#he has to bend down so the twins can reach him loll

[faustian-familiar]

So have you ever wondered what a threesome would be like between a female Apprentice, Lucio and, uh...Lucio?

This smut takes place during the foray into the magical realms, when Lucio is confronted by the visage of his younger self.

I hope you enjoy. 🥺👉👈

The dashing figure glances at me with interest, then sneers at the Count. “Don’t tell me you’re fucking THIS fossil.” I look over at the Lucio beside me to find him seething. The younger one grins at me broadly. “I bet you’d love to see what you missed out on.”

Before I can respond, a strong, slender arm has looped around my waist, and I’m looking up into the face of Lucio as a young man. His lips curl into a roguish smirk.

“Ever kissed a prince before?”

He pulls me close to his body and clamps his mouth over mine. His mouth is hot and searching, kissing me hungrily as his other hand finds the back of my neck and tangles in my hair. His embrace is warm and strong, his body tightly coiled with muscles rippling beneath his clothes as he handles me. A thrill blossoms in my core.

When his tongue darts out to explore me further, my lips part willingly for him, and he presses into the kiss with new fervor; leaning towards me until he has dipped me low, bending at the waist and holding me against him. My thigh slips between his legs, making it easy for me to feel his cock twitch inside his breeches.

When he breaks free from my mouth, I look at the older Lucio. While his shock is apparent, he bites his lip suggestively, and I can see his chest heaving.

It’s turning him on to watch himself.

I arch an eyebrow at him, and my voice is thick with arousal as I beckon him.

“If you think you can do better,” I tease, “I welcome you to try.”

He’s on us in a moment, tearing me from the mercenary’s arms and kissing me fiercely, his hands pawing at the curves beneath my dress. A low, throaty growl escapes him as I catch his lower lip between my teeth and smooth my tongue over it.

I feel my hair moved away from my neck before the younger Lucio presses against my back. His breath is hot on my neck as he whispers huskily into my ear.

“Perhaps you can give us both some feedback.”

His nips gently at the rim of my ear, working his way down to the lobe. Soon his mouth is at my neck, trailing wet kisses down to my shoulder. He pushes the sleeve down to expose my shoulder, and the older Lucio grasps it as it slips down and pulls it farther, sliding the dress over my breasts. His hands grasp at the soft flesh, and he bends to take one of my nipples into his mouth, sliding his tongue languidly over it as his thumb brushes against the other. I turn my head and grab the mercenary by the hair at the back of his head, guiding his kisses back to my lips. He groans into the sensation with needy fervor, and his hips buck, pushing his hardened member against the pliable flesh of my ass.

The younger Lucio moves his hands down to grope at my thighs. I gasp when I feel myself suddenly lifted from the ground, falling back against his chest as he supports me with a strong hand in the crook of my knees.

He spreads my thighs, making the skirt of my dress slip down and expose my underwear. I’m already slick with arousal, now apparent from the damp spot that has collected on the soft fabric. The Count stares down at me spread before him for a long moment, a flush of excitement creeping up his face and ears. He looks up into my eyes. His gaze is eager, even wistful, eyes half-lidded and pupils dilated. He regards me with an obscene smile and drops to his knees.

My underwear is pushed to side, gripped in the Count’s fingers while his other hand moves up to my slit. He strokes my labia softly, his thumb gently spreading my folds apart and coating it with my arousal before he glides up to my clit. He draws a lazy circle with his thumb, making me moan and writhe against the younger Lucio. The Count leans in, only brushing his bottom lip very lightly over the nerves singing for his attention, before kissing my mound and trailing down to suck gently on the inside of my thigh. I try to squeeze my legs together to get friction on my bud, but the mercenary grips me tighter, chuckling softly in my ear and nibbling on the point of my shoulder.

“Let him get you ready for me,” he purrs.

The look that the older Lucio directs at his doppelgänger is venomous, but it prompts him to bury his face between my thighs. His lips wrap tightly around my hood as the flat of his tongue lolls against my clit. I jump in the younger Lucio’s arms and a small cry of pleasure escapes me. The Count chases the sound, swirling his tongue and clamping his mouth down to tug gently. I feel his mouth vibrate as he groans with desire. He teases my hole with a finger, dipping it inside me slowly and making my walls flutter against it. He adds another finger and I pulse, craving the feeling of being filled.

It isn’t long before the mercenary huffs impatiently behind me and he begins to lower me to my feet. We break apart from one another, and I practically keen from the desire.

The younger Lucio unbuckles his breeches with a lurid grin in my direction. His member is straining against his clothes and bobs when it’s finally free, the head glistening with precum. I hear the Count behind me shedding his clothes as well, and glance over to find him gripping his shaft.

Despite his insecurities, the years have been very good to him. His cock is noticeably larger than his counterpart’s.

I sink to my knees in front of them, grasping one erect member in each hand and looking at them in turn as I tug them toward me.

“Can you two play nice?”

They nod eagerly as one, and I take both of the engorged heads into my mouth, slathering my tongue over them to the sound of twin moans. I run the underside of my tongue over one of them, and then the other, relishing the way my ministrations make their cocks twitch between my lips. I look up at their faces, the younger regarding me with lustful intensity, and the older looking nearly desperate with need, and I grasp each by the base of their shaft. I slide my mouth down the Count’s length with excruciating slowness, undulating my tongue until my nose is pressed against his stomach, and pump the younger man’s member with my other hand. The Count throws his head back, moaning earnestly, meeting my rhythm as I bob my head up and down on him. I pull him out and give the head a teasing little lick before turning my attention to the younger Lucio. He reaches down and places his hand firmly on the back of my head, guiding my mouth to his need and bucking his hips. I feel his hardness fill my throat as he slides in and out of my wet mouth with fervent speed. His fingers curl in my hair as he groans, biting his lip as he watches himself being pleasured.

“I want to fuck you,” he growls. “I want to make you scream.”

I pull my lips off of his member and regard how swollen his cock has become, the head a deep pink and gleaming from the skill of my mouth.

I stay on my knees and turn away from them, going down onto my elbows and reaching back with one hand to heft my skirt up around my waist, then hooking my thumb into the waistband of my panties and sliding them down my thighs, revealing my dripping sex.

The younger Lucio is quick to mount me, his hand warm and firm as it grasps my hip. He teases my hole with the head of his cock for a long moment, spreading my lips, and then pushes his length into me. My body responds with delicious ecstasy. My walls shudder against him, as though to bring him deeper, as I whine ardently and arch my back. The Count appears on the ground at my side, laying on his back, smiling with roguish charm with his length in his hand. He arches an eyebrow at me suggestively, and I lift myself up so he can slide underneath me. The younger Lucio begins to thrust into me. I gasp when I feel the Count’s tongue against my bud. He laps at me, sending shockwaves of delight through me with every stroke. His member stands painfully erect, enticingly close to my face, and I cannot resist lowering my mouth onto it and muffling my cries of pleasure. I work up and down his cock, reciprocating the sensations.

His proficiency with my body becomes apparent when heat soon begins to gather in my core. He licks me fast, with brutal passion, the tingling in my nerves becoming more and more keen.

My toes begin to curl.

My words fall out between gasps. “I’m gonna cum- oh Lucio!”

The tension releases explosively, with white-hot intensity, my orgasm coursing through every nerve. I hear myself screaming with bliss, my body trembles, and my walls pulse forcefully around the length inside me. The Count never falters in his ministrations, even when I hear his breath catch and his cock twitches in my mouth. He cums hard, gripping my thighs and convulsing on the ground below me, moaning raggedly with every throb of his orgasm. His hot seed hits the back of my throat as I work it out of him, swallowing until his body goes limp and he sighs with satisfaction.

It’s not into that moment that I realize the mercenary is nowhere to be seen. Lucio and I extricate ourselves from each other and look around curiously. Lucio glances sidelong at me with a quizzical look on his face.

“Uhhh...I guess I won?” he says.

I can’t help but laugh. I brush my thumb across his cheek and smile at him fondly. He blushes under my gaze, looking down at the ground and pressing his cheek into my palm.

“Yeah,” I replied. “I guess this fossil has learned a thing or two.”

He chuckles as he picks up his clothes and we start to get dressed.

[angelicichor]

As a request... What about Thomas and his wifey who both have breeding kinks trying, getting preggers, then having twins or something? Fuck this is actually probably way too specific so if you want, you can cut some shit out. Except that double breeding kink. I love that hc that Tommy has that kink but I never see anything with his woman having one too and i'd like to change that. That's my new years thing. Tommy and Wife both have breeding kink!

You two need to meet up and talk about this very important topic.Also tbh all the thirst for Bubbsy and Tommy? I’m living for it. Big boys need love and affection. 

With this again a female reader.

N//SF//W

Double Breeding Kink

Thomas Hewitt:

♥ There’s a certain aura to Thomas, something in the way the moves, how he smells, you’re not sure, but you know whatever it is, it makes your heart tremble whenever he’s near you.

♥ It’s a very primal feeling, something that makes you embarrassed just to think about it, the way your body craves his touch, affection, his kissing, gripping and biting, you love when your body is covered by his marks, but you can’t bring yourself to admitting it to him.

♥ But it’s never enough, your body screams for you to be close to him, to be touched by him, harder, tighter, closer, so it can absorb that warm that radiates from him, but it’s just not enough.

♥ And it didn’t escape your notice that the same fervor appeared in his movements not long ago. His body seems tenser around you, his touch is way more possessive, grabbing at your hips, abdomen, nuzzling into your neck and letting the leather of his mask to bend into your skin, so he can leave small bite marks on you throughout the day. 

♥ He brings your hands to his face and chest more often, lets them stay in his hair just a bit longer when making love to you, letting you pull him in, so he can loom above you, his dark eyes piercing yours with an unnamed hunger. 

♥ And sometimes he’d be too late to pull out and there was a rush of blood in your head whenever you’d feel him come in you.

♥ Then it clicked, when Thomas was kneeling in front of you, kissing you all the way from your inner tight to your abdomen, stopping, to look at your blushing face and giving you a warm, loving smile, the mask usually covering his disfigured, handsome face long gone.

♥ You wanted him to fuck you, to make you truly his, to dominate you.

♥ And that realization only deepened once your hands slid under his chin, bringing him up, feeling the weight of his body bending the mattress, making you dip, lay below him and absorb the beauty of his body, the pure masculinity it possessed, the power inside.

♥ And you realized - You want his cum to fill your insides, to make you so full it hurts. You wanted him to breed you.

♥“Thomas…” you whispered his name, pulling his face close to yours, kissing the scars on his cheeks, making him sigh under your loving touch. “Thomas. I want…” you hesitated, your cheeks burning a bright red color as you processed what you were about to say, his head tilting to the side slightly with a loving half-smile spread on his face.

♥“I want… your babies.” you whimpered, feeling a shiver run through your spine, as you avoided his gaze, his reaction, ashamed of your own needs. “I-I want you to… to fill me with your come…” you added, pulling your legs up, your body contradicting what you said and thought.

♥ You heard a heavy breath above you and gathering all the courage you could, to look up. And when you did your breath stopped.

♥ You’ve seen him horny before and it’s always quite a sight to behold, but this? 

♥ His chest was heaving with heated breaths, his addam’s apple bobbing with every breath, jaw clenching in a swallow, mouth stuck in a warm smile, but eyes fully focused on you, eating you alive with that predatory stare, his whole body tensing above you as he lowered himself, strands of his hair tickling your face, but almost unnoticeable. 

♥ He’d look at you hungrily before, but now… he was absolutely ravenous.

♥ And to confirm that his mouth slammed into yours in a heated kiss, his tongue quickly overtaking yours, stealing your breath with each repeat.

♥ His hands quickly grabbed the hem of your shorts, ripping them of you in one swift movement, making the buttons pop and it hurt slightly, but you couldn’t protest when one of his hands rubbed against your entrance with quick, impatient motions, the other one sliding under your T-shirt and ripping the clips of your bra. He didn’t want to wait for any stupid bullshit like taking clothes off. 

♥ Your panties were the next to go and once the soft cotton was ripped, he finally parted from you, letting you breathe, your dizzy head lolling back into the bed, unable to focus for a moment.

♥ Just long enough for him to move down and rise your lower half on his shoulders, bringing your wetness to his mouth, giving your cunt one, long stride of his tongue, that pulled you to attention, your elbows pressed firmly into the bed, to keep yourself steady in the new position, your back barely staying on the mattress.

♥ Tommy wasn’t usually the one to enjoy giving you oral, but the way his tongue traced your entrance, drawing painfully slow lines and then replacing them with softer and quicker kisses and sucks made your head spin, it was a shame he didn’t like doing it more often, because damn was that tongue strong, pushing your walls open and drawing sweet moans out of your mouth. 

♥ He wished he could just tell you how happy he was to hear your request, but with his voice only allowing him to occasionally spurt some simple words, the only way he could convey his emotion was pleasing you and he was aware how much you loved him eating you out and with this position your brain quickly turned fuzzy.

♥ Seeing your face redden with dizziness he allowed you to fall slightly onto the bed, not moving his head away from your needy heat, but instead removing one of his hands from your waist to undo his best, pulling his hardened member out of it’s constraints, where it was already struggling for some time. 

♥ You rose to your elbows, giving him a half-aware gaze, whimpering when you saw the pace with which he stroked his length and you realized just how much trouble you were in for what you said to him, but your heart burned with love knowing that his needs were the same as yours and your let your upper part relax, clenching to the white sheets below you with a blessed smile, while your lower part submitted to Thomas’ tongue and mouth, legs twitching in delight.

♥ And when he finally rose, licking his mouth of your juices with a cocky smile, you trembled, taking in his shirtless body, the way his muscles bulged when he breathed, the curling hair coming from his abdomen all the way to his chest, covering it beautifully, but not too thickly, and even the scars on his front seemed alluring to you, reminding you of what he was, what he did and now looking at him you felt as powerless against his touch as his victims were, the only difference being - you loved this feeling. 

♥ The bed creaked as his hands pressed against both sides of your head and following his body your legs rose to his hips, pulling them closer, your heat begging to feel him inside.

♥ A gasp, a shudder as he slid into you effortlessly, making you fell full, strained, even, feeling him bottoming out, each twitch and pulse of his dick making you whimper and he brushed your hair aside to kiss your forehead, before starting to move.

♥ But only the first time was this gentle, his hips swaying you calmly, his eyes taking in your beauty, and you - his. Neither of you spoke this time, letting your bodies and heart do the work, building up a slowly rising knot inside you that was almost soothing. You only picked up pace after you came, Thomas following you shortly, his last movements stuttering and you felt in heaven when he came in you, but didn’t pull out, still grinding inside you slowly, letting the tension come back to him.

♥ And with the second round you knew there was no more going back, as he bit into your throat, sucking on the flesh, leaving a bright pink mark that would later turn purple, then pushing your legs further apart as he moved closer, forcing you to be slightly lifted and thrusted into you almost brutally, keeping that quick, rough pace you knew and loved, making you moan, scream his name into his lips on yours, shaking your whole body and it hurt, but didn’t at the same time.

♥ His left hand found your clit and rubbed it eagerly, sending a shock through your whole body that forced your chest against his and he growled in content, pushing you down and giving you a devious smirk which you returned with your loving one, letting him force you into another orgasm, so much stronger than the first one. 

♥ And you knew this was going to be a long night.

♥ At some point you lost count how many times you’ve reached your peak compared to him, but when he finally pulled out of you, you couldn’t be more happy, feeling his thick seed spilling out of you as he pulled you in closer, both of you exhausted. 

♥ Still, he pinched your side, making you yelp and with a hearthy but quiet laugh he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, whispering one, sweet word:

♥“Mine.”

Bubba Sawyer:

♥ Bubba wanted something from you.

♥ You could tell as much by the way he’s been circling you the whole day and you realized what it was when you’ve been wiping your hands into a towel in the kitchen after just having washed the dishes. 

♥ That was when his huge arms came from behind you and locked you in front of the kitchen counter, the weight of his body making you bend slightly onto it and you heard his whimper with his forehead resting on your shoulder, drilling into it softly.

♥ You moved back slightly, wanting to turn around to hug this poor boy, who seemed to need your affection.

♥ But then your butt touched his pants.

♥ And you gasped.

♥ Your cheeks turned red, realizing that the attention he was craving wasn’t the usual innocent one, but something more... adult.

♥ And he confirmed, his hips rutting against your side, pressing you further onto the wooden surface, bending you over slightly, whimpering softly against you, begging you to return his touch in his own way, his hands covering yours, careful not to crush them and your mind wandered at their size and warm roughness.

♥ The others were gone for tonight, both of you knew that, but there was still work to be done before they returned and you didn’t want to get into another argument with Drayton, but...

♥ But your body screamed at you to accept this huge man behind you, kissing your neck in a soft, pleading manner, melting your heart and making your insides twitch with his hips, his erection pressed hard against your ass, and you could tell it was a bad one just by the way it hurt slightly whenever he ground. 

♥ And you knew you couldn’t resist him today.

♥ “You’re being naughty, you know that?” you sighed, pressing harder against him, a shudder running through his body to his hands, that closed around yours, forcing your fingers to curl into your palm. “So everybody’s gone and you think you can just do me in the kitchen?” he whimpered at your accusation, resting his head on your shoulder and you could feel the way the heavy butcher’s muscles tensed on your back. Bubba was fatter, that’s true, but under that there was solid muscle, gained with years of hard work and you adored how powerful it felt, contrasting his gentle nature. 

♥ “Well...” you tried to move your hands up and he let you, but not without a soft whine. You brought them back to your skirt. “Maybe you can...” A quiet chuckle purred in your throat as your fingers digged into your skirt, catching the underwear too and with only a bit of hesitation and embarrassment you bared your rear to the masked giant.

♥ His reaction was almost instantaneous, pushing his own pants down and throwing his apron away in a rush before pressing on your back with more power, his erection pressing along your pussy, caught between your thighs and you shuddered at the heat coming from it.

♥ “Someone’s excited.” you laughed and he nodded eagerly, rutting against your slick, forcing you even more forward onto the counter, as he shifted to rest on his elbows, letting you lie down on your arms, enjoying the not so subtle foreplay, biting your lip at his tip brushing against your clit. 

♥ It didn’t take long for both of you to be wet, panting messes, your nails digging into his forearms, trying to control your shaking hips and to keep yourself from hitting the wood with your hip bones as he messed up your tights with his pre-cum and your dripping heat. You pressed the back of your head against his chest and for a second he stopped, pulling back, reading your body, letting your hand pull one of your ass-cheeks apart for him and babbling at your invitation he aligned his cock and slid right inside you, letting you return to your previous position, before starting to move inside you.

♥ The feeling of his thickness inside you made your whole body burn with new found passion and with each thrust you could feel your legs giving in slightly, but feeling that he wrapped one of his arms around your middle, keeping you in place as he pumped your insides, earning himself your sweet moans and whimpers.

♥ You were actually surprised by how long he held out, before you felt his cock throbbing inside you anxiously and you could feel your lust taking over, just this once it would be okay, right? It would be fine to just... let go, right?

♥ “Bubba, sweetie...” your sentence was cut for a moment because of a rougher thrust, he did love when you called his name. “Come inside me, baby, oh, please!” You wanted to be calm but his fast pace wouldn’t let you. “Please, fill me with your cum, sweetheart!” you cried, letting your head fall onto your forearms, loosing your voice to your own panting breath and moaning. 

♥ And you could swear he’d gotten even harder, but that couldn’t be, could it?

♥ Except you knew it could the moment he hit your pelvis, sending a wave of shock over your body, pain mixed with pleasure, scream leaving your lips.

♥  Luckily for you it was a one-time accident, his hurried kisses assured you so as he came deep inside you, making you feel even more full with his thick load.

♥ You sighed in absolute bliss feeling him spill inside you and sadness at the thought you would soon be feeling empty again.

♥ Except it took him exceptionally long to pull out.

♥ And with another thrust you realized.

♥ Oh, he’s into this too...

[theshrubbery]

Chapter 8!

BAZ

“Pumpkin picking?” Snow sounds incredulous. I stare at him blankly.

“Yes, Snow,” I say. “Pumpkin picking.”

“But why?” He presses, as though pumpkin picking is some great offence to him. We’re sitting on the sofa Snow insists on sleeping on at the end of my bed. We’re sharing a plate of toast between us, though Snow is eating the bulk of it without even realising. He’s like a machine.

“Because it’s nearly Halloween and there’s a perfectly good pumpkin patch fifteen minutes away in the car?” He blinks, opens his mouth, and then closes it again. He’s quiet for a few moments before he replies.

“I’ve never been pumpkin picking,” he mumbles, looking down at the toast in his hand. “I always wanted to.”

“Then there we go.” I nod, trying to mask the clench in my chest at his admission behind assuredness. “Perfect opportunity, isn’t it?”

“I… Guess so?” He says it as more of a question than an answer, like he’s still rolling the idea of pumpkin picking with me over in his head.

“Right, well, I’m done with the toast—” I push the plate closer to him and stand “—eat up and come downstairs when you’re ready.” He looks at me as though he’s going to say something, and then quickly away again.

I leave him to it and go downstairs. I catch sight of my father in the sitting room as I pass. He’s smiling and talking to Mordelia. He looks up and sees me and his smile falters, his eyes glaze a little, but he doesn’t look as angry as I’d thought he might, and I continue past him to get my coat and Snow’s from the hallway closet.

I hear footsteps thudding towards me as lean into the closet to get the coats but the open door is blocking me from seeing who it is. Of course, as embarrassing as it is, I don’t really need to use my eyes to know who it is. I could recognise Snow’s oaf-like gait anywhere.

“That was quick,” I say to him before I’ve even turned around to look. He coughs.

“Your bedroom freaks me out.” His voice is muffled, like he’s talking around something and—yes, he has a mouthful of toast I see as I turn to face him, very much hoping my face conveys my best unimpressed expression.

“Snow, you’re a mess.”

He shrugs and looks faintly embarrassed. I pass him his coat and we go to wait for the rest of my family to be ready.

Pumpkin picking has been a yearly tradition for my family since I was old enough to walk. Some of my earliest memories are of my mother and I scouring for the largest possible pumpkin, cutting it free at the stalk and then laughing as we forced my father to carry it back to the car. It’s never been quite the same since mother died. Father’s heart has never quite been in it. Mordelia and the kids love it though, and the consistency of it is reassuring and grounding.

I’m looking forwards to it today more than I have in a long time, I’ve thought about a million and one ways in which I could somehow take Snow with me sometime. Oddly enough, fake-dating has never crossed my mind.

Snow doesn’t seem that impressed. Or maybe he is. I don’t know. I’m not quite sure how to interpret the radio silence he’s dealing me.

“Alright, Snow?” I ask him. I look away from the road for a moment to glance at him. He’s been fidgeting and shifting for the whole of the five minutes we’ve been driving so far. I insisted I take me and Simon in our own car. I didn’t want to be stuck in an enclosed space with father and Simon both. I hope father interprets it as a couple-thing and not an I-want-you-to-leave-me-alone thing.

“Yeah, fine.” He looks quickly to me and then away again. Tucks his hands under his legs and then pulls them back out to pick at the loose threads at the cuffs of his coat. I turn down the radio a little, hopefully so that Snow knows I’m serious. There’s a David Bowie song playing, it’s Fiona’s, and I should have known something was up when Snow didn’t use that as an excuse to insult me as a super-fan after finding that t-shirt.

“You’re very quiet.” I start drumming my fingers nervously against the steering wheel before I realise I’m picking up on Snow’s anxious energy, and I force myself to stop.

“Am I?” It’s very clear that Snow’s forcing himself to sound surprised. I wish he’d just talk to me. “I didn’t even realise. Nosey bastard, you, aren’t you?”

“Stop avoiding the question,” I say firmly. Snow clears his throat quietly and pushes himself back in the seat, lolling his head to the side to look at the rolling countryside out the window.

“I’m fine,” he repeats. I feel uncomfortable pushing him any more than that. We’re enemies, after all, sworn nemeses. Or at least that’s what Snow thinks we are. I can’t have him thinking I care about him now, can I? Or maybe I can. I’m not sure anymore. Snow and I, our lines have always been very clearly drawn in the sand but, lately, it’s as though the tide has come in and blurred them. I have no idea where I stand with him now. It is, frankly, terrifying.

I leave him alone for the rest of the drive and turn the music back up. Bowie gives way to Fleetwood Mac just as we’re pulling onto the pumpkin patch and The Chain cuts abruptly out at the chorus as I turn the engine off.

“Right then,” I sigh. “Here we are.” Snow’s expression is unreadable and I wait for him to get out of the car before I follow, grabbing the bag with our saws in from the backseat before I do. My father and the rest of the family is already here. The twins are hyper and Mordelia even more so. I’m parked diagonally from father, behind him, and he looks over the roof of his car at me as I go round the side of my own and take Snow’s hand. He startles a little, like he wasn’t expecting it. His hand is clammy and his fingers keep twitching. He seems incredibly anxious over something.

Father turns away and offers his arm to Daphne, who links her own through his, and they head into the patch.

“Come on then, Snow. It’s pumpkin time.” I smile at him, hoping I can ease his nerves just a little. He gives me a wobbly sort of smile and nods. His hand squeezes mine just a little tighter as we begin to walk and I pretend not to notice. I wonder if he’s changed his mind about all of this after what’s happened. After my father. After that kiss. After my stupid breakdown. I really hope he hasn’t, but I would understand if he had.

The gravel of the car park crunches under our feet as we walk over to the field. There’s a thick wooden gate at the entrance and I let go of Snow’s hand to push it open. I hold it open with my back, and tuck one arm against me as I bend in a mock bow for him, gesturing to the field with my other hand. I can hear my father’s distant scoff. Or perhaps I’m so used to his scorn that my brain is now filling in the blanks. It doesn’t matter. I’m doing this for Snow, not for him, but he doesn’t need to know that. Snow smiles a little and I only just manage to stop myself from grinning back. Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch does not grin. I have the meagre shreds of my image to maintain.

“Stop being a twat, c’mon.” He snorts. Snow still isn’t shining as bright as he usually does, but at least he’s still in there. I really just want to know what’s wrong. It’s difficult to navigate where I stand with him when there are so many layers and complications.

Snow lightens up a little when he gets a good look at the pumpkins. I knew it, he’s a complete child at heart. I grab him by the arm as he makes to go venturing off into the depths of the field.

“Hang on a second,” I tell him, “you need something to cut your pumpkin with.” I sling my bag from my shoulder to my front and unzip it. I hand him a saw, covered with a safety cap, and then send him on his way. Maybe he just needs some space, I figure, so I let him go on his own for a while. I don’t even think he realises I’m walking away and picking a different path through the field, he’s so captivated by the pumpkins.

“Only one!” I shout at him when he starts looking between three pumpkins. He’s close enough that he can hear me shout but far enough to have his own space. I realise that this distance may be causing my father suspicion but Snow’s wellbeing is far more important to me at the moment.

I’ve left Snow for all of five minutes when I look over and see him wrestling with the safety covering on the saw. It has one of those child-lock contraptions built in, and, apparently, also Simon Snow-proof. So I start picking my way over to him, walking in this strange high-knee way so that I don’t trip over and make a fool of myself. I call out to him as I get closer and hold out a hand for the saw.

“I can do it myself!” He says defensively. I sigh.

“Obviously not.” I give the child-look a pointed look. “Pass it here, I’ll do it.”

“No, I can do it myself!” Snow pulls the saw closer to his chest at the same time I make a grab for it and although my hand rushes through empty air, Snow takes a jerky step backwards and his arms begin to windmill as the back of his ankle catches against the very pumpkin he’d chosen to cut.

“The saw!” I shout as I launch towards it again. Only Snow could fall and impale himself on a saw with a safety covering, I just know it, and it wasn’t a risk I was willing to take. Reaching out, I snatch the saw from him and yank him forwards with my other hand, underestimating the full potential of Snow’s clumsiness as that then redirects his falling trajectory towards myself.

“Oof!” Snow gasps as we tumble to the ground. He’s straddling me. It’s the pillow fight all over again albeit roles reversed. The saw lays discarded to the side and Snow’s hands cage my head in. His cheeks begin to get rosy, rosier, and then a blatant red that would be ugly on anyone else. Simon Snow could pull anything off.

His eyes are wide, the pupils blown, the blue iris a thin ring. There’s a sort of dazed expression on his face, like his exterior has glazed over, frozen, whilst he deals with whatever’s going on in that brain of his. I wonder if I look the same. He’s so close to me I could probably see the reflection of myself inside his eyes but I don’t want to see myself right now. I want to see Simon, I only want Simon, I don’t care that there’s twigs in my hair and stones digging into my back, I could lay here forever if it meant I’d never have to relinquish this moment.

Simon Snow’s head tilts. His breath stutters. He swallows and glances from my eyes to my lips. I feel like my body is igniting, my heart hammering, sweat prickling over my skin, adrenaline blanking out my thoughts. Simon leans a little further down towards me. He’s looking at my mouth still. Is this wishful thinking? Am I imagining this? Is this an act for my father? Surely he can’t…

He leans further down and his breath fans gently across my cheek as he gets closer… closer… and I think I’m going insane with want. I’ve never felt anything like this. I’ve never wanted anything, anyone, so badly it hurts in the way I want Simon. I hope I’m not dreaming. I hope he’s going to kiss me.

Maybe, just maybe, Simon Snow wants me just as badly as I want him.

It’s taking everything I have not to lean up and meet him halfway. Everything I have to give him the time to pull away, the time to change his mind. We’ve come so far, I can’t scare him off now.

A moth flutters between us and thus the moment is broken. I wish I could say something poetic about it, but there’s nothing even vaguely poetic about the way Snow squeals and scrambles away from me, and especially nothing poetic about the way his knee collides with my crotch.

“My fucking balls, Snow!” I cry, shoving him the rest of the way away from me and hunching over.

“Fuck! Moth! Sorry!” Snow shouts as he tries to frantically bat the moth away from us. In his mad scramble, he trips over another pumpkin and lands flat on his arse. I want to be mad at him, or at east annoyed. I really do. But I can’t. I burst out laughing, ignoring the look of shock on his face, whatever that means, and reach over the pumpkin to help him up to his feet.

“You’re such an idiot.” I smile down at him. He smiles back at me and my heart melts just a little. Snow’s hand is warm and clammy in mine, I can feel dirt smearing between our palms and fingers from where he had his hands on the ground, I can’t really bring myself to care. Not when there’s a chance Simon likes me back. I grin.

SIMON

The sun is setting outside the window by the time we finish in the pumpkin field. It’s turning a really nice kind of golden yellow and all the pumpkins look fit to turn to carriages. I’m sure Baz would have something more romantic to say about it all but I’m not Baz. I’m also trying not to think of Baz. Except he’s sitting next to me and I just tried to kiss him. I didn’t even have the excuse I was acting for his dad—Baz seemed into it, though. Or at least I hope he was. I hope I haven’t just ruined everything we’ve built.

I feel like we get along better than before, like being forced to pretend we’re boyfriends has finally opened some sort of channel of communication between us. Baz has always been my enemy, but for the first time in my life, I’m wondering if that’s how it always has to be.

“You hungry?” Baz asks, and I look down at the pumpkin weighing my lap down. It’s comforting, the weight of it, it feels grounding. I’ve named it Keith, Baz thinks I’m ridiculous but I think Baz is ridiculous so that doesn’t really bother me. I’m not taking name advice by someone whose first name is Tyrannus.

“McDonald’s,” I say. Half because I fancy a BigMac and half because I want to see what Baz’s reaction to it is, the posh bastard. He raises an eyebrow and scoffs, glancing quickly from the road to me and then back again. I wish he’d look at me forever. Fuck, that’s really gay isn’t it? Am I gay? I must be. Fuck. I’ll think about this later, I decide, I’m hungry right now.

“I like McDonald’s,” I defend.

“We literally have cooks at home that could make you anything you want, literally anything,” Baz says bluntly. “But no, McDonald’s, cheap, nasty, greasy fast food. That’s Simon Snow all over, that is.”

“You asked what I want! I want a BigMac. And fries. Also a Mcflurry.”

“Snow, it’s freezing.”

“McFlurry!”

“Right. Right, fine, McDonalds it is,” Baz acquiesces, flicking the indicator up to change lanes. “honestly Snow, it’s a wonder you’re not the size of a house all this fucking shit you eat.”

“Oi! It’s cheap and it tastes great, I don’t see the problem.” I clutch Keith the pumpkin defensively closer to me.

“The problem is it’ll kill you.” Baz deadpans, but he turns into the drive thru anyways.

“Meh.” I flop one hand towards him. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

Baz turns to look at me with this sort of hopelessly fond look, I hope I’m interpreting it right. I really, really hope I am. Then he shakes his head and runs a hand down his face, huffing out a laugh and rolling down his window.

“BigMac, fries, and McFlurry!” I chant quickly at him.

“Yes, yes I know, be quiet now.”

Baz’s house was surprisingly not that far from McDonald’s. I wasn’t sure why but I wasn’t expecting Baz to live anywhere within a five-mile radius of one considering his reaction, as though the greasiness of the fries would pervade his senses and clog his arteries from that close a proximity.

We’re sitting on his bed now, as we always seem to be, and I’m picking at my fries. They’re surprisingly still pretty hot. Baz shifts opposite me, looking a little uncomfortable, and it makes me feel a little sick that he might be thinking about me nearly kissing him earlier.

“What did you think of the pumpkin picking?” He asks, sounding uncharacteristically unsure. Baz always put on a front about even the smallest things. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or feel about all this vulnerability I’ve been shown. I don’t know how to cope with seeing Baz so human.

“It was pretty good,” I say, nodding. It’s true. It was pretty good. For reasons I’m not sure I want to talk about with him yet and I jump as though I’ve actually alluded to the almost-kiss out loud; I stumble to correct myself.

“Uh—I mean—” I quickly chew and swallow the couple of fries in my hand “—isn’t the whole point of me being here to act couply in front of your dad? Why are we hiding up in your room all the time anyways?”

Baz doesn’t look up at me as he replies. “I think my father already saw enough of that from us today.” He slides a single fry out his box and chews absently on it. I watch the shapes his mouth makes and feel heat coil amongst the butterflies in my stomach. “It’s a family tradition, pumpkin picking.” He says, changing the subject a little.

“Did you used to go with your mom?” I ask, unwrapping my burger and trying to act more casual than I feel. I think it’s working.

Or at least I think so until Baz visibly tenses, pausing with a fry halfway to his mouth, and my heart drops a little. Before I can try and rectify whatever fuck-up I’d made, though, he carries on as though nothing happened. I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels the change in the atmosphere, though, the sudden heaviness of it.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “We went every year.” I feel like I shouldn’t push the boundaries any further but I feel like I’ve been getting so much closer to Baz lately and I have this weird feeling, like I want to know him better than anyone else does, better than even himself. I want to know him inside and out. Maybe that’s what love does. I don’t even know if I am in love, I don’t even know if I want to be. I watch as Baz tucks his hair behind his ear and it’s a struggle to remind myself that he’s only being nice to me because we agreed to this whole stupid fake dating thing.

“Do you miss her?” I ask, and then force a massive bite of my burger. The force of it squeezes the sauce out of the back and I rush to catch it in my mouth before it falls on Baz’s bed. I brace myself for his comment, but it never comes. He’s still not even looking at me. He’s not even eating anymore. I wonder if I’ve crossed the line.

“Of course,” he says quietly. “Every day.”

“I don’t even remember my mom,” I tell him, trying to be as open with him as he is with me. “Or my dad, for that matter.” I shrug. “All I remember is care homes.”

Baz is silent for a few tense moments, then he sighs and tips a few more fries into his mouth. “We’re a right pair, aren’t we?”

I laugh, but it’s humourless. We really are.

“They never caught them, you know. My mother’s killers.”

“You don’t have to tell me this,” I assure him quickly. That’s when he looks at me, really looks at me. Makes such intense eye contact I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. It feels like there’s nothing else in the world. It feels like I can see straight through to his fucking soul and I wonder if he can see mine, too.

“I still have nightmares about it.” He continues, without looking away, blinking only once. He sounds quietly desperate, like the words are bursting out of him.

“I know.” I put my burger down. “I’ve been sharing a room with you for nearly a decade.”

“They… kept me locked away. It felt like a coffin. It might’ve been. I don’t even… I don’t know if they were a cult or what, but they sure acted like one. Locked me away for a week. It was horrible. I’ve never forgotten it.”

“Baz…” I really don’t feel like eating anymore. “Baz, you really don’t need to tell me this.” Baz shakes his head, finally breaking the eye contact and holding a hand over his eyes, bowing his head and propping the elbow on his knee. I’m half-scared that he’s going to cry again but he doesn’t.

“It’s fine, Si—Snow. It’s fine. Why should I try and hide it when it was all over the news anyways?” I notice his hands are beginning to tremble and before I can even think about it I’m reaching towards him. The fuck am I thinking? I panic and pull my hand back before I really make this weird. He’s confiding in me as a friend, and I’m about to scare him off. Baz is only pretending to like me, I need to remember that. I’m the only one that’s really initiated anything, if he liked me back I’d know.

“Are you okay?” I ask instead. I want to hold him, hug him, I want to tell him I love him.

“Fine.” He pushes his hair back and looks back up at me with a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Maybe we should get an early night,” I suggest when I see the dark circles beneath Baz’s eyes. He looks tired even though I know he’s been sleeping. Maybe it’s stress. I close the BigMac box and motion for Baz’s rubbish. He gathers it up, drops it all into his paper bag and hands it to me.

“Just put it in the corner,” he says as I make to leave the room. I turn around to look at him where he sits hunched, facing away, on the bed. I don’t mention the fact it’s going to stink the room up, just do as he says and then walk round to the sofa at the end of Baz’s bed.

“Wait—” Baz suddenly interrupts, almost violently, as he rushes to the end of the bed and grabs my wrist. I freeze as soon as his clammy hand squeezes my arm. His face is a wild kind of desperate and I wish more than ever that I knew what was going through his head. “Stay. Please, I mean—”

“Okay.” I cut him off before he can finish rambling. “Okay.” And I crawl up onto the bed next to him. He watches me as I get under the covers on the side I know he doesn’t usually sleep. I try not to give myself away, try to act as casual as I can, try not to read into any of this.

But it’s hard when Baz smiles shakily and climbs into bed next to me, both of us still fully dressed but apparently forgoing pyjamas.

It’s even harder when I can feel the heat from his body radiating towards me and I can smell his hair.

Hardest when he sighs in his sleep and clenches a large hand in my t-shirt, right above my heart.

[fakexface]

Track 3: Xanny

Author’s Notes: Uh yeah uh this is pretty much just smut. That's it. Larry takes a Xanax and has stoned sex at a party with an OC of mine, Autumn. Smut isn't my forte but... The world needs more Larry Johnson smut. They're both over the age of 18 here. I do not condone the taking of random pills that may or may not be laced with god knows what at parties. Always have a friend that will be sober the entire night with you just in case. Okay. Don't drive buzzed or drunk or stoned. Forgive me Father for I have SINNED. Track 1: !!!!!!! Track 2: Bad Guy

“I'm in their second-hand smoke; still just drinking canned coke.”

           The party was already in full-force by the time they arrived. Ashley met them outside, a red cup in her hand with god knows what in it; Sal didn’t come, instead staying back at the house with Todd and Neil and Aaron. Autumn didn’t mind- she knew this was in no way Sal’s preferred place. Too many people, too much chaos, too much everything.

           Larry had picked her up in his mother’s truck; she’d almost ran late. Maple hadn’t been much help, either, when it came to her outfit selections. In the end, she decided on a black sweater dress and a pair of red thigh high socks and a pair of black, knee high boots. And to her surprise, Larry had gotten “dressed up”, as well; gone was the tan Sanity’s Fall shirt and old jeans. No, instead he wore a black v-neck tee and a pair of acid wash jeans.

           “I almost feel bad for being so late,” Autumn mumbled as she slid out of the truck, glancing around. “How’d you find out about this?”

           “Ash. Some kids from her art class at the college talked about it,” Larry replied with a crooked smile, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. “And college kids throw the best parties. Especially rich college kids.”

           “Which is why we’re in the town over.” Ash joined in, walking on Autumn’s other side. “Drinks are free for all; make them yourself!” She called as she disappeared into the crowd.

           The scent hit her almost immediately, a wall of sweat, sex, booze and weed. Nose scrunching up, she glanced around; people were mainly lingering, talking, laughing. But music played- a deep, rumbling bass that shook the floorboards and reverberated within her chest.

           “Damn,” Larry murmured, his arm slipping down from her shoulders to her waist. “They’ve got a killer sound system here.”

           “You’re tellin’ me,” she shook her head, glancing up at him. This was also his scene- he was extroverted more than she was. Stormy hues slipped across the foyer, taking in the low lighting, the smoke lingering in the air. “I’m gonna get some drinks.”

           “You, drinking?”

           “’m gonna get water, an’ you’re getting something that doesn’t have a lot of alcohol.”

           His lips turned down in a pout. “Party pooper.”

           “I can’t drive stick.”

           “… Good point. I’ll find you?”

           That had been nearly twenty minutes ago. But in that time, she’d found herself a closed bottle of water in the fridge, and grabbed Larry a simple Miller Lite. He liked beer. He didn’t get vodka. Not tonight.

           She’d also ended up finding people she knew from some of her classes. But the biggest surprise? Seeing a pair of stormy blue hues a shade lighter than her own, messy brown hair, and blond hair that was normally combed to perfection. Dancing. Close. Very close.

           She’d had to do a double take.

           Aaron did come to the party- and with a friend, it seemed. She couldn’t help but grin; her twin brother had been crushing on Travis for far too long. How he’d managed to convince him to come to a college party an hour away from Nockfell and dance, she’d never know. Or, well, she’d find out tomorrow.

           A glance to her phone’s screen showed that it was almost eleven thirty- they’d arrived at eleven. Had Larry gotten lost? Had something happened? Worry tugged at the edges of her mind; she was ready to dial his number when familiar hands gripped her hips. “Have I told you that this dress makes your body look downright sinful?” He murmured against her ear as he pressed against her back.

           A shudder danced through her as he squeezed. “Once or twice. Why’d you think I wore it?” Turning in his grip, she leaned back slightly, studying his face. His pupils weren’t blown, but… “… What’d you take?”

           “Nothing- not yet.” He flashed a dangerous grin as he held up a small, rectangular pill. A bar.

           Surprise had her brows raising. “That’s- a benzodiazepine? Xanax?” She squinted, trying to see the word etched into the pill.

           “Yep.”

           “… And you’re gonna take it?”

           “… Yep.”

           “… If we wreck because I don’t know stick, it’s your fault.”

           He flashed her a wicked grin before opening his mouth, tongue lolling out. He placed the pill on it, took hold of her water bottle, tilted his head back and stole a drink, swallowing the pill.

           “You’re awful.”

           “The worst, baby.�� He agreed, winking.

           “You don’t know if that was laced with anything!”

           “Well, we’re gonna find out, aren’t we?”

           Shaking her head, she grabbed hold of his hand. “You’re dangerous.”

           “Says you,” he replied with a slow smirk, his gaze trailing down from her eyes, lingering on her lips. “Let’s dance.”

           “Aaron’s here.” She stated, nodding towards the pair.

           “… Is that… Holy shit is that Travis?” He wheezed, his eyes wide as he took in the sight. “Who knew church boy…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

           “All he needed was to get outta Nockfell…”

           Larry hummed, pressing closer as he reached up to tilt her head back towards him. “So,” he murmured, dipping down to ghost his lips across hers. “Let’s go.”

           “Go?” She echoed, pulling back, a brow raising before realization hit. “Larry, no,” she began, only to be cut off by a gasp leaving her lips as his thigh slid between hers, pressing, rubbing. “Larry I swear to God-”

           “C’mon, no one will miss us… And there are plenty of bedrooms upstairs…” His lips trailed across her jaw, down to her neck, lingering. “And you want this.”

           “You’re stoned.” She argued weakly, brow furrowing as he shifted his thigh.

           “Not really. It was a low dose- you know I’ve taken more than just that.” He pulled back, reaching up to brush her hair back from her face. “C’mon, ‘Tum.”

           Stormy hues glanced around- Ash was nowhere to be seen, her brother didn’t even realize they were in the same room… It wouldn’t hurt… Right? “I blame circumstance for this.” She decided before grabbing his hand and pulling him along, ignoring the laugh he let out.

           “Maybe you should have taken one. I have another…”

           “I’m taking a hard pass on that.”

           They took the stairs quickly, disappearing to the second floor. Larry took the lead, then, going from room to room, checking the doors. “They’re all-” he began to pout, bottom lip jutting out until she slid to her knees beside the door.

           “Gimme your wallet,” she demanded, holding out a hand. He didn’t hesitate, pulling it out of his pants and setting it in her hand. “If this has a spring-latch or a slanted-latch, we’ll be in luck…”  She mumbled as she pulled his license out. Pressing a hand against the door, she pushed as hard as she could on it while using her other hand to slide the card into the gap between the doorknob and the door, dragging it down until it was at an almost 90 degree angle with the doorknob. She stuck her tongue out as she tilted the end of the card facing her towards the doorknob before bending it quickly the other way, causing it to slip under the end of the slant-latch. A soft cheer escaped her as the door opened.

           “Holy shit,” Larry grinned, taking his license and wallet back as she rose to her feet. “How’d you learn how to do that?”

           “My bedroom used to be on the second floor of our house, and I didn’t wanna jump out the window, so I learned how to do that. I can do it with a bobby pin, too.” A shrug as she pushed the door open farther, revealing a bedroom.

           Larry wasted no time, stepping in and pulling her in with him before closing the door behind them. He turned on her, looking her over before backing her into the door. His hands gripped her hips as he stole her lips in a searing kiss. She reached up, tangling her fingers in his hair, tugging enough to get a pained noise from his lips.

           “Bed. Not against a wall.” She whispered into the kiss. He made a noise of agreement and pulled back, fully expecting her to follow. But she didn’t. Instead, she leaned back against the door with a smirk. “Go lay on the bed.”

           Twenty minutes later, he had her undressed to her underwear. The Xanax was taking effect, making his movements slower, more relaxed. Or, it would, if she wasn’t currently kissing the head of his dick. Her tongue darted out in a kitten lick, stormy hues closed, listening to the soft noises Larry let out.

           He always was vocal in bed.

           She liked that about him.

           His hands were tangled in her hair, not pulling, just resting, holding. His eyes were closed, lips open to release those wonderful soft noises as she opened her mouth and began to take more of him in. Times like these, she was glad for her almost non-existent gag reflex.

           After all, he was big- not outrageously so, but proportionate to his body size. Bigger than some of the others she’d had in the past.

           She curled her tongue around him, drawing forth a startled moan as the piercing dragged along the heated, sensitive flesh. He gasped out, his hands tightening in her hair. She couldn’t quite tell what he’d said as she swallowed around him- some bastardized mixture of “Oh, God,” and her name.

           “That’s a good boy,” she murmured hoarsely as she pulled back, her hand taking over, stroking him with long, even pulls. His hips shifted on the bed, wanting more. She took her time, looking him over- completely naked, his chest was flushed, his cheeks were rosy, his hair spread out around his head like a dark halo. He looked like sin incarnate in that moment, with his eyes wide and pupils blown. “Are you a good boy?” She asked sweetly, tilting her head to the side.

           “Yes, yes,” he nodded, licking his lips.

           “Good.” Pulling her hand away, she listened as he whimpered. “I’m gonna ride you,” she spoke with confidence; it wasn’t often that she was able to take control. Normally, he was in control. But now? Now, he was soft and pliable and sweet and damn it all, she loved it.

           She shimmied off the bed before peeling her panties off; reaching behind herself, she unclipped her bra, letting it fall to the ground to join the rest of their clothes. A glance over her shoulder to make sure that yes, the door was locked again.

           “Baby,” Larry whined, reaching out for her.

           “Yes?” She crooned, taking his hand in her own as she climbed back onto the bed. His gaze raked across her skin, drinking in the eternally tanned tone, the freckles across the tops of her shoulders, the scar across her left ribs from an accident when she was younger.

           He reached up, brushing his fingers against that scar. “You’re beautiful.”

           “You’re stoned.”

           “True.”

           She leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss as she settled into his lap, straddling his hips. Reaching down, she ghosted her hand across herself, drawing a soft gasp out of her lips before she took hold of him, a wonderful groan leaving his lips. Carefully, she guided him in, in, in, her head tilting back as she sank down onto him slowly.

           His hands went to her hips as if second nature, helping her, holding her still as she adjusted. They’d had a little bit of foreplay, yes- but the stretch was always there, no matter how many times they did this. “I never,” she began, shaking her head as sparks of pleasure danced along her skin, “would have thought that we’d be the co-couple to be fucking at someone else’s house.”

           He shifted his hips, giving a small thrust- testing the waters. “Yet here we are.” He replied as she adjusted her hips, getting comfortable. She reached back, bracing her hands on his thighs as she began a slow roll that had them both moaning. “You’re worse than I am,” he muttered, fingers flexing on her hips.

           “And how, oh-, how am I?”

           “Because,” he gave a stronger thrust, listening to the gasp that escaped her. “You planned this.”

           “I did not!”

           “You- fuck- did. Why else would you have had lube? And a condom?”

           She fell silent, shame coloring her cheeks as she looked away. “Shut up.”

           He laughed, a full, warm sound. “I love you.”

           “I love you- oh, fUCK,” she jolted as he took over the pace, pulling her down to meet him thrust for thrust. There went any sort of control she had over the situation; her head fell back as she rocked her hips, ignoring the burning in her thighs.

           Neither of them would last long, not at this rate.

           Not after the teasing that had occurred on the drive over, her hand creeping along his thigh while he drove, his fingers brushing against her folds as she read out the directions to him.

           They had both been planning on this.

           Sharp, pointed acrylic nails scratched across a tanned chest, drawing a pleased hiss from Larry’s lips as he snapped his hips up into her once, twice, three times before she collapsed against his chest, unable to do anything other than hold on as he took over. Blunt nails dug into her hips as he held her in place.

           Loud. They were being too loud, she thought distantly, but was unable to contain the moans that bubbled out. “Larry, Larry, oh god, Larry,” she whispered against his throat, pressing sloppy kisses against the skin.

           “I’m gonna,” he whispered harshly.

           “Please, please, please please please,” she whined as his hand snuck between their bodies, finding her clit and rubbing it quickly. She gasped, her stomach clenching- before burying her face in the crook of his neck and biting down- not enough to break the skin- to hold in her moans as her climax washed over her.

           He wasn’t far behind, groaning a mantra of her name on repeat as he slowed his thrusts, drawing out his pleasure before falling still.

           They lay there for a few minutes, panting, trying to catch their breath.

           “… Do you think people-”

           “Yes, Larry, people definitely heard us.”      

           “… Oops.”      

           Autumn snickered, shaking her head as she patted his chest. “We need to leave.”

           “… I’m…”

           “… You’re sober enough that you can at least help me drive.”

           “Can we get food on the way home?” Larry asked, listening as she laughed again. A smile curled his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, brushing his fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry I’m hungry.”

           “At least I’m not stoned.”

           “Good point…”

[malfoii]

Malfoy x Reader Pt 2

Description: Malfoy loses a Quidditch tournament, and doesn’t react too well, especially when it’s Potter than wins. Luckily, for once, he has someone there to support him

Malfoy x (Fem!)Reader

Warnings: A couple of cuss words, but other than that not really

Masterlist

Pt 1

“I’ve always been curious,” (y/n) says, as she moves her bishop forwards. “Which house would be best at Chess?

“Can’t be Hufflepuff, they’re sweet, but complete push-overs. And it can’t be Gryffindor - I love them, but they have the patience of a goldfish.”

This earns a chuckle from Malfoy as he contemplates his turn. “I think it’d clearly be Slytherine. They have the greatest understanding of how other people work - I can predict your next five moves just by looking at you.” He smirks, and slides the bishop across the board. “Check.”

“And yet -” you smirk, “Aren’t we Ravenclaw known for our mastery of tact and strategy?”

 Malfoy lifts his head up to look at her, until their eyes lock together. (Y/n) can feel her breath becoming shallow, her heartbeat speed up. He really does have the most pretty eyes. 

  For a while, neither of them dare look away, nor break the silence between them. A slow tension brews, a mixture of quiet competition and mutual fascination. 

  Finally, it is (y/n) that looks away first, turning her attention back to the board. “Checkmate.” She captures Malfoy’s king, and plucks it off the board.

  Malfoy blinks for a second in shock, staring at his chess pieces as if he can’t quite accept that he lost. Then, gradually, his brows furrow and his face scrunches up into a knot. “Hey. You cheated!” 

  Indeed, during the time he was distracted, the pieces seemed to have completely changed position. As if by magic. 

  (Y/n) shrugs innocently. “You call it cheating, I call it strategy. Tomato, tomato.”

  He shakes his head in disbelief. “And I thought that Slytherine were supposed to be the snakes.”

  She laughs, wagging the fallen king in his face. “Hiss hiss, bitch.”

  The time is just now reaching 6am, and the orange glow of sun’s first rays begin to filter through the blinds, falling upon the sleepy pair. Draco’s hair catches the light perfectly, trapping it between the webs of wispy blond threads, giving the illusion of a halo above his head. A flop of it falls over his sleep-dead eye, and he wipes it away, yawning. It has been an odd and surreal night, comprised of chess, debating whether or not Professor Snape vaguely resembles a horse, and making lame jokes that are, for some reason, hilarious at 4am. Malfoy pinches himself to make sure it wasn’t just some inexplicable fever dream. 

But no. This is real, apparently, and so is she - this absolutely baffling, peculiar, bizarre Ravenclaw girl - that quite literally fell out of the sky. 

Well. 

As if the weight of her tiredness comes crashing down suddenly and all at once, (Y/n)’s head lolls to the side, hitting the sofa cushion behind her. Lids, heavy with lack of sleep, seem to sag. “Hey Malfoy,” - yawn - “Kids are gonna start waking up soon. No offense, but I don’t really want to explain why I snuck in a boy at unworldly hours of the night.”

  Taking the hint, Draco nods and stands to leave, mumbling a spell as he does so. The chess board cleans itself up, the blankets refold themselves, and the mugs - stained with the residue of hot coacoa - fly themselves into the sink. 

  “Where should I put...” Draco trails off, as he realizes that she’s fallen completely asleep, her face collapsed downwards into the couch. With a sigh, he bends down, awkwardly slipping his hands beneath her and lifting her off the floor. 

  Her eyes flutter open, and half-asleep, she mumbles, “At least buy me dinner first, Draco,”

  “Oh shut up.” He drops her onto the sofa with a soft thump. She laughs weakly, rolls over and falls back asleep. Once again, he makes his way to leave the dormitory, reaching as far as the door. With his hand on the knob, he stops, hesitating, and turns back around. “(Y/n)?”

  “Mmfpgh?”

  “Uh.” He pauses for a while, and coughs. “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” 

  “Is that a promise?” she coons, raising her head ever so slightly to glance over at him. “Hopefully not at 3am next time.”

  “Yes,” he smirks. “Hopefully.”

  “Oh, good.” sinking back into the couch, she lets her eyes fall shut. “Good night, Draco.”

  “Good night, (Y/n).”

  Tired and weary, Draco makes the slow shuffle back to the Slytherine dormitory. After weeks of nothing but bloody nightmares, this has been, he thinks to himself, the best night he’s had in a very long time. 

As hoped for by both parties of the transaction, the time is not 3am the next time that they meet. In fact, it’s less than twelve hours later, when the clock is striking a quarter past two. 

  Actually, it’s 1:58 when Draco first spots her - fully clad in Ravenclaw paraphilia, giddily jumping up and down amongst the crowds of spectators, waving her blue flag. He only manages to catch a brief glimpse as he whizzes on by - but yes, he’s certain that it’s her. Nobody else could possibly manage to look so completely idiotic. 

  It’s actually kind of cute. 

  Shit! A bludger grazes the skin of his left arm, snapping Draco out of his daydream. “Wha’ssa matter, Malfoy?” one of the Weasley twins darts past, laughing. “You dozing off now? What’s Daddy gonna say when he hears about this?”

  All good humor now gone, Malfoy’s face contorts into a scowl as he leans forwards, readjusting his grip on the broom. He scans the ground. A flash of gold weaves in and out from below the players. He’s found it. 

  Malfoy twists the nose of his stick, kicks his legs backwards - and with that, the broom dives angrily towards the face of the earth. In a streak of green robe and platinum hair, the boy hurtles downwards like a hawk upon its prey. The cold wind strikes his cheeks, it digs into his flesh and whistles by his ears, forcing tears to rise at the eyes. Draco can feel his stomach in his throat, he can feel the sting of sailing debris fast against his arms - more than anything, he can see the hard and unforgiving ground, speeding towards him at an alarming rate -

Even so, Malfoy does not stop. Cannot stop. He cannot afford to lose again - Not when he’s so close, when the snitch is just an arm’s length away - 

And then -

And then - 

And then the world comes to a halt - time seems to stop - the crowds are roaring -

The crowds are roaring - but not for Malfoy, no. 

With a cry, Malfoy crashes into the soil, head first. His body sprawls across the field, where he lands on his back, too stunned to move. Instead, he stares aimlessly up at the sky. 

Potter. At the very last second, he had overtaken Malfoy, if only by a hairbreadth. And in that very same second, he had grabbed the snitch right out of the air. 

Malfoy groans, and rubs his head - He had been so close this time. His fingers were mere centimeters from the golden sphere. And yet, he had closed upon nothing. Gryffindor wins again. Big surprise. 

Mud, cold and wet, fondles the bare of his neck and stains his blond hair brown. Some of it seeps into the fabric of Malfoy’s robes, stinging his spine and forcing his bones to become frigid. All the while, a dull ache throbs throughout the entirety of his body, lighting his limbs on fire. 

Faraway, Malfoy can hear the sound of Slytherine, a cacophony of puce curses and bitter insults. 

Even more distant - and even more annoying - is the sound of Gryffindor, their obnoxious cheers ringing loudly into the air. Joining them are the victory chants of both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff alike, both just excited to see Slytherine knocked out of the competition. For Ravenclaw, it means their spot secured in the finals. 

With a sigh of defeat, Malfoy lets himself sink into the hard ground, and watches the clouds pass above. The feverish noises of the crowds gets fainter and fainter as they begin to leave the field, all 200 students moving together in one great throng of collective joy and excitement. Among them, Malfoy thinks, is (Y/n), caught up in the triumph of the moment. He can imagine, with perfect clarity, the delight on her face as she’s walking away, the bubbly laugh, the way that her eyes light up with glee. He can imagine, too, the way that she looks at Harry - the way that all of the girls, here at Hogwarts, look at Harry - a look of both admiration, and warm endearment. And when he starts talking to her? Malfoy can already hear the shyness of her voice, the lilt of her laugh, the giddiness underlying her giggle. He can see the blush of her cheeks as she looks down towards her feet, tucks her hair nervously behind her ear, the way that she absolutely swoons. Everything is so clear and so detailed in Malfoy’s head - in fact, he’d be surprised if it hadn’t already happened while he was down. 

As this singular scenario plays itself over and over again, Draco lies flat on the grass for what feels like hours. Wind rustles through the foliage, clouds continue to shift, his flesh continues to bruise and Malfoy continues to wallow in self-pity.

It is now approximately 2:14pm, and Malfoy has been laying in a crumpled heap for about twenty minutes (although to Draco’s mind, it feels as if an eternity has passed since he fell).

At 2:15 exactly, a dark shadow falls across the length of Draco’s body. Startled, his eyes flick upwards, half expecting to see Snape’s blurry silhouette, face full of pity. 

Instead, he’s met with a much more welcome surprise. “(Y/n)?”

She hovers above him, stood on the edge of her heels. The Ravenclaw paraphilia is now gone, and she stands in nothing but her school blazer and skirt. “You, uh, forgot this,” she mumbles, holding up his broom for him to see. “I found it in the bushes.”

He stays silent, so she whisks him to his feet with a wave of her wand. “By the way,” she grins, “You were amazing out there! You were so graceful, it reminded me of, like, a bird - a hawk, or an egret, or something. And the way that you flew - Merlin’s beard, Malfoy - my heart was in my mouth the whole time, I was so scared! You had me on the edge of my seat, I could barely breathe!”

She looks at him in absolute wonderment. “You were incredible!”

Malfoy stands gaping. Suspiciously, he scans her expression, searching for any hints of sarcasm.

When he finds none, he snorts and snatches the broom out of her hands. “For someone so smart, I thought you’d figure out how the game works by now.”

“I - what?” (Y/n) frowns in confusion, and chases after him. “What do you mean?”

“Didn’t anyone explain this to you?” he jerks his broom in irritation, and the debris flies outwards. “Whichever team catches the Snitch first gets a hundred and fifty points, ending the game. Potter caught the snitch this time, so he won. I lost. Do you get it now?” he huffs.

In response, her arms fold over and her face shifts into a scowl. “I’m not stupid, Malfoy. I can see that. I just wanted to tell you how well you played.” Her face softens, and she forces a smile. “It doesn’t matter if you lost, Malfoy, it was still awesome to see you flying all the same. I wish I could do all of that stuff.”

With a sneer, Malfoy turns away. “Don’t be so dense, (Y/n). I didn’t play well. If I did, then Potter wouldn’t have won the game. Stop jabbering, it’s making you sound stupid and giving me a headache.”

(Y/n) watches in stunned silence, mouth almost agape as the boy before her transforms suddenly into the horrible little sleazebag that she had been warned of in the first place. Her face starts to burn red, both with the humiliation of having liked him so well, and with resentment at being spoken to so poorly. “Well, fine then!” she cries. “Besides, I only came over here to ask you as my plus one to the party tonight - Harry just invited me, said it’s going to be great, but if you’re going to be such an arsehole, then forget about it!”

At the mention of Harry’s name, Malfoy snaps. He whirls on her, his face turned a whole new shade of color, the veins bulging at his temples. “As if I would want to go to Potter’s stupid celebration anyways! I don’t need your pity party, (Y/n), okay? Do you understand?” 

Hot beads of indignation break out against the flush (Y/n)’s neck, and she can feel her fists clenching into themselves. This is what she gets, for ignoring her friends’ warnings. “Have it your way, Malfoy. Be alone if you want, see if I care.”

And then she’s gone, storming off towards the school building, scarf flapping  behind her.

Malfoy opens his mouth, closes it again, and watches, as she leaves. Pushing a hand through his muss of mud-filthed hair, he kicks dejectedly at his broom. “For Merlin’s sake, Malfoy!” he cries to himself, dropping the broom. What the fuck is wrong with me? He turns to start running after her, but it’s too late - she’s already long out of sight. 

“Malfoy, you're brilliant, but you’re also an idiot.” Draco jumps at the sudden voice, whipping his head around. “You are going to fix this, aren’t you?”

Professor Snape watches from the bleachers, eyebrow cocked, the beginnings of a coy smile at his lips. 

“I, uh,” Malfoy stutters, moving to pick up his broom. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, professor. Were you - were you there the whole time?”

“Long enough,” he chuckles. Draco does a double-take. Snape, laughing? “Malfoy, I’m not the kind to be giving advice like this, or meddling in affairs that are not my own. But you’ve been my pupil for a number of years now, and I feel that I owe it to at least advise you this: If you give up on that girl now, when you’re so clearly infatuated, I can promise that you’ll regret it for as long as you live.” His eyes narrow, and his mouth quirks up. “Besides, don’t tell me that Potter’s going to beat you again?”

Malfoy says nothing, and makes his way to leave. “Um, thanks professor.”

"One more thing, Draco.” As Malfoy turns around, Snape’s face turns sober. “It is not my place to be telling you this, but I have a sinking premonition that in the weeks to come, you’ll be needing the comfort of a friend. And, no, Crabbe and Goyle do not count.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Malfoy nods his head quickly. “Thank you professor. Again.”

[darrilshrugs-blog]

Together Again

A reader of something I wrote earlier wanted a happier piece of all of Vox Machina meeting again. I’m procrastinating on how to finish another work, so I jotted this down. 

First time trying to write all of them at once, and it’s tough. Props to those writers who pull it off.

Summary: Vox Machina meet again, and Grog gets bored.

“This is great and all, but can we go fight something?”

“Grog?”

His huge, bearded, head turns left and down from where he sits on the plush sofa. The tiny face of his best friend looks up at him. Her compact form is leaning against his side, a sizable tankard in her petite hand.

“I’m happy to sit and drink with you lot, but we’ve done a lot of talking, and it feels like it’s been forever since we went out and hit something!”

“Big man, Keyleth just got here not too long ago,” Vax sits on another long divan, and like the rest of them, is without weapons and armor. The aforementioned arch-druid’s head is nestled against his chest, and his sister’s legs rest across his lap. “and while I’ll admit time is a little funny here, it hasn’t been all that long that we’ve been back together.”

“And only you would want to take our time of rest and go looking for a battle!” Attention turns to Scanlan, who is messing around with several instruments as he perches on the arm of the first couch. He drops a horn to the cushions and bends forward to reclaim his cup, where it had been kept lightly upright between Pike’s feet. “I always underestimate just how much you are the right kind of mix of dumb and dangerous.” He grins, the impossibly wide and toothy smile that he only uses when being genuine. “I fucking love this idea!”

"I'm not sure there's anything to fight here. I'm not exactly sure how any of that would work."Vax demurs, "There's a certain amount of 'think-it-and-it-becomes-real', but not completely." Vex'ahlia's hand pauses to grip lightly in her husband’s hair. He is seated on floor below her, his back against the front of the couch as she reclines against the arm, and his eyes are closed as she has been softly stroking his scalp. She leans closer to his ear and stage-whispers. "Ooh! So if we think hard enough, darling, we could all of a sudden be back in our bed? I've very much missed that thing you do, with your -" A distressed moan of "Stop!" from her twin cuts her off, followed on quickly by three almost-simultaneous requests for more details from the two gnomes and the red-haired Druid. Vex smirks, matching well the fond smile on her husband’s lips. Percy no longer blushes as quickly and deeply as he used to (fifty years of marriage to a bawdy woman will take some of that out of you) but he still colors some in his cheeks and ears. “How long have we been here anyway?” Grog asks. “I know it must have been a bit, but it also doesn’t feel like very long.” “I have a feeling, Grog, that time is as strange as location here.” Percy answers, opening his eyes for the first time in the last few minutes. “I know I got here first, and by a good while, but it didn’t really feel like a long time until most of you were here.” “Yeah, right. It was me and Percy for a minute, and then Vex, then Scanlan. And then Pike, but after a bit.” He gives her the gentlest of nudges. Pike keeps her eyes on Vax as she leans forward with the shove and then back against the goliath. “I had a bunch of questions for Vax before we walked in here. I was surprised that it was just him, by himself.” Seeing the beginnings of a mock-offended face from Vax, she changes her tone and adds, “I was happy to see him, of course, but I thought I was going to get a chance to give that Raven jerk a piece of my mind.” A beat goes by where no one speaks. “Yes, I too had something to say, Vax. Why didn’t we get tell your god how we felt about her?” Vax responds by slowily lolling his head backward, looking toward the thick wood beams that made the ceiling of this large lounge. “There was an . . . incident with Freddie, dear sister. After that, it seemed like a better idea for me to handle the welcoming duties.” Percy’s head also tilts back now, but this is due to Vex’s hand tightening much less playfully in his hair, and his desire to keep his scalp intact. “Darling? What. Did. You. Do?” “Nothing foolhardy, Vex!” The hand doesn’t release. “Vax? Some help? Please?” The man in black chuckles along with the rest of their friends. “As much as I do enjoy watching Freddie suffer, you can relax. He just was a bit ... less than respectful to the boss lady, and then had himself a laughing fit.” He pauses, smiles, and continues speaking, as he reaches out to poke the in-distress Percy’s side with his boot “It was fucking funny, though.” Vex lets go, and gives Percy a small pet of apology. He leaves his face upturnt, expectant, until she leans to the side and bends down to give him a brief kiss. The matter is settled, for now. Grog speaks up again, “Um, Vax?” “Yes?” His regular rumble pitches up into a unsure tone. “I had another question? I’m a little fuzzy on what I was doing before I got here- I mean, I’m sure it was, like, really bad-ass and all that, but is all right to ask?” Vax opens his mouth to speak, but Scanlan interrupts. “I’m sure you were in a brothel and were suffocated under the sheer number of lovers required.” The grin is now as sly as ever. Pike jumps in as they all start to smile and laugh, the game now on. “Nope. It was under a heavy load of books you were buying on a shopping trip, Grog!” More laughs as the seated Pike wildly mimes balancing a huge stack of books. Percy assumes a more serious mien and voice. “No, the Grand Poobah of All of This-and-That would have suffered a nobler fate." He nods to Grog, then breaks into a smile and more relaxed tone. "He was likely used as a toothpick by a tarrasque-“ “- and then it swallowed him and pooped him out!” The whole group pauses for a second to look at Keyleth, who has been mostly quiet for a while now, listening to her found family talk and joke for the first time in so long. She has burst forward on the couch, away from Vax, in an energetic explosion of red hair and outstretched arms. Wide open eyes and open mouth already laughing at her own words. Everyone laughs long and hard.

Most are laughing at Keyleth’s arm motion and earnest expression.

Grog laughs mostly at the word ‘poop’ and the thought of being pooped out by something. “I became poop!” He chortles. “I would be a big poop!” More uncontrolled laughter follows for quite a while. As everyone sighs, and breathes and recovers, they can watch a thought percolate through Grog. His whole body stops moving, and his jaw works until the words come to him and escape his mouth. “A tarrasque? Now that’s a big bastard, and a proper fight! Let’s find one of those!”