#Who's Who Darling? AU

[honeysickledream]

Who's Who, Darling? Part 2 | Poly141 x F!Reader

Tags / cw: NSFW (Smut) fivesome (F/M/M/M/M), fingering (f!receiving), p in v, protected sex, blindfolds, finger sucking, a bit of spanking, light pussy slapping, edging (ig?), orgasm denial of sorts, birth control (IUD) mention, Reader is referred to as Pet a handful of times (mainly by Price), offscreen masturbation, polyamory discussions and agreements, no use of Y/N, no descriptions of reader | if i missed anything, let me know! MINORS DNI (18+) w/c: ~3.4k Pt. 1 | AO3 A/n: this whole thing got away from me, it’s a long one. I’ve been slowly writing it as life hits me upside the head with a new pan every other day. If parts feel rushed, that’s predominately why. Proofread in the middle of the night so ignore typos, please. Also, happy Halloween! divider by @/saradika-graphics

The guys are making coffee and tea when you manage to pull yourself out of the bed and stumble into the kitchen. You’re flashed a smile by each and given pecks on the cheeks as you rub the sleep from your eyes and try to adjust to being alive and having them in your house—last night seeming like some mouthwatering fever dream. Soap suddenly proposes that he make breakfast for everyone and you whine, knowing just how inept he is in the kitchen. The little kitchenette in the break room on base has been closed down more times than anyone can count because he manages to set something on fire.

Price quickly banishes Soap to the living room and sends you along with him, but not before he hands you a warm mug filled with your favorite drink doctored just the way you liked it. There’s not much room on the couch, not with Soap sitting on the middle cushion with his legs spread out as far as they’ll go. He gives you a look—the ‘come sit on my lap, I don’t bite’ look—and you give in. It’s too early in the morning to be stubborn, to be standing honestly, and you’re chilly despite the heat being on.

His thick arms wrap around you, pulling you as close as they can, and he turns on the TV. You notice as you take small sips from your mug that Soap’s eyes are trained on your throat as it bobs with each swallow. He gives you the sweetest look as he asks—begs almost—to give your throat a kiss. Tells you he’s been wanting to do it for ages now and that he promises not to bite.

Fucking liar he is. One peck to the center of your throat turns into another, then a dozen more with faint nibbles between each one. He licks your throat, too, which causes your breath to catch and thighs to press together. The throbbing in your clit worsens when he noses at your pulse point and whines, hips jerking lightly against your ass.

Ghost’s voice cuts through the faint buzzing in your ears and you wince as your arousal dissipates. He tells you breakfast is ready, but you’re not released from Soap’s intense hold. Ghost gives him a glare and Soap’s hips buck once more in response. You’re given one last nip before Soap lets you push off him. He trails behind you, the hem of your sleep shirt caught between two fingers.

Your place at the table has been set elegantly, as if you were royalty. Price pours you a glass of juice while Gaz pushes your chair in and lays a napkin (really it’s just the second cheapest kind of paper towel you could get) in your lap. Ghost places your plate before you and awkwardly gives your head a pat when you thank him. It’s awfully charming being treated so well by them, but there’s a bit of suspicion lurking in the back of your mind.

It’s not your fault the men you’ve entertained in the past have be lackluster in…well, just about every way.

They all sit on the other side of the table, crammed together like sardines in a tin as they dig into their own omelets and hash. Your omelet was the prettiest that’d been made: no tearing along the seam, perfect gold spots across the outside. The seasonings used were light and complementary. Ghost had been the one to cook it, you reasoned. He was a maestro in the kitchen, always bringing in little bits of what he’d cooked the night before to team meetings or sharing his food during breaks in the rec room when it wasn’t under repair because of Soap.

Your appetite quickly fades as you wonder when the topic of ‘Round Two’ will be mentioned, or if Ghost and Gaz’s hints of things turning into something more will be touched on. Both have been sitting in the back of your mind since last night to the point you recall vague dreams regarding them. The anticipation of a talk makes faint nausea build in your belly as your heart keeps wondering and hoping, hoping, hoping—

Price clears his throat and your fork skids on the plate. The screeching of metal on porcelain makes your skin crawl and your teeth ache. All four of the guys look at you with concern and you wave them off, quickly taking a sip of juice. The anticipated conversation begins once you swallow, no chance of any spit takes or choking.

He puts it all very plainly: the four of them do want you. They’d been keen on you for the longest but had all agreed to refrain from making any moves to preserve camaraderie but then you’d gone and complained about your workload and not being laid. The perfect opportunity for them, for you. He tells you they’d talked about how things would go afterwards, the proposition of some kind of…situation or legitimate relationship between you and all of them.

It’s stressed that there’s no pressure, no true expectations of anything—the military’s funny that way sometimes; the expectation for anything to work out often squashed without realizing once it begins to grow. Soap becomes a little pouty when Gaz assures you they’ll all be okay if you decline round two of the bet, or if you ask them to just forget anything ever happened.

That’s when you ask if you can say your piece and you’re given the floor. You find it flattering, and jarring, that they’ve all had their eye on you for a while. You admit you can’t help but pay close attention to them as well. Sometimes you think you know their personalities, talents, and appearances better than your own. And you express that round two is something you desperately want to have happen. But, the prospect of a relationship of any kind between the five of you makes you twitchy despite the last twelve or so house of constant dreamy pondering.

You explain, not in too much detail, that your past relationships and dynamics haven’t been the healthiest. Each one adding a new boundary and expectation to an already long list. Anyone you get with in the hopes of something serious is quickly met with said list because you’ve learned to never assume that people will be good and faithful. You tell them that you’re willing to explore things with them if they’re amenable to be respectful of that list—and of course, you would be be respectful of their limits.

They hear you out when you tell them you’d want something closed, just the five of you. Everyone intertwined in various pairings if that’s what they wanted, but no outside people. Too complicated, too risky in some circumstances. No one throws a fit or even looks the least bit bothered by the boundary which settles your nausea significantly. Slow and steady is your next big point. You want to explore things with them as they come up naturally, be it kinks or troubles or life in general. Rushing to force an experience, you have found, cheapens it and leads to some form of relationship burnout that you don’t want to experience with them or have them experience with you.

It’s all quite formal, their agreeing to what you want and stating their own boundaries—no secrets, the relationship still exists but becomes second place when on a mission or otherwise at work, communication remains at the forefront of everything—which you’re happy to agree to. You’re half-tempted to get some pens and paper to really seal the deal, but you settle for pinking-promising with Soap which seems to be enough for the others.

Breakfast is through not long after, and you work with the guys to put away leftovers and clean up the kitchen. You get a kiss on the cheek or shoulder, a firm hand pressing your back whenever they pass by you. It makes your skin heat, your stomach and heart in some mild flux at the constant sweet attention that is all yours. They receive their own affections from you, a peck in return for a peck, a gentle lean into their side when their shoulders brush yours.

Soap mentions needing a change of clothes—toiletries, too—and the others echo him. They’d be gone for a while, base was a healthy distance from your home which is just how you like it, but you didn’t want to be alone while getting ready for round two. You ask if they can grab some of Price’s stuff to bring back while they’re on base so he can hand around to take part in the prep since he got so little time with you last night.

And that’s exactly what led to you trying to tune out the grating voices of sports casters while being prepped on the couch.

Price has been idly fingering you for the last hour while watching a rerun of a football game he missed during the last deployment. He slowly presses two of his thick fingers into your cunt, keeps them still for a moment or two before he crooks them and you tense around them. Then he pulls them most of the way out while spreading them bit by bit, only to push them back in.

Occasionally he’ll get a text, sometimes multiple at a time and you know it’s from the others because of the little text tones. Whatever they send him has his hips bucking, causing his hard cock to rub against your stomach for a bit of friction before he settles.

You want to bite him for being such a fucking tease but you can’t find much purchase to do so given that you’re draped over his lap and pinned there, face buried in one of your fluffy throw pillows that Soap teased you for owning. You also remember that it was you who asked him to stay behind to prep you and to do it his way.

The front door opens and you perk up to the best of your ability. You try to squirm a bit so you can go greet the others and find out what they’d been up to, but John’s hold on you tightens. He gives your bare ass a light slap, soothing over the spot as the faint burn of pain faded. The others come into view and you whine at them, but they don’t pay you any mind, leaving you to your fate with Price as they go to the bedroom, shopping bags and luggage in hand.

“I didn’t know they were going to the shop, too. What did they get?” you ask Price.

“You’ll find out when we’re ready for you to,” he says as he slowly presses a third finger into you. The stretch is bordering on uncomfortable. His free hands soothes your tensing back. “Three’s all we’ll do—that’s what we agreed on. Relax for me, pet.”

You huff, feigning annoyance while relaxing to the best of your ability. His three fingers are about as wide as your biggest toy. The same one that sits at the back of your nightstand drawer, used only when you have a fully uninterrupted day off, something you haven’t had in ages. It simply takes too long to prep yourself and when you’re ready, you’re too tired—annoyed, too, sometimes—to do more than cockwarm it for a while. It was also hit and miss if penetration did much for you.

Something thuds in the bedroom and you bang your head against the fluffy pillow. “If they break something up there—“

“Nothing’s broken, pet. Gaz probably tripped on Soap’s damn boots, or Ghost’s turned one of them into a pretzel for being annoying,” Price said.

Price gets a text and he pulls his fingers out of you slowly. He’s gentle as he grabs hold of you, a wall of muscle for you to lean on as the shaky muscles in your legs remember how to work. The bed���s been stripped down to the fitted sheet and mattress protector under it, a lone pillow is at the foot of the bed. Water bottles and a variety of snacks have been laid out on your desk, the lights dimmed and tower fan turned on to manage the temperature. Ghost hands you a lilac satin blindfold, a definite upgrade to the sleep mask he’s now tossing in the trash bin under your desk.

A quick refresher of the dos and don’ts and safe words are had before Ghost helps you lay the strip of fabric over your eyes and tie it in place. You casually drop that if the others want to toy around with you while you try to determine who’s fucking you, they should go for it.

Four sets of hands guide you onto the bed and put you on your knees, the pillow secure under your elbows. Belt buckles clank and fabric rustles, you hear whispers before a box is opened and foil is crinkled—condoms. Condoms had escaped your mind but not theirs, and you’re glad. Sure you’ve got an IUD that’s going to need replacing in a handful of months, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. None of you could afford the scare that came along with not using condoms.

The bed dips as one of them kneels behind you and you try not to flinch when a firm hands rests on your hip. You arch your back as his tip presses against your slit with the slightest bit of pressure. It’s when he slowly presses into you that you realize just how necessary Price’s three fingers were. The stretch makes you shudder and clench, your inner voice reminding you relax as he massages your hips.

You give him a quick thumbs up when you feel situated enough. His movements are slow at first, he pulls out halfway before guiding you back until your ass is flush with his hips. You feel unruly hairs scratch your cheeks and shake your head, knowing full well who it is: Soap. You may or may not have caught a few glimpses of his bush, at least the top bit, during the times he stretches his arms over his head after unbuckling his belt post-mission or training.

He reaches around and between your legs to toy with your poor clit that had been ignored by Price for a whole hour. You whine into the pillow as your body shudders with pleasure and your hips jerk to chase his teasing fingers, pulling you out of the steady pace that had been set. You hold off on saying his name because he’s at least trying to be a giving partner, but it stumbles from your lips when his pace gets faster and jostles you closer to the edge of the bed.

Per the rules of the bet, his turn is over. He slips out and carefully pulls you from the edge. You feel a little bad that he didn’t come, but then he groans softly across the room and you know he’s taking care of himself just fine. And probably sitting naked on your leather desk chair at that.

Someone gently turns you onto your back and settles between your legs, cool hands guiding them to hook around his hips. You’re given a bit of time to adjust to him before he’s leaning on his left forearm and thrusting into you firmly. There’s no way to identify him by his manscaping, or lack thereof, and he hasn’t started using his hands or making sounds, which quickly frustrates you.

Patience isn’t your main virtue, you’re learning.

You scrunch your nose and move your brows, trying to get the satin blindfold to shift so you can get a glimpse of something but you hear someone ‘tsk-tsk’. Then a hand slaps your cunt lightly—Price’s hand, it felt the same when he spanked your ass earlier. You writhe and moan as Price occasionally pats your clit while you’re getting fucked, the stimulation causing that dizzying tension in your belly to coil tighter and tighter.

Those thinner, longer fingers that tormented you last night ghost over your lips and you part them. You lay your tongue out flat and then lick the finger that prods at the pointed tip of your tongue. Your lips wrap around two of his fingers and suck lightly, moving your tongue against the undersides. The man doubles over, hips stuttering as he comes. He pulls his fingers free and you wipe the spit from your lips as you say his name—Gaz—softly. He presses a kiss to your lips before pulling away and hopping off the bed.

Either Price or Ghost take Gaz’s place quickly, resuming his pace to keep your arousal from dissipating. You’re hoisted up by four hands and you quickly wrap your arms around the man’s neck. He guides your hips to rock with his as he whispers in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek. Ghost lays you back down as you do what he asks and say his name. He wanted Price to have the final go, to have his fun and to make you come.

You latch onto Price like a leech when he hovers over you. That hour of prepping you taught him exactly what to do, where to press and when. As he pulls out, his thumb moves faster against your clit before slowing as he thrusts in, your back arching and body burning. Sweet praise comes at you from all sides, filling your brain with cotton as you try not to let go too quickly but when Price calls you their ‘sweet pet’, it’s all over. You’re coming around his cock, crying out brokenly as hands move across your body to limit the jerking of your limbs. For a moment everything’s quiet, then a heavy and hot weight is on top of you, panting in your ringing ears.

Price pushes off of you and helps you sit up against a bunch of pillows that are shoved under you. A water bottle is shoved in your face right as the blindfold comes off. You sip at it while you watch Soap, Gaz and Ghost bumble naked around the bedroom to find the wet wipes the apparently bought, and your backup sheets and mattress protector. Price is half holding you as he asks how you feel and if everything was done to your liking. You tell him you’re good but tired, and that it was quite enjoyable. You check in with them, as well, getting smiles along with affirmative answers.

The next thing you know, all four of them are filtering in and out of your shower, quickly washing up and helping you do the same before they tap in the next one. Dinner consists of five different pizzas, a shabby blanket fort in the living room, and a campy horror film that puts you to sleep across their laps halfway through it.

What if I put reader on leave with in an array of dildos and a new vibrator while the guys go on a mission…? I’m thinking some thoughts. Anyways, poor Soap. He hasn’t even come close to making reader come and it makes me so happy. He’s the character I love to be sadistic towards. Last time it was Ghost x Gaz who got her off, now it’s Price. He’ll get his turn eventually…

[sketchquill]

Greetings travelers! Perhaps I may interest you in my Corpse Puppet wares? (  ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

[clownsuu]

Bro, people on TikTok keep saying that they're “nostalgic for the old days of Welcome Home!” and that “Welcome Home was dead but it's coming back now!”

Like dude, Welcome Home has been here for a little less than a year, there's nothing to be nostalgic about, at least not YET.

Fucking hell man, I feel like a Boomer trying to talk to some Gen Alpha kids, they're all thinking that fandoms are suppose to be short-lived, jesus christ.

I don’t blame them too much, since they are not quite used to fandoms naturally descending and are quick to panic that it’s “completely dead”

Specially since the fandom had such a huge flux of community, art and discussions happening everywhere all at once and for it to slowly die down- naturally people will move on to other things and opinions are bound to change while the younger more naive individuals will wonder what’s wrong and create general assumptions that are not entirely accurate

[nonomives]

Here's a little something from that thing I'm working on btw!

I regret telling myself I can draw everything rendered and am now facing the consequence--

(oh and just to clarify pls don't misinterpret it as them being ex-boyfriends of one another, it means they're y/n's ex-boyfriends)

[cakesmelons]

gave up on this half way and just started trying to push through finishing it </3

[xx-sketchy-xx]

Julie gangle

Uh oh, i seem to be making each of them smashed together. Take the blerssed

[killertoons]

Oh LOOK!

wally found some candy while doing some.....chores.....and they resemble his friends in the haunted neighborhood!

What a great day! 🍭🍫🍬......🐛🪦

[demaparbat-hp]

Zuko looked up and locked eyes with his cousin, who was struck speechless. Then, ever so slowly, Lu Ten's lips twitched upwards. And then he smiled. And then he beamed. And then he nodded proudly once, just once, and vanished.

Lu Ten comes back in For the Spirits Chapter VII: Take Me South, only to leave Zuko with more questions than answers. Just how much is he truly aware of? When will he return? What is Zuko going to do now?

(What will the South bring?)

[weevmo]

1st comic for the Welcome Home Fantasy AU! 🍎🎨

How Barnaby first found Wally - - don't worry - things will clear things up in the next one. Just playing with a little idea! What a doll.

Howdy and Barnaby used to travel and work together - even now, they don't see each other too often but always have each other's backs.

[tossawary]

I was thinking about Fandom's Darlings recently because I encountered another case of "Yes, Your Ship Has Become Canon But At What Cost???" in the wild. Which is a mouthful, but I don't have a snappier name for these events in fandom yet.

It's when two characters get together in a story, but... their characterizations get destroyed in the process because the writers apparently 1) can't write solid romance (it's a specific skill!) and 2) also can't fit that romance into the broader story. Often, all of the supporting characters surrounding this shiny couple will ALSO suffer severe characterization damage to make this romance happen. And sometimes the larger plot and even the worldbuilding will also take hard structural hits so the story can focus on this GREAT PASSION that frankly just isn't... executed well.

Like, if a ship I dislike becomes canon, that's one thing, but if the writing for it isn't even semi-competent, that's worse!!! And the really insufferable part is actually the shippers who are not only popping bottles because their ship went canon, but will mock everyone who complains about the bad writing (or tries to earnestly analyze why exactly this conclusion sucks) as "bitter sore losers". I mean, the characters you profess to love have been turned into empty shells of themselves, the canonical partnership here is about as shallow as a puddle, and the integrity of this entire fictional world is on fire, but sure, you "won" this ship war. Congrats.

There is nothing else to do but move on, it's definitely not worth getting into it with anyone. But it REALLY sucks if you actually liked either of the characters involved or maybe even liked the ship itself, because then it's like... "I have been given an enormous cake, but it has been Poisoned. I cannot eat this, for I would choke on it. I have been Betrayed In A Fashion Most Vile." But everyone still sitting at the table tells you that you ought to be happy! At least you got some cake!

[sandflakedraws]

are we confessing? *whispering* i fell in love with your art via The Attic AU and may have saved a bunch of it when people got weird. hope that's not too weird. idk if people are still weird about it. anyway your whump is phenomenal.

eh, occasionally people are still weird about it, but! on the whole, most of the people (and anons) interacting with me have been kind & reasonable <: )

it's honestly something i think i got very lucky with; i've had some pretty sweet followers over the years. it's very humbling, and something i don't mean to take for granted.

,,, also as a bonus for u - floyd hasn't escaped similar treatment

[honeysickledream]

Who's Who, Darling? | TF!141 x F!Reader

cw: fivesome (F/M/M/M/M), blindfolds, oral (f!receiving), fingering, edging, use of safeword, reader gets overstimulated, aftercare, no descriptions of reader or use of y/n | lmk if i missed something [NSFW 18+ minors and ageless blogs DNI]

pairing: TF!141 x F!Reader | reads as the start of Poly!141 x F!Reader at the end

can be found on ao3 too | pt 2

You complain to the guys that your paperwork is never-ending and that it's completely fucked up your dating/sex life. It’s been a month, almost two, since you’ve had a proper day off and properly gotten laid, and it’s destroyed your ability to focus. They offer out of the goodness of their hearts to cover your paperwork for the rest of the year if you can determine who’s who while they fuck you blindfolded. 2-for-1 special right there: no more paperwork the next few months and you get to end your dry spell. A time and place are set, boundaries and expectations agreed upon, and you spend the next day trying to find ways to make identifying them easier for yourself.

It’s not long after they arrive at your place that you’re blindfolded with some random sleep mask Simon grabbed on the way over, and then lying stripped and spread out on the edge of your bed. The night starts with you trying to determine who’s eating you out, and it’s easy at first. You correctly guess Price moments after he starts to lap at your clit. You know it’s him because of the facial hair (the others showed up clean shaven, smart move). Soap is next and you let him have his go a little longer than you let Price. He’s noisy and sloppy, groaning with each drag of his tongue against you, nuzzling your cunt eagerly. You're certain that if the blindfold wasn't there you'd see his face covered in your slick. He complains about you not being fair as he moves away to let whoever was next have his go. The third man’s hard to name—obviously it's either Ghost or Gaz, but whoever it is, they’re too quiet, too smooth, too methodical for you to confidently say a name. Whoever it is stops right before you come and the second one is tapped in when you’ve calmed down just enough. It becomes a cycle: one gets you to the edge before backing off to let the other tease and frustrate you some more. Price and Soap think it’s fucking hilarious how whiny and worked up you’re getting, you’re lightheartedly plotting revenge against those two. It’s not until whoever is currently between your legs slips a finger in you that you’re almost 100% sure you know who it is: Gaz. He’s got the nicest hands out of them, his fingers the longest you think. He slowly pulls his finger out before pressing it back in while sucking at your clit.

There’s a rush of cold air against you when he pulls off and eases another finger into you. It’s Ghost who suddenly lies half on top of you and latches his lips around your clit. He sucks hard before pulling off to nip and pinch and sometimes trace letters against it with the tip of his tongue. Gaz manages to slip a third finger in right before you finally come. Suddenly it’s all too much: your vision black from the mask and now from your climax, the sudden awareness of their eyes on you, the almost suffocating warmth of the room—you’re mumbling out your safeword and their energy shifts. The sleep mask is carefully pulled off your head and you’re hauled up by your arms as Price moves behind you. You’re shaky and sweaty, whining so pitifully that if your brain hadn’t been so full of fuzz, you’d feel a bit of annoyance that they’d gotten you in such a state. He pats your thighs as you flop between his legs, head against his shoulder. Ghost’s cracking open a bottle of water for you, holding it to your lips to let you drink slowly. Gaz is asking you question after question, Soap’s wiping the sweat from your forehead, Price’s hands have moved to massage your shoulders, and Ghost’s opening another bottle of water while confirming that supper will be here in an hour. The only mention of the round two that was supposed to happen comes from Ghost who says it’ll happen some other time, that you did well enough tonight for the paperwork deal to stand and for you to get your much needed rest. They let you get up from the bed once your shaking has faded and your breathing has regulated. You take your time in the bathroom, Gaz occasionally popping his head in to make sure you’re all good. The food arrives at some point, Ghost’s voice carrying through the house as he tips the delivery person and brings the food up to your room.

You’d expected to see them all scarfing down the food, leaving crumbs on your bed and desk, but that’s not the scene at all. Soap and Price are star-fished on your bed, snoring up a storm while Gaz and Ghost discuss plans to renovate your shower to make it big enough for the five of you--the five of you…you really like the sound of that.

You tell them a second water heater will be needed as you riffle through the plastic to-go bags to find something you’ll like. Gaz asks about color schemes—he’s not a fan of the current beige on ocean foam with chrome accents—and Ghost’s mumbling out mathematical formulas for water usage and shower dimensions that make your head hurt a bit.

If they’re serious about it being the five of you (they are), you’ll need a bigger bed, too. Alaskan King, maybe? Oh…you’ll also need to find a deeper, longer couch, too.

a/n: i honestly ran out of smut-writing steam so round two will happen...some other time. my second proper attempt at writing smut, woo...

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Hey, I had a thought for the fantasy au! So on one of the previous versions of the WH website, there was a rhyme for the show that went:

A house is a place with four walls and a floor,

with a ceiling above and a lovely front door.

There's a bed to cradle you safely at night,

and windows to bring in the morning sunlight.

Your house is a mirror of just who you are,

A reflection that tells you to never stray far.

Which I thought might make a good incantation for when Wally properly summons Home (I can't remember if that's ever required for Warlocks but hey, it's still a fun poem regardless).

ohhhh this. i like this...

bonus og sketch! big ol eyes...

& no capalet because uhhhh eh nah and also i wanted Home's pendant to be on full display!

[clownsuu]

Yknow- iv been asked a lot for a while if it’s possible to leave Wally’s mob family-

there’s only one way to truly leave smhh

cw death

✌️

[alice-angel12x]

"Toon Logic" Who Famed AU

Masterlist Here

It is difficult for Diva Wally to Romantically connect people. And for those he holds dear, he only wishes to keep them close. (Inspired by this post by @frillsand) So one can only imagine the struggles he will face when he gets attached to someone or some toon who perceives the world very differently from puppets and Humans, especially Danger.

(Part 2->)

[politemagic]

the boys are back 🖤 (the shitposts never left, though)