#I’ll write eventually I promise

[eyeknowmayhem]

// Logs in. I am completely Covered in blood. (Remembered my password) Etc

[cherry-pop-elf]

Warming Up The New Client

Fred Weasley x Reader

Sum: Was another one of those little bets you and Fred did. You lost, but you are kinda the biggest winner between the two of you. Especially when one of the Weasley’s business partners come in to discuss important things. Let’s see if he can keep his head straight

Warnings: 18+, cock warming, blow jobs, semi public, kinda cracky because not everything needs to be a porno you gotta laugh, accidental choking, worried boyfriend because whoops this has become a sitcom, after care. Lowkey tho any fic you’ll read from me will have it, unless stated otherwise. HEALTHY AND REALISTIC SEX

“MR WEATHERBIRD! What are you doing here?!” Fred would panic, as he would force his chair to push into the desk. Was followed by a thump, as your body hit the back of the desk. Hardly any space for you, and his legs, in the confined space.

Why were you under his desk, and between his legs? Well you lost a bet. Was a harmless one. Just those lazy Mondays, at the shop, where you both needed something to help stimulate the day. A bet where it didn’t matter who won or loss, because there weren’t really any losers when the fun is the game.

Your prize for losing was to give the winner a blow job. Nothing too crazy. That is until unaware company arrived. That being a man that the Weasley twins were meant to do business with. Seems like George must have missed the man. Well, he arrived via fire place. George wouldn’t have seen him arrive, unless in the office with you two.

“Is now a bad time, Mr. Weasley? I figured Mondays would work best for you. Tis a joke shop, after all. The slowest day of the week, as your largest income bracket is through the school children. A Monday morning felt the most reliable to arrive.” Damn his logic, that was what Fred thought. He had a point.

“No no! It’s fine, you are right. Just surprise, that’s all. Take a seat. Let’s talk!” He would grin his award winning smile, as you remained stuck in your hiding place. Left with a choice to make. Stop what you are doing, or see how far you could push the button. Well, you married a Weasley. What’s a little bit of risk?

“Wonderful. We have much to discuss.” Boy was this going to be boring. You knew it, Fred knew it, but hey. You are certainly going to make it more enjoyable. Or worse. Either way, it’s gonna be fun.

As the older gentlemen began his garble, you were busy with your own garbling. Letting his cock press into your cheek, as you tried to find a way to move your head. You didn’t want to just keep thumping your head on the wood. That’s not fun at all.

You were shifting your head all over the place, as you tried to get comfortable. Made for your boyfriend to struggle with paying attention to the boring work jargon his business partner was making. Was certainly difficult to make sure he looked like he was listening, and not currently getting sucked off. Certainly difficult indeed, when those freckled cheeks of his were rosey.

“You seem a bit warm, Mr. Weasley. Are you feeling well?” The older gentlemen would ask Fred. Ever the charismatic man he was, he was oh so quick to think on the fly. Lie out of every situation. Such a charming gift to have.

“Fever fudge. You know how my brother and I are. We always self test our products. That way if anyone gets hurt, it’s us. We only ever field test with mostly our siblings. We know how they would react to what we make, but not to strangers. No. We don’t act like it, but we try and keep things safe.” That seemed to win over Mr. Weatherbird. Charmed the man as much as he could charm a gaggle of girls in a quidditch stand.

The devil on your shoulder was going to be the death of you, and him, with what it was whispering to you. Wanting to try and make his facade crack somehow. Just a little bit. Enough to make him sweat under the pressure. Just a little bit. You don’t want to actually put him at risk of anything, but gambling is gambling. Win big, or die trying.

As you finally managed to force Fred’s chair back, you could properly move your head. Made him need to sit awkwardly, to not make it appear that he was pushed back. Didn’t want the man to get suspicious. Seems he wasn’t, as he was busy with papers. Gave Fred time to look down, and see your devious face. Stuffed with his cock. Was so arrousing, you could feel his cock twitch on your tongue. With fresh flavor for you to enjoy.

He would shoot you a glare, only for the man to look back up. Forced him to meet the clients eyes, as to try and act as chill as possible. Never did he think he would want to do paper work right now. Anything to not just cum down your throat. George was the moaner, not him. But you were seeing if they were identical in a few other ways.

That was until Mr. Weatherbird started to lean over the desk. Just trying to be polite, and show him something on the papers. Had Fred quickly slam himself back under the desk. Forced you to take his cock all the way down your throat, and gag on it. Had you cross eyed, and trying so damn hard to not gurgle on it. Guess you weren’t quite enough.

“What was that noise-?” “What noise?” “Sounded like someone was choking….” Fred, ever quick, was able to come up with the perfect lie. A lie melted in truth, to keep the seal on the little secret at hand closed.

“We have a product here called puking pasties. A pastry used to help kids throw up. For one reason or another. Not to mention we have many things that stink so bad you wish to obliviate yourself from the memory. Just kids being kids. George has it under control.” He would brush off the worry, as you tried to find your ability to breathe again.

Was rather difficult, as you were now trapped entirely under the desk this time. How your head was pressed against the desk, and held no way to move your head. Just gagging around his cock, with drool soaking all over your clothes.

The more you tried to steady yourself, the more his cock twitched in your mouth. Feeling your tongue trying to adjust itself. How your throat kept clenching and your lips desperate to move.

Before you could make any other noises, he was quick to wave his wand. Had his gramophone kick to life, and play that loud swing music those twins loved. Nothing like some big band to liven up the scene. Along with hide more of your gagging, and sputtering, in the hopes to finish this meeting.

“That’s better. Now, as we were saying-“ The droning was starting to get to him. All his mind could think about you was choking on his cock. Had him aroused, but also very worried he was hurting you. It’s not hot if it’s not consented on. Was an accident, yes, but he loves you and wants you safe. He had to figure out how to get you out of there, before things get worse.

“Say uh. Mr. Weatherbird, um-“ Wow was it getting harder to talk. Wasn’t helping that you were still scrambling. Your hands reaching into his lap, to try and push him back some. When trying to reach the front of his chair, you got a full grab of your favorite stress toy instead. Had his eyes go cross, for a moment, as he had to bite his lip. Trying so hard, but he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Oh, I know it’s alot. You are so new to this world of business. I respect it. You two are stars, I can see it. I’ll do my best to help guide you both. You two are already doing so wonderful. Truly business savvy. Your parents must be so proud. Here, I’ll leave these papers for you and your twin to discuss over. Just send an Owl if you have any questions.” He gave a tip of his hat to Fred, as Fred himself did his best to give a flustered nod.

Mr. Weatherbird would give a wave goodbye, and vanished through the fireplace. As soon as he did, Fred pushed himself back. Made for a rather pornographic sight, and sound, as he popped his cock out of your mouth.

You were just covered in your own drool. Face more flustered than his own, with your lips swollen from being stretched for so long. How you were panting hard from the stress of the scene. It was all too much. You were just so perfect in his view. He just had to add to it.

He barely had time to close your eyes, as he leaned back. His cock just spilling his cum all across your face. Across your drool stained chest. You were just covered in so much. You were surprised he even had so much in him. Guess this was some life or death edging, so to speak.

With your breath caught, it was his turn to pant. Just leaning back in his office chair. His body slack, as he was seeing stars. That release was so needed, and so intense. He swore he pulled his back out from it.

“That could have gone better…Or worse. Depends on if we look at this from a positive view or not.” You would joke, as he gave a dry laugh. Happy to know you were ok. You knew he was worried, you could just tell. There was something sweet about it. That even with such heat of the moment he was looking out for you.

You would let him collect himself, as a cleaning charm solved all your problems. You also were polite to help out his dick away for him. After care goes both ways, after all. When he would come back to reality he would take care of you. You knew that. Until then, you’ll make sure he is cared for to.

Once he had his time to no longer sweat himself a new pool, he would pull you into his lap. Just cuddling you. A means of apology, without saying it. You knew he was trying to not have you humiliated. It wasn’t intentional in any way. The way you would play with his hair conveyed it. Both of you using your own silent little love language.

“So….Whens your next meeting?” The fact you asked that made his head spin. You wanted to do that again? That risk? The choking? The fear? The adrenaline? The insanity of it all?

“…….Thursday, after lunch….” He’s a Weasley. They were all adrenaline junkies. That’s just one of the many things that made you love him. Love him, kiss him, and bump your noses together. His adorable bird nose, with yours.

“You are such a minx, and I LOVE it.”

[comatosebunny09]

you're good at this—playing all coy and social as if you aren't a clump of nerves ready to burst.

like your legs aren't bouncing beneath the table, and you haven't knocked your knees against its underside a few times, almost spilling your wine.

like you haven't bitten your lips to hell, and your teeth aren't stained with the pretty rouge of your lipstick because of it.

no one's the wiser to your plight. to the quiet war waging in your head and the anxiety spilling like lava into your extremities.

you'll never get used to this things, no matter how many you attend—these parties, these galas, these socialites, this acting.

none of it is you.

not the form-fitting gowns, the kohl clumped to your lashes, the facsimile of a smile you've worn all evening until your cheeks ached.

but through the chaos, one thing remains a constant: him.

him and the hand he has clasped around your thigh to tether you. anchor you back to earth. all big and warm and reassuring, and he's angling himself a little closer until your nostrils fill with the scent of cured leather and peeled mandarin. and, fuck all, he’s warm even from this proximity. so hot, you feel the pressure of his body slowly seeping into your own.

his eyes gleam like the sunset in your peripheral. silently, they ask if you're alright beneath a slightly raised brow, above a customary smirk—a mask he dons during these gatherings if only to make the time fly by. not meant to tease you, he promises. he reserves something genuine for you.

he knows you're not alright, which is why he rubs all gently at the notch of your knee—an attempt to bring you back when you feel your mind slowly disconnecting from your body.

- at an event with sylus. you're clearly nervous. you always are. so the pair of you bid an irish goodbye, and he'll murder anyone who has the gall to stop you.

- watching him sneer at the partygoers blocking your exit is low-key a turn on.

- the night concludes with you both settled on your couch in your living room.

- and, of course, kissing ensues. because why wouldn't it?

- and he's a little handsy, so deft fingers creep up the expanse of your thigh because, of course, the slit of your dress would beckon such actions.

- and sure, yeah. you're into it as he gently pushes you back against the sofa. slots himself between your split legs as your fingers rake through the riot of his hair.

- and he hums all nice and low into your mouth, very much enjoying the sticky grind of your lips together.

- this is sylus. he's always gentle. always takes care of you, treating you like aged porcelain preserved in a museum.

- so why the fuck are you so nervous?

- you’ve made out a thousand times before.

- sex, however.

- well, fuck.

[the-rat-k-ing]

he got arrested 😔

[babybirbb]

having carmrichie in therapy thoughts

both of them realizing being together isn’t going to magically fix everything, but also seeing this as a push to want to get better

richie definitely went before carmy and eventually decided to finally drag carmy in for his own sessions

at some point carmy and richie in couples/duo/family therapy

having their shouting matches in there with some breakthroughs that leads to physical assurance (hand on shoulder, arm, thigh, or hand-holding)

sometimes they’re in there unable to look at each other

them leaving the restaurant together to go to the appointments, no one really questions it and accepts the calm that’s bestowed the two, despite their curiosity

them changing, growing, healing but, as hard as it is, most importantly they’re doing it together

[noodleyboodley]

Flying

[darkwing-katy]

Accidentally wrote something kinda cute and angsty for the Lost Halloween fic prompt a few days ago.

Actually, both of the stories I’ve plucked out of the consciousness of the universe are a bit angsty. I dunno where the heck this came from from, but it’s there, and I really like where both of them are going because we need more Dad!Ben and Kid!Alex fics in the world, but hot damn, as cute as they are, they’re also bittersweet.

My subconscious must be in a weird mood.

Also I’m weird about publishing stuff when I think it’s ready, so it might be the very end of the month before I actually put them on AO3. I like to let my fics marinate before I edit them. Anyone else do this?

[i-didnt-do-1t]

all my Jack posts are so sad, Jack Kelly and loneliness, Jack Kelly and Regret, Jack Kelly and the themes of responsibility

What about Jack Kelly and catching a fuckin break huh, it’s the least he deserves

[luuxxart]

continuing my x-files obsession with a very loose shiromura plot about alien hunting (but it’s not actually abt the aliens)

[dvrcos]

is it possible?? Another Kevaaron shipper???

Oh yes yes yes I am huge on kevaaron!! Those are my boys I love them so much and I think their dynamic is so fun and interesting

(even if it doesn’t totally make sense in canon it’s okay because I’m delusional and I can make it make sense)

[lil-oreo-crumbles]

You know back when the AU was a comic, I was able to gloss over so much of the politics of Mewni Creek I was not well equipped to handle and focus instead on the relationships and bonds that were important to the story going forward and explain the new governmental system of this combined world after it had been established and the masses calmed long down.

But now? Now that it’s a fic? Now that I have to essentially re-start the Ovelia establishment and better flesh out her blossoming friendships and connections to the main cast?

I’ve really gotta buckle down and write the politics and post-Cleaved chaos don’t I.

Man…

[phantasmaltrain]

sometimes i remember being able to draw is like. i can do whatever i want here. who said i have to color. right to shading baby

[mahougotham]

A Dear Friend

Jonathan sat at the small table in the middle of the dark and damp warehouse Jervis and Alice called home. Jervis was serving him tea as Alice insisted he take more cakes and sandwiches, all of this hospitality wasn’t as overwhelming as the first time they did this but it was still quite the experience.

“Now, Hare,” Jervis clapped his hands together, “What brings you here? It’s not like you to come without Alice fetching you.”

“Anyone giving you trouble,” Alice suggested, “Jervis and I heard that there’s fighting within Al Ghul’s champions. I know Jervis was sleepless thinking about you being in that mess.”

“No… no I’m fine,” Jonathan said behind his teacup, “I got asked to join an alliance a couple times but I’m fine. I just wanted to ask a question.”

Alice and Jervis leaned in, in turn Jonathan leaned back.

“Mr. Nygma says you’re like the twins,” the young man said, “you remember everything. Right?”

“I remember enough,” Jervis answered before gesturing at his sister, “Alice has been helping me piece everything together so far but it comes to me in flashes. I remember enough to know that Edward and the Penguin are lovers despite the… everything going on between them.”

Jonathan nodded, thinking about it, the Riddler did go through bouts of depression when the Penguin disappeared or fought people other than him. It was especially annoying when he was forced to help Edward with something specifically organized to fuck with the Penguin. Alice gave Jonathan another small cake which he quickly accepted.

“What were we?”

Jervis stopped pouring Alice a cup and Alice looked over at Jervis with worry.

The issue of Jervis and Jonathan’s relationship was always hard to navigate for the Mad Hatter. They were lovers, Jervis was the innocent maiko spirited away by the god of fear, Jonathan was his reason for being a champion. Of course, the current cycle presented a problem, Jonathan was far too young and Jervis wasn’t going to do that to him, he wanted to destroy the city but he wasn’t a monster! Jervis had made the decision upon reuniting with the Scarecrow that they cannot be together like before, but he can mentor Jonathan and make sure he’s happy in this life and he liked to think he and Alice succeeded in that.

“Well,” Jonathan asked.

“Jonathan Crane, you were someone I respected,”Jervis answered carefully, “You were someone I would rely on and you in turn trusted me. We were partners but most importantly you were a dear friend of mine. And I would like to continue to be friends in this life as well.”

Jonathan took a long sip of tea and nodded.

As the tea party progressed, Jervis was reminded of a tall and haggard man in a ripped up kimono helping himself to sweets much like how Jonathan was right now.

[skyward-floored]

I wrote another little IAU thing and I don’t have time at the moment to put it on here but it’s on ao3 if you’re impatient 👍

[walkawaytall]

Someone asked last week if I was planning on continuing Purpose of Heritage past the beginning of The Empire Strikes Back and the answer was no, with a slight caveat.

Was?

[an-eala-bhan]

Me: I’m gonna write about something other than matchablossom

Also me: *only writes matchablossom*