

“There are not a lot of flights to Sydney I fear,” he said in a mocking tone. Billy felt annoyed and he shrugged, getting to his seat.

Steve moved suddenly and dropped his headphones, and the nice lady at his right picked them up for him.

“Oh, be careful, madam, he could think that you are flirting with him,” Billy snapped, copying Steve’s mocking tone.

The lady looked puzzled and Steve blushed furiously.

“Oh and you already asked all the kind attendants out or will you wait being at thirty thousand feet?”

“Not all of us are desperate because you’re desperate,” answered Billy, harshly. “Look out, madam, or he will push you away too”.

He turned his back and sat down.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Steve to the confused lady, mortified, trying to melt with his seat and endure an embarrassing 16 hours long flight.

Steve waited for Billy to take his things and go away before standing up and getting off the plane. He walked to the exit trying to avoid him in the passport code but he saw him with the corner of his eyes, waiting in the hall where the drivers were searching for their passenger. Luckily, he found his car and Steve too found his own; he followed his driver in the warm summer night of Sydney, breathing freely and thinking they will never meet again.

“You again!” they yelled at the same time when they landed side by side at the reception of the hotel.

“Please don’t fucking kidding me, are you following me or what?” Steve barked, smashing his reservation on the counter. “You peeped my papers when I fell asleep, confess!”.

“Of course not, not everything turns around your ass,” Billy bit his lips before saying an insult. “I’m staying here”.

“I stay here too”.

“For the…”

“The Surf World Cup?” They said in unison.

“Shit,” murmured Steve.

“Don’t tell me you’re competing,” giggled Billy, maybe a little sarcastic.

Steve was tempted to answer in the same tone, but looking at Billy he could totally say he did surf.

“I guess you compete,” he said instead, lowering his eyes.

Billy laughed. “Only in charity events”.

At that moment, the employee of the hotel returned to the counter.

“Hello, Mr Harrington,” she said, looking at his reservation. “As I was saying to Mr Hargrove, unfortunately there has been a misunderstanding with the reservations and the hotel happens to be overbooked…”

“What?” gasped Steve, looking confused at Billy.

“But don’t you worry,” continued the employee, “We already arranged an alternative arrangement for both of you, and we already contacted your organizations to explain, while you were flying”.

Steve took his phone:  he forgot to turn it on again and suddenly he began to receive messages from the travel agency. He sighed and put it away again.

“We will accommodate you in a rented house near the competition place, at our expenses, obviously. I’m sorry you will have to share some spaces, but the beach house has a beautiful view and awesome facilities,” the girl lended them some brochures. The house didn’t seem that bad, and Steve at that point wanted just to lay down and rest. 

Billy didn’t seem bothered when the girl offered them the same car to go to the house. Steve sat down with a large breath, taking his head into his hands.

“Something wrong, pretty boy?” Mocked Billy.

“Please, don’t… no. It’s just…” he sighed again, too tired to argue.

Billy stayed silent for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah. I want this endless day to finish too,” he rested his head on the other side of the car and closed his eyes.

They met again at breakfast the next morning. Obviously, Billy was already dunking in the local fashion, with a linen towel around his waist, necklaces and trinkets and the bare tanned chest in plain sight.

“Morning,” mumbled Steve, searching for a coffee. 

Billy prepared a cup for him at the counter. “Here. With a splash of hazelnut”, he smiled, and Steve didn’t hear any sarcasm in his voice.

“Well, thanks,” he tried to stay reserved nonetheless.

Billy sighed. “Well, I know we maye started on the wrong foot. I am sorry to make fun of you on the plane”.

“Ok”.

“And?”

“And what?”

“I don’t know, it was you that ran away when we were having a nice conversation”.

“Well you tried to hit on me!”

“No I didn’t…” Billy started to raise his voice, but stopped immediately. “Ok, never mind, just try to start again, ok? We have to share the pool and apparently we’re going to the same events. What are you doing here if you don’t surf?”

Stede bit his lips and tried to bury the hatchet. 

His society was one of the sponsors of the Championship and he was there to coordinate the events with the Australian partners. It turned out that they were pretty well organized even without him and he didn’t have basically nothing to do but sunbathing, swimming in the pool and enjoying some free time.

And it came out that Billy was a quite famous model, but he hadn’t idea of it, and he was a pretty good surfer too; he joined some side competition raising money for charity and did some shoots for the sponsors.

Steve ended following him around, and he found out that Billy was really kind, absolutely not cocky and really, fucking hot. 

“You know, you were right,” said Steve one night, while they were drinking their last cocktail before going to bed, a habit they shared since the first day when Steve was sitting alone at the poolside and Billy found him and offered him a margarita.

“About what?”

“About me… I had to apologize to you the first day. I mean… I was rude”.

“Don’t worry. No hard feelings”.

“How do you do this?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, I mean… being so kind. I mean, I yelled at you the minute after you helped me…”

Billy shrugged. “I don’t know. I just prefer to be at peace, I don’t know how to explain…”

Steve nodded.

“But I want to reaffirm,” continued Billy, “I didn’t want to hit on you, I mean, I thought you were pretty… I think you are pretty…” he whispered sweetly, looking Steve in the eyes. The air was soft and scented and the crickets were singing.

Billy sticked out from his beach chair to Steve, blinking a little. He gently grabbed Steve’s face, pulling him through his face, and closed his eyes. 

Steve lingered a moment in the touch. He closed his eyes too, taking a large breath, but…

He flinched abruptly, turning his face away and leaning on the chair. 

He felt he wanted to cry; he stood suddenly and collected his glass.

“It’s better if I go”.

“Wait, Steve… I’m sorry… I was wrong reading the room?”

Steve sighed. “No… Yes… I don’t know… Look, I’m not that kind of person… I’m not like… people like you”.

“People like me?” Billy stood too and reached him, taking his hand. “Come on, Steve. I’m sorry if I bothered you. Somebody hurted you very badly, right?”

“I have to go now, I’m sorry”.

Steve ran away from the pool and closed the door of his bedroom behind, throwing himself on the bed, panting. 

Fuck, he thought. He felt like an idiot. Billy was hot, and apparently kind, and he was almost on vacation, on the other side of the world, it was summer in November. What should he ask more of?

And yet he was alone and locked in his room, trying not to cry and feeling like a real idiot without a real reason.

He avoided Billy, the pool, the beach and the competition for the following couple of days. Everything was settled for the sponsor so he used the time doing long walks inland and visiting the city alone. 

He crossed Billy while he was leaving the shower and he blushed.

“Hey”.

“Hey,” Steve just nodded and he hurried to his room. After a while, Billy knocked.

“Hey, it’s all ok?”

Steve didn’t answer, sat in the bed with the bathrobe still on.

“Hey, Steve, can we talk? Can I come in?”

Steve jumped on his feet and grabbed a pair of shorts and a shirt.

“Ok,” he answered once dressed.

“Are you avoiding me?” asked Billy with sad eyes.

“No, but… I needed to be alone for a while”.

“Is it the truth?”

“Look, Billy, I had nothing against you, but people like you…”

Billy snapped. “People like me? You keep saying it but what the hell does it mean? I did nothing to you, I just tried to be friendly and honestly, I like you… but I can’t be responsible for people I don’t know, so, sorry, I'm going now”.

Billy took the knob in his hand.

“No, stop, Billy, ok, I’m sorry too. I know you don’t have any fault but… well…”

Steve sat in the bed and Billy sat at his side, listening to him. Steve told him about his last girlfriend, who duped him and then cheated on him, and left him by message and disappeared completely… he had been really in love and he was heartbroken.

“And she was… she was like you…” Billy raised an eyebrow. “Beautiful, charming, successful… really out of my league. And she left me…”

“Well you’re pretty and successful too, Steve. You need a really good dose of confidence… you weren’t out of her league, she was out of yours”.

“You don’t know how it is… I wasn’t… enough…”

“She was stupid,” whispered Billy, moving closer by surprise and pressing a little peck on Steve’s lips. “You need to believe more in yourself…” Billy leaned for another kiss.

“How dare you take advantage of me in a moment like this!” yelled Steve, and Billy blinked, confused, and couldn't avoid the first pillow in his face, which hit him  unaware and made him fall on the bed.

“Are you nuts?” he screamed, while Steve jumped on his foot and kept hitting him with the pillow. “You will pay for this!”

Billy grabbed the other pillow and chased Steve around all the room, smashing the pillows as much as possible in his face when he could corner him. 

Steve laughed loudly jumping on the bed; they kept hitting each other and jumping until Steve fell down for the last time, surrendering.

“Ok, ok, break, you won. You won!” he laughed under the last hit from Billy’s pillow.

“Did you offload? Feel better now?”

Steve nodded, looking at him straight in the eyes.

“You know, I didn’t dislike that kiss…” he said.

Billy giggled and jumped on him, grabbing the hem of Steve’s shirt. 

Steve woke up the next morning at Billy’s soft snoring. He could see the blonde curls on his nape in the feeble light of the morning.

He smiled and snuggled his face on Billy's shoulders.

[kyliafanfiction]

Word Count 1-6-23

573 Words

Count for the Month: 2501

[emeto-secret-agent]

Would you be willing to write a fic with a sick Celia?

Hi, hello, I just realized this could be just an ask and not a request, but either way, I wrote a sick Celia for you! So yes, I'm absolutely willing lol

-

Celia yawned as she sat down next to the prince’s bed and blinked a few times as she looked at him. Gosh, she was exhausted. If you’d have asked her when was the last time she had a full night’s sleep, she couldn’t even give you an answer. But not just her, all of the royal family’s maids were running on so low sleep, so Celia couldn’t complain about her own discomfort. Even if all of her body ached and she felt the tiredness’ cold rushing through her body.

Last week Florian’s younger sister just arrived back from a trip to a neighboring country, with the purpose of meeting with her soon-to-be fiancé. The princess was the castle’s little dear flower, every maid and servant loved her just as she was their own family so when she got back, everyone was waiting for her with bated breath. Were the people kind to her there? Did she like that foreign country? And has she found the young prince sweet and gentle enough for herself?

Luckily, everything went great for her and the princess was almost glowing with happiness when she arrived at the castle. Everyone sighed with relief and continued to celebrate the princess's return with a more at ease heart, who was smiling all night and playing with her new necklace. Although nobody was so relieved as her dear brother, the crown prince, Florian almost couldn’t hide the tears when he finally got to see his little sister once again. This earned him a few teasing remarks from his family, but nobody could blame him and that night was spent with celebration and happy laughter.

But soon the princess got sick. At first, they expected that maybe it had something to do with the food, but as everyone in the royal family started falling ill, it became clear that the young princess bought something with her besides the rich gifts. Nobody expected it to be this bad, so every maid was on duty 24/7 next to the sick royal family and the nobles but as time progressed, the bug hadn’t speared anyone and the weaker servant’s started falling out too. Celia now wasn’t just at Florian’s bedside all day and night, but when the prince finally fell asleep she had to hurry and help the others with their patients. She was one of the best nursing maids in the castle, of course, she had to help out where she could.

Celia wasn’t the person to get easily queasy, she couldn’t even be because of her job, but this much sickness in just a matter of a week was starting to get to her. She leaned back in her chair with a sigh as she rested her hand on top of her tummy. Finally, Florian was sleeping again and since nobody ran to her for help, she decided it was the perfect time for a little nap, and god, she did deserve it. All happiness to the princess and everything, but if she brings a stomach bug like this with her back ever again… No, she doesn’t even want to talk about it. She dealt with enough vomit for about a year. It was even taking her appetite away and even though Celia knew she should eat something, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Maybe after a little rest.

Sadly that rest never came, only did a loud gurgling and heavy feeling over her stomach. As much as the maid was on top of everything and always could notice if somebody was ill, somehow this talent of hers disappeared when the suffering person turned out to be herself. She couldn’t get sick that would be an absurd thing to do. Of course, the other girls who hadn’t taken care of anyone in their lives before would catch it, but not her. She still had to take care of Florian. So Celia just closed her eyes and tried to lure herself to sleep.

She even managed to fall into a weird kind of half dream, where she wasn’t actually awake but the tightness of her throat and the ache in her churning belly didn’t let her actually sleep. Red and black shapes danced in front of her eyes and though she didn’t understand why, Celia was about to give them a meaning when a sudden gag and splash of sickness dragged her back into the cold and dark reality. Mostly it was dark because the sun already set, and since nobody lit the candles only a hazy nightfall sat on the room. This was bad. Really bad.

Celia immediately know what was about to happen. How could she not, when her belly was gurgling so loudly that anyone could clearly hear it and her throat spammed full of bitter salvia which could only be forced back with a forceful swallow? The maid slammed a hand in front of her mouth but that didn’t stop the sour and sick smelling burp that irrupted from her. She was about to throw up and she was still in Florian’s room. In that Florian’s room who just woke up to the sounds of his maid gagging next to his bed. The prince was still disoriented from sleep but he sat up with a worrying look, trying to find Celia in the dusk.

‘Celia, what’s wrong?’

The maid shook her head, but this movement only just made her nausea skyrocket as she felt something starting to climb up in her throat. It was no use, she was about to puke.

‘I’m sorry Florian.’ could only blurt out Celia before jumping up and making a run for the toilet. If she has to throw up in the prince’s chamber better do it in his bathroom than on his bed.

The still sleepy Florian was left only in confusion as his maid took off, her hurried steps echoing in the room before the sound of gagging and liquid hitting liquid came from the bathroom. The prince exactly knew what this sound was, as he had to go through the same numerous times in the past week, and the thought that Celia was vomiting in the next room immediately woke him up.

‘Celia?’ called out the prince, but he got no answer other than coughing. It really didn’t sound good, so Florian not minding his own queasy belly got up and hurried to the bathroom after the maid.

Celia was kneeling before the toilet, holding into the wood chamber for her life as her body trembled with a cough. The chunky wave of puke got caught in her throat so she was trying to clear it up before she was bound to another round of vomiting. She didn’t even hear Florian getting into the room, only realizing the prince’s presence when he kneeled beside her with a sad and worried face. Celia’s already sick stomach jumped at the sight of the prince and she immediately felt the next portion of her lunch coming up.

‘I’m sorry…’ looked Celia at the prince before her cheeks puffed up and turned back to the toilet with a huge gush of vomit running past her lips.

‘It’s alright Celia, please don’t worry about it.’

What was the maid apologizing for, Florian couldn’t figure it out. Because she just got sick in front of him? Or because she called him Florian for the first time ever? Whatever was the reason, the prince didn’t want Celia to feel like he was mad at her. If anything, he was only feeling guilty as he looked at his heaving maid. She got sick because she was taking care of him all this time so in a sense, he was responsible for the girl’s poor situation and he was not about to abandon her in a state like this. Even if his own stomach churned looking at Celia spitting into the chamber, still not being well enough to endure it without a few suppressed burps.

‘Just let it out, you’re going to feel better after that.’

Celia almost squawked as she felt the prince’s hand on her back, slowly rubbing circles to comfort her. She looked at the mess in the toilet and burped, the vomit still sitting hot on her mouth and she felt a weird warmness rush over her as she recognized parts of her lunch in the vomit below her. Some of the puke got on the wooden toilet and the sour smell started filling up the bathroom and besides this, there was Florian next to her. Celia knew this strange feeling of pleasure mixed into the terrible feeling of vomiting every time she got sick, but this time it was so much more intense. The gentle touches of Florian on her skin and the worrying looks he gave her made her dizzy and her tummy churn even more. She couldn’t explain this sudden hotness all over herself, but it was a good feeling. It was a good feeling that Florian was with her. Even if it shouldn’t have ever happen…

‘Thank you Your Highness…’ Celia wiped the sweat from her face in her sleeves as she cleared her throat. The prince was a little disappointed that Celia haven’t called him Florian again, but he haven’t noted on it. ‘I’m… I’m sorry you had to see me… I’ll immediately take my leave and call another maid for you.’

Florian’s heart ached.

‘No, no, you can’t leave like this. You’re sick.’

Celia looked back at him with confusion and exhaustion in her eyes.

‘Yes, that’s exactly why I need to leave. You’re still not well enough yourself Your Highness.’

‘But I can’t let you leave like this.’

Celia wanted to argue back but a harsh cramp froze the words on her lips as she hunched over herself with one hand on her belly and the other pressed to her lips. Please, she doesn’t want to throw up again. Not in front of Florian. But as a gag lurched her body forward and the prince immediately grabbed her shoulders to help her stay upright, she was somehow glad her stomach was so cruel to her. As the next gush of vomit pressed into her palm, she had to pull her hand away and hold it in the air as she burped up more sick below. Her stomach was gurgling angrily and there were tears in her eyes, but Florian pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and started cleaning up Celia’s hand as the girl dry heaved a few more times.

‘Please look at me.’

Florian haven’t waited for an answer as he held a few fingers under Celia’s head and gently turned her face in his direction. Neither of them dared to breathe as the prince held the cloth to the maid’s face and wiped her mouth, cleaning up the stings of vomit and salvia dripping from her lips. Florian’s brows furrowed as he set the handkerchief down and then put a hand on Celia’s forehead while he rested the other on his.

‘You’re quite red and warm. I have to say I think you’re running a temperature.’

‘Yeah…’

Of course. That has to be the reason why all of her body felt like it was on fire when Florian was touching her ever so slightly. This is why he felt like dying while the prince rubbed her back as she vomited again and again. Suddenly she wished they could stay like this, even just a little bit longer. Luckily her wish came true as the prince tucked a stray lock of hair behind the maid’s ear.

‘Do you think you’re done?’

‘Not yet…’ shook Celia her head as the dizziness and nausea started to take control over her body. If only Florian wasn’t here, she wouldn’t lose her head like this…

‘Oh, alright. Just let it happen if you feel like you’re going to be sick.’

A small grin appeared in the corner of Celia’s mouth as she gazed into the drying mess.

‘That’s what I used to say to you…’

‘Yes, that’s right.’ chuckled the prince as gathered Celia’s hair in his hand and closed his eyes so he doesn’t need to lock at the vomit sitting in the chamber. It wouldn’t be too good if he started vomiting too. ‘But this time I’m taking care of you.’

Now Celia really felt like vomiting. The moment Florian’s fingers brushed against her neck a bleach left her mouth and she leaned forward. Her whole body rocked as she was waiting for the inevitable and high sounding gags left her mouth until a thin stream of hot puke rushed out of her. It was light brown and mostly liquid but was quickly followed by a much bigger and heavier gush that landed in the toilet with a disgusting splash. Celia harshly coughed and spat into the mess as Florian just patted her back and swallowed back his own sick. He remained strong for Celia but wished it’d be over soon.

They were in the bathroom for about ten more minutes but Celia haven’t thrown up again, only dry heaved and burped so Florian convinced her to leave for the bedroom. The maid was shaking so bad when they stand up that the prince was actually concerned she was going to pass out any moment, so he held Celia close to him and supported her until they reached the bed and helped her sit down.

‘I can’t stay here Your Highness…’

‘But you can’t go away. You’re too sick.’

‘But what if… What if somebody sees me in here…?’ Celia’s eyes were already closed and she was just swaying on the bed as a powerful storm was trying to blow her away, even though only Florian’s strong grip held her in place.

‘Nobody will.’ promised the prince. ‘I ordered that nobody's going to disturb me until tomorrow morning. Nobody’s going to come here, I promise.’

‘N-Nobody…?’

‘No.’

‘Then… Then alright…’

And with that Celia spread out on the blanket. It took Florian a huge amount of self-power to not burst out laughing loud but he managed to control his emotions as he helped the almost unconscious Celia under the covers and pulled it up to her chin as the girl grabbed into it with shaking fingers. After taking the bucket to the girl’s side the prince got in the bed too and smuggled as close to Celia as he dared without disturbing her. But the moving must have woken the girl up, because her eyes fluttered and suddenly she was tightly next to the prince, pushing her feverish head to his shoulder.

‘Florian…?’

His heartbeat skipped one beat.

‘Yes?’

‘Thank…you…’

And Celia was fast asleep again as Florian gently pulled her closer to his chest. Nobody will know about this and once the morning comes, they’re going to act like this never happened. But until then… Until then he’s going to let himself enjoy this a little longer.

‘You’re welcome.’ whispered Florian and burrowed his face into Celia’s hair.

[idabbleincrazy]

Self-Destruct (1/?)

Fandom: Buffyverse, Iggy Pop RPF

Rating: M (this chapter)

Pairing: Angel/Iggy Pop/Spike

Word Count: 2501

Warnings: 70′s Spangel, morally conflicted Angel, RPF, pre-series, blood and violence, punk era Spike, brief heavy petting, angst, dark fic

Summary: After his failure to save the man at the donut shop, Angel continues to spiral. And with Spike in town, things can only get better...right?

A/N: Set directly after the events seen during Angelus & Faith’s lil stroll down memory lane in Orpheus and shortly after Spike kills Nikki Wood (as seen in Fool for Love/Lies My Parents Told Me). Written for @leatafandom to make up for her gifter disappearing into the ether. I was struck with the inspiration for this after listening to I Wanna Be Your Dog and had to add Iggy into the mix just to torture Angel a lil more with an extra blue-eyed, blonde boy who is just oh so pretty and has a masochistic streak. Future parts will have BDSM threaded through it, but ramped to a vampiric level, and possibly a darker Angel than I typically write. We’ll see.

Squares Filled: Addict/Dealer ( @anyfandomdarkbingo ), emotion control ( @badthingshappenbingo ), “Do you even care?” ( @mfbingo ), skeletons in their closet ( @thebo3bingo )

So messed up, I want you here

In my room, I want you here

Now we're gonna be face-to-face

And I'll lay right down in my favorite place

And now I wanna be your dog

And now I'm ready to close my eyes

And now I'm ready to close my mind

And now I'm ready to feel your hand

And lose my heart on the burning sands

New York, 1977 

Angel stared down at his hands, blood washed away, but still there, the memory of the night before flashing through his mind. Made the soul cry and wrench, made the demon howl and rattle the bars of its cage. The sun was down now and he'd not managed more than an hour or two of uneasy sleep.

After he'd run from the donut shop and the now dead young man, Angel had scurried back to the motel he had taken residency in, barred the door as if that could protect the outside world from his renewed hunger. He tore his clothes off and stepped into the shower, scouring his flesh with water as hot as the rusting pipes allowed and the harsh soap the staff provided, scrubbing every trace of blood from his skin until the water ran clean, and then scrubbed further still as if it could penetrate through flesh and bone and clear this new stain from his soul. 

Naked and shivering, he'd crawled into bed, bloodlust still pounding away inside him, gnawing like a rat as he tried to shut out the sounds of the city, all those beating hearts and stomping feet traipsing across streets that never slept, scent of warm, sweating flesh permeating the air. Dawn came, and with it new scents and sounds, but the same, nightlife trading places with its daytime counterpart, sequins and leather replaced by business suits and conservative skirts. 

He could still taste the man on tongue, cloying but oh so potent, filling his senses and leaving him feeling like an addict itching for his next fix before it had even left his system. Sleep came in fitful stutters as the hours passed by, disturbed and disrupted by his latest misdeed and the countless others that had been haunting for nearly eighty years. He'd been able to push it down to a dull ache for the past few decades, but now it was back with a vengeance, clawing and tearing at his insides, bombarding him with flashes of memory, scarlet and raging. 

As the sun set, he managed to ignore it all enough to rise from the bed and dress. Wouldn't have bothered, but underneath all the screaming and crying within, beneath the rumble and roar outside, something familiar had seeped in. Something familial. One of his was here, somewhere in the city, close enough he could feel the tug in his blood. Kin. One who could help at least the demon, if not the soul.

Sneaking out the back entrance of the motel, avoiding as many of the human occupants as possible, he kept to the shadows as he scented out Aurelian blood. Smoke and whiskey, cornflowers and honeysuckle. The boy. His boy. Maybe he could relieve the soul, after all. Wouldn't take much convincing, surely the younger vampire would at least want recompense for the way things ended on the submarine thirty-four years ago. 

As he tracked Spike through the alleys and city streets, his thoughts turned to Lawson. He couldn't smell the Childe, wondered if he'd survived, if Spike had bothered to teach him anything of what he was. Would be better off for them both if the former sailor was well away from here, he'd hate to have to make good on his promise. 

Making his way through the crowded streets of the Bowery, Angel tried to shut out the smell of sweat and pumping blood, focusing on Spike's unique scent. His demon was slathering inside, urging him to lull some easy target into the shadows for a quick bite. After all, what was one more black mark on his already charred soul? Still, he resisted.

As he closed in on Spike, he loosened the demon's leash slightly. In order for the soul to get what it wanted, the demon would need to take control for a little while, smooth the way. 

He came to a stop a few feet from a noisy club, dozens of punked out twenty-year-olds milling around outside its doors and along the block. The smell of leather and metal and that acrid sting of hair care product overwhelmed his senses at first until he could filter through it all and hone in on his quarry. 

Trust Spike to fall in with the punk scene. Of course, he would love the thrash and bash and violence of it all. And that lingering spot of William would feel out the poetry, the emotion, behind the rebellion. No flared slacks and roller-disco's for his boy, not enough substance under the glitter. 

He locked his gaze on the younger vampire as he snuck towards him from behind. Leather duster, different from the one before, made for a woman, it seemed. Hair no longer boot-black, but bleached white, a shock of curls on top of his head. Spike was concentrating on his conversation with another man, this one slightly shorter, but slim and well-muscled, his shoulder-length hair straggly and dirty blonde. Angel was close enough now to see his eyes, blue just like Spike's, and darkening as the pair spoke. He wondered for half a second if Spike had chosen this one in expectation of their reunion, but quickly dismissed the thought, their interaction spoke of deeper intimacy than a first time pick-up. 

Pushing through the last few people separating him from the blondes, Angel pressed up behind Spike, wrapping a restraining arm around his slender waist and tugging him back against his chest. Spike barely even flinched before relaxing in his embrace.

"Thought I taught you to always watch your perimeter, boy", Angel husked in Spike's ear, Angelus prominent in his voice.

"Like I didn't sense you the moment I set foot in your neighborhood, Angelus? Knew you were following me tonight, luv, and I can guess what you came looking for."

Angel bit back a growl as he felt Spike's ass shift teasingly over his groin. The dirty blonde in front of them cleared his throat and cast a questioning look at Spike. 

"Friend of yours, Spike", the man asked with a smirk. 

Spike disentangled himself from Angel's grasp and looked between the two knowingly. 

"Don't worry, Ig, Angelus an' I go way back. Angelus, meet Iggy Pop, Iggy, pet, meet Angelus." 

"Oh, yeah?" Iggy's face brightened at that, blue eyes sparking in a way that made the demon inside lick its lips. He stuck his hand out for Angel to shake, pupils dilating further at the feel of his colder flesh. Even among the sea of pheromones wafting off the humans both inside and outside the bar, Angel could damn near feel the arousal pouring off the short blonde. "Spike's talked about you, good to finally meet you, man."

Angel's eyes widened slightly at that, and he looked over at Spike questioningly. Spike merely quirked an eyebrow.

"Ig's here's in the music biz, got a few records out an' everything." 

Still perturbed by Spike's ease with the human and the young man's seeming knowledge of what Spike was, he pulled Spike back to him and lowered his voice so Iggy wouldn't hear.

"He knows?"

"Uh-huh, got my very own Renfield, without all the bug eating, of course. God, I love this decade, especially in this city." He felt Angel’s grip tighten around him possessively and scoffed. “Oi, come off it, Peaches, not his bloody trull, yeah? Not goin’ round like some fanged rent-boy, jus’ got an understanding with the bloke.” 

Spike turned in Angel's arms and pushed him back against the wall. He stared up at the brunette and felt a thrill race down his spine at the heat in those chocolate eyes. He knew Iggy was watching them still, but he couldn’t help himself from letting his guard down for a moment, his hand raising to cup Angel's face and pull him into a brief kiss. Angel tried to deepen it, but Spike pulled away with a smirk. Angel bit back a groan of annoyance, that teasing taste of his boy's lips sparking his need higher. He needed blood and pain, the human's or his own, didn't even matter anymore, and he knew only Spike could give it to him tonight. 

"Been down this side of town a couple times a week these past two months, pet. Wondered if you were ever gonna come seek me out. So, before you go draggin’ off to some alley or something, Pops, tell me, can I bring a friend over to play?”

Angel looked over Spike’s shoulder at the musician, eyes raking over the slight but pleasing figure, so reminiscent of the William he once knew. He nodded and, as if on cue, Iggy crossed the few feet between them. 

“Let me just go tell Hilly there’s been a change of plans, then, Spike. Be right back.”

Spike stopped him from turning with a touch and handed him a twenty dollar bill.

“See if you can pry a bottle of whiskey from the old man’s fingers, eh, pet?”

Turning his attention back to Spike as Iggy walked away, Angel finally took his first good look at Spike’s new look, his cock hardening as his gaze traveled from head to toe. There were piercings in his ears, and a safety pin stuck through his eyebrow over his old Slayer scar. A chain with a small lock on it hung around his neck alongside a pair of dog tags he must've taken from a victim, and rings adorned his fingers. Under the leather jacket, he wore a black graphic tee with a rip through the image. Two belts were buckled around his slim waist, one studded with metal and looped through his faded blue jeans, the other loosely sitting over his hips and littered with d-rings like an invitation. The jeans themselves had tears in the knee and opposite thigh, flashing pale skin that tantalized the demon within. The cuffs of the jeans were tucked into a pair of combat boots the blonde must've nicked from an army surplus store. His boy could look good in a burlap sack, and this outfit just screamed of dangerous, dirty fun.

Spike's grin widened and he pressed himself against Angel's bulk, pulling him from his appraisal. 

"Haven't asked 'bout my new coat yet, you'll never guess where I got it."

"Well, it is a sight better than the last one, boy, if a bit feminine. Tell me, then."

Spike flashed him a Cheshire smile and turned around again, pulling Angel's arms back around him and resting his head back against his chest.

“Oh, she was a right treat, best fight I’ve had in a long time.” Spike squirmed teasingly in Angel’s embrace, pushing his backside against the prominent bulge he could feel tenting the older vampire’s pants. “Got my second Slayer kill, I did. Just last night. Christ, I’d almost forgotten what a rush you get from drainin’ one of them chits. Can still feel her in my blood, luv. Might let you have a taste, Angelus, if you play nice.”

Angel let out a soft growl, his soul pushed further back by the demon at the offer. Spike turned to face him again, hungry smile gone. There was a curious glint in his eye as he looked up at the elder vampire. 

“Who’s tonight for then, luv, you or me?” The look on Angel’s face was all the answer he needed. He laid a palm on Angel’s chest, close to his still heart. “What the hell’s happened to you, Angelus? Smelled it in the sub, smell it more now. And less. You smell more like them, like humans, than of demon. Yet you feel darker than I ever remember. I can't figure it out."

"Do you even care?" 

"Nah, not really. Just so long as you know how tonight's gonna go."

Without waiting for a response, Spike pulled Angel's head down for a bruising kiss, the potent blood in his veins and the scent of his Grandsire's arousal stiffening his cock almost painfully. Breaking the kiss suddenly, Spike shifted and swiftly pierced his index finger with a fang before letting his human facade fall back into place. A drop of blood welled up from the small puncture and he raised hand to Angel's mouth, smearing the ruby liquid to his bottom lip.

Angel licked the blood away with a shudder and Spike let out a low groan as he leaned forward and captured the still-bleeding finger between his lips, his tongue flicking over the pad until the wound healed. His hand fisted Spike's jacket as the taste of Slayer and Aurelian coated his mouth, and he pulled Spike closer against him, bucking his hips forward to thrust his groin against the blonde's and moaning at the feel of his matching hardness. Angelus was closer to the surface than he had been in a long time, closer, even, than he had been when he'd let the Thesulac demon have its way with the patrons of the Hyperion twenty-five years ago.

 "Like it, don't ya, pet? Feel that power, Angel-mm!"

Angel had released the healed finger and bent his head to cover Spike's mouth with his own, his tongue delving through the parted lips before the younger vampire could finish his sentence. Spike snarled and groaned against his lips, hands pushing under his suede jacket to clutch at his back through the silk of his shirt. 

The pair reluctantly broke apart when someone close by cleared their throat, their heads turning in unison towards the sound, ready to flash fang at whoever had interrupted them. Iggy stood beside them with the acquired whiskey bottle in hand and a big grin on his face.

"You two gonna stand here all night suckin' face and grinding on each other or are we gonna have some real fun?"

"I thought you said he knew what you are? Shouldn't he be afraid to talk to us like that?"

Spike chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"He does, he's just itchin' for a bit of a lesson in respect. Isn't that right, pet?"

"If you ever get your ass movin'!" Iggy's grin grew wider. "Unless you wanted to give this crowd a better show than the one playin' inside."

"Cheeky boy. Much as I'm sure Angelus' exhibition streak would approve, my gear ain't on hand, so maybe next time, Ig."

Angel let out a low growl at the thought of the suggested show, unsure of how he felt about so many humans bearing witness to their coupling and his self-sought punishment.

"Well, c'mon then, Econline's just down the block. Gonna make me beg for it, Spike?"

"You'll be begging soon enough, pet." Spike grinned with a flash of fang that had Iggy suppressing a needy groan and looped his arm through Angel's to lead him towards Iggy's van. Iggy let out a whoop of excitement that had half the milling crowd staring at their departure and responding in kind as he barreled through the press of bodies. "C'mon, Sire, let's get you sorted out, yeah?"

~~~~~

All About Spike: @leatafandom @captain-peroxid3​ 

Other: @countblucas​

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

His Little Plaything

Pairing; Stepdad!Bucky Barnes x Stepdaughter!Reader

Summary; His toy. His property. His little plaything. That’s all you are, and love being for your Stepdaddy. A piece of meat to be used as he pleases.

Word Count; 2501 pure smut.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, explicit sexual content, explicit (sexual) language, slight dub-con, major age-gap (reader is early/mid 20’s, Bucky is early/mid 40’s), stepdad x stepdaughter intercourse, unprotected vaginal sex, cheating, pet names, daddy/stepdaddy kink, fingering, oral (female receiving), spanking, use of sex toys, anal play, pussy slapping, face slapping, hair pulling, spit kink, praise kink, degradation kink, innocent kink, breeding kink, choking, rough fucking, being used, creampie, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, mention of bodily fluids.

Authors Note; I… literally have no words for this other than I’m a fucking WHORE for this man. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go and confess my sins…

Disclaimer; English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Stepdad!Bucky Masterlist

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Credit @buckysbarnes for the gif

There was no way in hell to concentrate on your favourite movie that was playing on the TV while your stepdad was sitting beside you on the sofa, his hand between your legs. The short skirt you wore made it easy for him to gain access to your clothed core as his fingers stroked over your covered clit.

Your head rests on the back of the sofa as his forehead is pressed to the side of your head, his hot breath fanned across your face.

Your mom was sitting on the armchair beside the sofa. Light snoring could be heard from her as she had a few too many glasses of wine than she could handle. All she had to do was open her eyes to see what was happening beside her. How her boyfriend was playing with her daughter’s pussy.

Your bottom lip was captured between your teeth to try and minimise the soft mewls of pleasure escaping you as he teasingly circled your bundle of nerves.

His free hand gently stroked your bare thigh. Where his palm went over, had your skin feeling electrified.

“You love when I play with your little pussy like this, sweet girl?”

“Y-yes, stepdaddy… Please, I-I want more.”

“More?” A dark chuckle sounded from his throat at you being so needy for his touches. “I’ll give you more, sweetheart.”

He pulled your panties to the side, revealing your core into the cold air. In no time, he plunged two fingers into your warm tightness, spending no expense in moving them in and out of your hole. His thumb circled your clit.

“Mmm.. such a good girl for me.”

“Oh, daddy.”

The cries of pleasure came out rather loudly. Bucky’s free hand came over your mouth to keep you quiet.

Your mom stirred in the chair, mumbling something to herself before she went silent.

“Shhh, baby girl. We don’t want to wake your mother up, now do we?”

The ability to speak had been taken from you, so all you could do was nod your head to let him know you understood.

It didn’t take long for you to come undone on his fingers. Your cries sounded against his palm as your hips moved on his digits, never wanting them to stop fucking you.

“Such a desperate girl you are, princess.”

Once you had come down from your high, he pulled out from your hole. The moment his fingers left your pussy, you craved for them to find their place in you once more.

Bucky brought his fingers up to his mouth so he could clean them off, moaning out at your taste.

“You taste so sweet, baby girl. Here,” his hand grabbed your chin so he could turn your face to his, leaving a sloppy kiss on your lips for you to taste yourself.

“Now, go up to your room and wait for me on the bed. I’ll be right there, sweetheart. Daddy wants to fuck his little toy.”

Your pussy pulsated in need at his promise of using your body for his liking, his own personal fucktoy.

You got up from your place. It took you a second to find your footing since your legs felt like jello. Bucky smacked your ass as you walked away; a quiet yelp sounded from you at the sting.

Once in your room, you sat on the edge of the bed, the palm of your hands keeping your weight up as you leaned back some. The anticipation was so high as you waited for his arrival. You felt like a bitch in heat, and you couldn’t help yourself when you crossed your legs to get some friction on your aching clit.

After a few minutes, he comes in through your bedroom door and locks it behind him. You uncross your legs, ready for whatever he’s going to do to you.

He licks his lips and palms his growing bulge as he sees you sitting on the bed, so sweet and innocent, waiting for your daddy like a good girl.

Power and dominance is evident on him as he walks over to where you’re sitting, his frame towering over you. The pad of his thumb caresses your lips as a sadistic smile forms on his face. He pushes his digit into your mouth, your tongue swirling around it.

“I’m gonna fucking destroy you, little girl.”

The thumb falls from your lips, and he takes hold of your jaw tightly, his face only inches from yours.

“I’m gonna fill all your pretty little holes, princess.”

Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the thought of him filling you all up. Oh god, you were such a needy little slut for him to take you as he pleased.

He let go of your jaw and walked over to your nightstand. One time when you weren’t home, he had been snooping around in your room to see what his stepdaughter was up to when she was all alone. And to his surprise, he found your small collection of sex toys.

Pulling out a buttplug from the bottom drawer, he examined the toy in hand, fascinated with its shape and the pink heart crystal at the end of it.

“You’re not as innocent as I thought you were. What do you think about when you play with yourself, sweet girl.”

“You, stepdaddy. I think about you always when I play with myself.”

“Mmm… I bet you do, little girl.” There was a grin of satisfaction on him from the answer you gave.

A gasp came from you as he pushed your body down on the mattress. Taking your panties off and tossing them to the side, bending your knees and pushing your legs up to your chest. Once you were spread out for him, he had a fantastic view of your glistening pussy.

“Such a pretty little pussy you have.”

He gets on his knees so he can worship all of you. He starts with leaving open-mouth kisses on your inner thigh, travelling his lips slowly till he reaches the one place you crave him the most.

He drags his tongue through your folds, flicking the tip of it on your desperate nub. Your eyes flutter shut, and your hand's fist in his hair as he slurps up your pussy, sucking your clit till it’s swollen, quenching his thirst. He spits on your pussy to claim ownership over it.

“Mmm… my pussy… mine only,” his nose bumps your clit as he utters his possessive words.

The buttplug gets pushed into your pussy, fucking you with it to get it covered in your wetness. Once he’s satisfied, he drags it down to your puckered hole, resting the tip of it on your entrance.

His thumb carefully massages your clit as he pushes the toy into your ass. A loud gasp comes from you as it stretches you out.

“Fuck, daddy.”

“There we go,” a sweet and comforting kiss is left on your thigh as it’s situated entirely in you, “good girl.”

He takes off all articles of clothing on him, and when he pulls down his underwear, his hard cock slaps against his abdomen. You let out a satisfied gasp as you take him in. Oh god, you want his cock so badly to wreck you.

Bucky helps you with your own clothing. He takes off your tight shirt and bra, exposing your beautiful breasts to his dark gaze. He leaves your skirt on, loving how the material bundles up your waist. It was such a huge turn-on for him.

“Mmm…” his hand wraps itself lightly around your throat before he travels his hand downwards. He palms your breast delicately in his grasp before he moves lower, down your stomach and until he gets to your awaiting pussy. The touch of him leaves a tingling sensation on your skin.

He spanks your pussy, hard. His palm hits your poor sensitive clit, and the delicious sting has your nerves feeling on fire.

“Oh, fuck, daddy,” you said with a whine.

“Look at you. All mine to use, my pretty doll.”

Your toes curl as his thumb massages your tingling nub before his hand slaps your quivering pussy once more, making you cry out in pain and pleasure.

Once he’s done with the spanking, he takes hold of his cock and glides his leaking tip through your folds, tapping his head on your clit. His cock gliding on your tingling pearl feels so fucking good. You're already panting as the need for him to use your hole grows stronger with each moment.

You grab hold of the back of your thighs, pulling them back to hold yourself more open for him.

“Yes. Yes, good, baby. Keep them there. Pussy so beautifully presented to me.”

“Please, daddy. Use me.”

There was no need to tell him twice. He plunged his cock deep within your pussy; the force of him had you sob out a cry. The feeling of having both your holes filled to perfection had your eyes flutter in delight.

“Look at you, baby,” he loses no time in fucking your little pussy, so deep and powerful as he forces his cock in your hole in long strokes. “You love having both your holes filled, don’t you, baby?”

“Oh,” your back arches up, and your eyes close shut tight,” it feels so good, stepdaddy.”

The sight of his cock disappearing through your walls is like a work of art. A beautiful fucking masterpiece.

His thumb plays with your clit as he fucks you into oblivion. The added stimulation has a few tears spill from your eyes. It all feels so good that it hurts. You want him to stop, but at the same time, you never want him to do so.

Your soft sounds of pleasure, his low grunts and skin slapping against one another, is all that could be heard in your room. All of that stops when you hear someone walking up the stairs. It’s your mom.

Bucky calms down his movements, his strokes so painfully slow. He puts his finger to his lips to signal you to be quiet. You try to the best of your abilities to do so, but his cock between your walls is too much for you to handle even when he slows his movements down. His thumb pushes between your mouth for you to suck on and keep your noises at bay. The sight of you having all your pretty and needy holes filled has his eyes darken to an almost black colour. God, he hopes your mother will walk past your room, she he could continue fucking you raw and stupid, but no, her footsteps stop right outside your bedroom door.

“Hello?” She bangs hard on the door. “Are you in there? What are you doing, young lady?”

Bucky could see the panic and fear in your eyes at the thought of getting caught. What the fuck were you supposed to do now? This could turn very ugly if she found out that her boyfriend was balls deep in her daughter’s pussy.

“Be good and answer her,” he whispered, “come up with a lie.” He removed his thumb from your mouth so that you could speak freely.

“No-nothing, m-mother. I-I’m just ge-getting ready t-to ta-take a s-shower.”

It was so hard to form the words while Bucky’s cock stroked your walls so nice and slow; the added stimulation on your clit didn’t help at all. A particularly hard thrust from him had you yelp out into the room, and you brought your hand to your mouth to cover any sounds from escaping.

“Where’s Bucky?”

You removed your hand to answer her once more. Inhaling and exhaling a deep breath to calm yourself.

“I-I thi-think he le-left to buy so-some more be-beers, mother.”

She said nothing. She just stood outside the room, listening for a while longer before she left. Her footsteps could be heard going down to the living room again.

Once Bucky knew she was out of earshot, he plunged his dick hard into you again. Abusing your pussy like he had before you got interrupted.

He fisted your hair in his hand and pulled your head up from the bed, his face inches from yours.

“Look at you. Such a needy little cock whore. Couldn’t control herself while you spoke with your mother. Your pussy filled up with your stepdaddy’s cock was too much for you to handle.”

Your eyes were closed as he had his way with your body. It was so much that you couldn’t even think. All you had was cock on your mind.

“Hey, look at me,” he slapped your face. Not too hard but hard enough to leave a stinging sensation on your cheek. It snapped you out of your cock trance.

“You're my fucktoy. My property. My little plaything. A piece of meat for me to use whenever I please.”

Oh, god, yes. That’s all you ever wanted to be for him. A hungry little cock whore for your stepdaddy.

“Yes, daddy. I’m just your little fucktoy to use.”

“Good girl.”

You showed him your tongue so he could see what a good and needy cock slut you were for your stepdad. He spat on your face. His sinful and degrading action surprised you, but nonetheless, it was a major turn-on for you that he laid his claim on you like that.

His hand wrapped hard around your throat, and he pushed your head back into the mattress again.

“I’ll feed you my cum now, sweet girl.”

“Please, please fill me up, stepdaddy. My pussy is so hungry for your cum.”

A second later, his hot seed spurt out of his tip and into your awaiting womb. It felt so delicious as he came deep inside your pulsating walls. His hips snapped rapidly against you as he emptied himself entirely.

You felt like passing out as you came around him. Your eyes fluttered shut, tears streamed down your cheeks, and your toes curled up as your orgasm hit you hard and intensely. There was no sound coming out of your open mouth, too shook even to let out any.

“Shit, look at my pussy taking all of me. Such a good hole.”

A sob came from you as his cock left your used and abused hole. You felt so sore, so sensitive, yet it was the most incredible feeling in the world.

“Look at that,” Bucky was fascinated with his cum trickling out of your quivering hole, “such a pretty sight.”

He collected all of the cum with the tip of his cock and pushed himself hard into you again. You cried out when he did.

“Oh, is my princess gonna cry?” There was nothing but pure mockery in his voice.

Once again, his hand wrapped around your throat, his face inches from yours.

“Daddy’s not done with you yet. I’m gonna use your pretty hole again, and again, and again until you cry and beg me to stop....”

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