#thought I could shove this together in five minutes but it took like half an hour

[pinkflu]

Happy birthday L!!!

[lordprettyflackotara]

what a heavenly way to die || the proxies

‘forever is in your eyes, but forever ain’t half the time’

sum: after being stranded in the middle of a snow storm, you’re forced to take shelter with masky, hoodie, and toby. you need to stay warm, by any means necessary

tw:SMUT, FILTHY, LONG, AGGRESSIVE SMUT, foursome kinda? idk?, sub!reader, soft dom!masky, hard dom!hoodie, sub!toby, gun play, overstimulation, exhibitionism, lowkey throat fucking, praise, humiliation, power dynamics lowkey do be in place

a/n: FOR ALL OF MY OG HITCHHIKER BABIES <3

“But I don’t wanna wear gloves!”

“Toby if you don’t wear gloves, your fingers are gonna fall off.”

Masky’s voice was hoarse, his patience thinning the longer he walked. Not even a fresh cigarette could make this situation any better. Only some shit like this would happen to him.

On the way back from an assignment the car ran out of gas, courtesy of allowing Hoodie to drive for more than five minutes. Now with the tank on E, the four of you were stranded in the middle of no where. Snow fell from the sky, coating each of you more and more by the second. Hoodie seemed perfectly content with his offense, minus the occasional shiver. Toby couldn’t comprehend the need to wear so many layers, the kid practically fighting for the right to freeze to death. Masky found himself silently regretting his choice of a mask, his gaze landing on you.

Normally he discounted your presence, you being the newest member of the group. But he’d be lying to himself if he shrugged you off. Although you had only been around for a few years now, for such a tiny little thing you sure pulled your weight. He never thought much of you at first, your small stature and loud mouth telling him everything he could ever want to know. But over the years of enslavement together you simmered down, sometimes more quiet than Hoodie. Masky could deal with his silence, having been dragged into this shit show by his hand.

But you? He couldn’t handle it.

His dark gaze landed on you, looming over your shaking form like a dark cloud. You always wore skimpy clothing, even if not practical. This happened to be one of those times, your skirt riding up your thighs and knee high socks failing to conceal the goosebumps that littered your skin. “Cold, kid?” Masky asked, ignoring his own shaky fingertips as he took a drag of his cigarette. The four of you had been hiking for what felt like hours, more and more of your limbs becoming numb by the second. “T-Told ya life wasn’t a f-fashion show,” Toby chimed in, clearly enjoying the weather.

“Can it, you ticking time bomb,” Masky interjected, frowning. He noted the way you avoided his gaze, as if you were afraid of judgment. But why? You had never given a shit about his opinion before. He grunted to himself as he shrugged off his signature mustard jacket, forcefully shoving it on your shoulders.

“But you’ll freeze-”

“Put it on and don’t bitch about it.”

His voice was stern and full of authority, threatening you to question it. His mask hid his satisfied expression as he watched you put it on. “Any plans here boss? Or do we plan on camping out here?” Hoodie asked sarcastically. It was in moments like these Masky was thankful the two of them wore mask, his distain written all over his face. “We just need to keep heading south like boss ordered,” Masky huffed, blowing cigarette smoke out into the cold night air. Tensions were arising quickly, the freezing cold fizzling out any trust that had been formed.

“Head south? Are you on crack or delusional? Toby’s fingers are so frost bitten they’re about to snap off and the kid is so fuckin cold i’m surprised she’s able to stand at all,” Hoodie barked, his words laced with venom. Masky didn’t like to go off schedule. He didn’t like to piss off The Operator. If it were him and him alone, he’d continue walking south until he either made it or The Operator himself found him. However, as his eyes raked in the sight of his companions, he realized Hoodie was right.

“Fine, we’ll have a sleepover. Follow me. I saw smoke over this way,” Masky agreed reluctantly, tossing his cigarette bud carelessly onto the ground. Toby began to yap about Masky being a litter bug, earning him a knock upside the head from Hoodie. The silent proxy gritted his teeth, annoyed with Masky neglecting to tend to them sooner.

“You saw signs of civilization and just now told us? How long would you have let us walk before we fuckin froze to death?” Hoodie questioned, his gaze so deadly Masky could feel holes burning into his back. You awkwardly tugged his jacket closer to you, your breath shallow. “He’s k-kinda right, kinda an asshole move,” You said softly, completely exhausted from marching in a borderline snow storm. Masky’s gaze softened for a moment, before noticing Toby had taken off his gloves. “We need to get going before this dipshit loses his fingers,” Masky grumbled, shrugging off the issue at hand. The three of you trailed behind him, satisfaction washing over you as a cabin came into sight.

You weren’t an advocate for death, but you quite literally would’ve killed someone for a warm spot in that cabin. The four of you burst inside, scanning the room for any sign of human life. None of you could deny your eagerness to be warm. A small fire crackled in the background in the fireplace, providing a soft orange glow to the room. Masky gestured Toby to follow him upstairs, leaving you and Hoodie to scope out the remainder of the first floor. “Any guesses on why it’s abandoned like this?” You asked the taller proxy, avoiding his lingering gaze. Hoodie tended to be a bit unsettling sometimes, whether he meant to be or not.

“My guess? Some rich couple cut their honeymoon short and hauled ass once they saw the forecast,” Hoodie said blandly, shrugging off his ski mask. It had been a while since you had seen his face, his stubble grown out more than you could remember. “Good for us then,” You mumbled, averting your eyes. You stared at the ground so much you tended to forget what your fellow proxies faces looked like. Footsteps trampling down the stairs regained your attention, your head snapping in the direction. “Good news, place is ours. Bad news, the only heat source is that lovely fireplace right there,” Masky said, sitting down in front of the small couch. The three of you followed his lead, crowding around the tiny fireplace.

“This is your grand plan?” Hoodie questioned, his distrust visible on his face with his mask off. Masky fought the urge to light another cigarette, bringing his knees to his chest. “The fireplace as well as our body heat is enough to survive. Unless you have a better idea, be quiet,” Masky replied dryly. Toby took the opportunity to lay his head in your lap, a place he had been time and time again. You had taken on this role long ago, stroking his chestnut hair until the unpredictable ticking time bomb fell asleep. Tonight was no exception, even as you settled in next to Masky.

You ignored the ever growing tension that sprouted with each second as your arms touched, the smell of his cologne mixed with tobacco flooding your nostrils. Tensions were ever growing as your arm brushed against his, your energies so magnetic it made you unmistakably nervous. Nervous. You never felt nervous in any other situation. But around Masky? Especially close like this? You might as well have been a flirty high school girl. Hoodie ignored the three of you, jumping over the arm of the couch and making himself comfortable. He was always reserved like that, refusing to touch any of you unless he was back handing Toby. The couch squeaked under his weight, the squeaks continuing until the older proxy got settled.

You continued to play with Toby’s hair, swirling your fingers around his scalp. “Warm enough kid?” Masky asked, his voice more rough than usual. You tried to avoid staring, noticing him taking off his mask out of the corner of your eye. You wanted nothing more than to soak in his features, especially since his mask was practically glued to his face a majority of the time. Instead you forced yourself gaze to remain forward, watching the fire flicker. “I suppose,” You mumbled, catching a knot in Toby’s hair. You refrained from cringing as you brushed it through with your fingers, thankful he couldn’t feel pain as he slept soundly. The sound of Hoodie’s soft snores put Masky a little more at ease, his next words something he wouldn’t admit to the other two men next to you.

“You were right about earlier. I was an asshole, I should’ve had us head here to begin with,” Masky admitted timidly. He didn’t like being the leader, that role automatically assigned to him like it was his birth right. What he didn’t like even more than that, was admitting that he was wrong. He expected ridicule, which he would’ve gotten if you were Hoodie or Toby. But instead you laid your head on his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek against the fabric of his sweater. “I know you were just trying to please The Operator,” You whispered. You continued playing with Toby’s hair, ensuring your hand didn’t stop. You glanced up in his direction, soaking in his thick eyebrows and awkward side burns. His chocolate eyes met yours unsurely, an eyebrow raising.

“What are you doing to me kid?” Masky grumbled, his own heart beginning to race. This was bad news, feeling this way towards you. But the orange glow against your skin had him reeling in his own skin. “You tell me boss,” You whispered back, edging your lips towards his. It caught you off guard that Masky made the first move, planting his lips against yours. His lips were as chapped as yours, his taste a recognized mixture of mint and cigarettes. You melted under his touch, eagerly kissing him back. He was intoxicating, his large hand slipping into your hair.

You could feel your core throbbing with desire, your cheeks flushing pink as you realized this. Being a proxy didn’t exactly equate a productive sex life, your body longing for the touch of another human. You couldn’t get enough of his lips, his desperation. It was just as passionate as yours, both of you longing for human compassion. You shuddered as his large hand slithered down to your thigh, your legs parting instantly. His cold fingertips trailed up your sensitive skin, tracing your skin teasingly. You held back a soft groan, Masky eager to hear you make sinful noise for him. He was so close to your core, your body shuddering at the idea-

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

Hoodies voice was sharp, abruptly interrupting your lustful daze. Love affairs between proxies was forbidden, a strict rule made clear to you by The Operator. While he gave the same speech to Kate, he knew that her feralness would unintentionally have her follow his rule to a T. You, however, were semi more mentally stable, with a knack for fashion and semi put together appearances. For the first time you saw panic across Masky’s eyes, causing you to clear your throat. “Sharing body warmth obviously, you cold Hoodie?” You asked, the lie leaving your lips before you had time to consider the repercussions. For a second you could’ve swore you saw a glimpse of Brian, a playful smirk crawling up his lips.

Your hand abandoned Toby’s hair, grabbing a handful of Hoodies coat to drag him closer to you. You managed to spare a moment of hesitation, dragging his lips to clash into yours. You were tense at first, unsure what the proxy would do. You were surprised to feel him meet your desperation all the same, the nagging realization of his similar loneliness crashing over you. Teeth clashed with teeth, his desperation resulting in a deeper kiss than you expected. You found yourself getting even more flushed, knowing Masky’s eyes were burning into yours. He took the opportunity to press his hand against your core, noting how damp your panties were already.

“You’re gonna wake the kid up,” Hoodie grunted, reluctant to pull away from your lips to begin with. Masky rubbed against your swollen slick, earning a small whimper from you. “I’m a-a-already up,” Toby said groggily, sitting up. You avoided his gaze as he soaked in the sinful sight in front him, Masky’s hand on your cunt and Hoodie’s lips mere centimeters from yours. You swallowed, your core throbbing at the idea of taking all three of them at once. After all, you had to convince yourself you weren’t lying. This entanglement was nothing more than an exchange of body heat, a way to keep warm.

Right?

You turned your head towards Toby swallowing nervously as you leaned forward to kiss him. It caught him off guard, his light grey cheeks forming a tint of pink as he matched your actions. Two sets of large hands rearranged you as you lost yourself into the kiss, your ass in the air as your skirt got flipped up. “Fuck,” Masky mumbled, his cold hand sending goosebumps across your skin. You could hear Hoodie moving on the couch, causing you to pull away from sucking on Toby’s bottom lip. The clinking of his belt fully caught your attention, your eyebrows raised. “Do you um, not wanna be warm?” You asked slowly. A pang of embarrassment shot through you, a creeping worry of his lack of desire for you arising. The taller proxy smirked, unzipping his jeans.

“I just wanna watch you get knocked down a few pegs, now go on and kiss Masky again,” Hoodie ordered, palming himself through his jeans. You turned to Masky, cheeks flushed red and heart pounding as you met his gaze. His pupils were blown with lust, his face in the softest state you had ever seen it. You met his lips eagerly, obeying Hoodies demand. Toby took the opportunity to come up behind you, his cold hands slipping under your shirt. Your hand slithered its way down to Masky’s crotch, palming his hard boner. You were satisfied to hear a small groan claw its way out of his throat, your lips eagerly swallowing it. You arched your back as Toby’s curious fingertips found their way to your breast, squeezing harshly at your perky nipples.

“N-No bra? You’re just d-d-dying to get fucked huh?” Toby snickered. Goosebumps trailed down your spine as you whimpered, nibbling on Masky’s bottom lip. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, soaking in his facial expression. “Let me suck you off,” You whispered, biting the inside of your cheek as Toby harshly twisted your left nipple. Masky seemed at a loss of words, something that rarely occurred to him. He looked over you, eyeing a mischievous Toby. “Hey kid, make yourself useful and let her ride your face,” He said, his words laced with authority. You couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread over you as Toby laid on his back, nuzzling himself between your knees.

“Sit back on his face princess,” Hoodie ordered, pulling his cock out of his boxers. Masky clenched his jaw, having momentarily forgotten Hoodie was even there. He watched your shaky hands fiddle with his belt, slowly lowering yourself onto Toby’s eager mouth. You nervously glanced down at the younger proxy, licking your dry lips. “You can uh, touch yourself you know, or something,” You offered unsurely, feeling him shove your panties to the side with his cold fingertips. Masky placed his hand on the back of your head, gently reminding you to focus. “He’ll figure it out kid, stop worryin’ so much,” Masky grumbled. You continued to focus on undressing him, whimpering as you felt Toby’s warm tongue dart in between your folds.

“This is taking way too fuckin long. Let’s speed things up shall we?” Hoodie asked, his cock already exposed and in hand. Your eyes widened as he took out his hand gun, clicking off the safety. “Get to sucking princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby continued to lap at your folds, his tongue messily flicking your clit. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Masky argued. His attention was diverted once you took him in your mouth, eagerly bobbing your head up and down on his hard cock. Hoodie smirked at your reaction, noting the way your thighs squeezed Toby’s head harder. “Look at her Mask. You think a girl like us isn’t into some freaky shit? Now shut up and enjoy it,” Hoodie snickered, stroking himself to the sight.

Toby was eager, his hand pumping his own shaft as he devoured your cunt. He couldn’t get enough of your taste, his soft groans muffled by your soaked folds. Your hips involuntarily grinded against his face, your own moans sending vibrations around Masky’s cock. The brunette tried to hide his own sinful noises, but you taking him to the base cancelled out any possibility of him being able to do so. His hand grabbed a handful of your hair, assertively guiding you up and down his cock. Hoodie couldn’t get enough of the sinful sight, your knees digging into the hard wood as you struggled to hold yourself up. He wouldn’t stop watching even if the world collapsed.

Meanwhile Masky was struggling to hold on, having spent years and years with his hand as his only companion. Your mouth was so warm and wet, your throat only making it harder to resist cumming right then and there. “Fuck kid, you’re gonna be the death of me,” He grunted, feeling your tongue swirl around his tip. Your eyes were already flooded with tears, your gaze meeting his as you deep throated him. It was embarrassing to Masky how fast he knew he was going to cum, your sweet face only bringing him closer to the edge. Hoodie noted this as well, noticing the way Masky’s hips began slowly stuttering. A sadistic thought came to mind, one that he knew would ensure a good time for every party involved.

Your orgasm was approaching quickly, your thighs squeezing Toby’s head so tightly you were almost worried about him. “Go on princess, that’s it. Ride Toby’s face like the good whore you are,” Hoodie purred, stroking himself. He enjoyed watching your micro expressions, your mannerisms. The way your eyebrows furrowed when Toby licked you just right. Masky momentarily pulled out of your mouth, craving to hear your moans. Your spare hand was tugging at Toby’s hair, whimpers clawing their way out of your throat. “Fuck, feels so good T-Toby-” You whined, tilting your head back. Precum and saliva covered your swollen lips, your gaze meeting Masky’s. “Can I cum? Fuck, please let me cum,” You whined, struggling to contain yourself. Masky smirked at your request, briefly giving Hoodie a cocky glance.

“Go on kid, cum for us,” He cooed. Words couldn’t describe the satisfaction he felt as you came on Tobys face, your eyes rolling back and legs shaking. You planned to get off, a click from Hoodies gun ripping you away from your ride of euphoria. “I didn’t tell you to get off, did I? Keep riding princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby was still as eager as ever, his mouth gratefully accepting you as you lowered back down onto him. He lapped at your slick, devouring your cum. “Nobody’s stopping until everyone cums. That’s only fair, isn’t it?” Hoodie asked mockingly. You rolled your tongue out across your bottom lip, presenting yourself for Masky to use. “Masky, please, let me taste you,” You pleaded, struggling to stay upright. The overstimulation was making your body twitch, the brunette quick to shove himself back in your mouth.

Something about this, watching you be overstimulated and cumming, drove Masky feral.

He was more aggressive this time, pulling your hair and forcing your jaw to go slack. You whined as you struggled to keep up, saliva trailing down the sides of your mouth. “Such a good hole for me to use, fuck,” Masky groaned. He could feel himself coming closer to his orgasm, his hips stuttering as he thrust one final time down your throat. His warm seed made you gag as you struggled to keep him in your mouth. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you gripped his thighs, swallowing him whole. He pulled out of your mouth, watching you gulp for air. You were so pretty like this, your face fucked out and sounds nothing more than incoherent babbles. You could hear Toby’s groans growing louder as well, your thighs squeezing around his head as he came on his stomach. The three of you were spent, Toby’s tongue momentarily coming yo a pause.

The sound of Hoodies gun clicking caught all three of your attention, the taller proxy not hiding his sadistic grin. “Not all of us have cum, have we?” He asked, sending a shiver of fear and arousal down your spine. “Keep sucking princess,” He barked. His gaze landed on Toby, whose eyes were barely visible from between your thighs.

“And keep eating her out kid, I wanna see her squirm.”

[charmed-quill]

Burrow Bound// Bill Weasley x Reader Chapter 3

Authors note at end.

Original request by: @littlegreenteacup

Summary: Y/N, an American half-blood witch newly arrived in Muggle London, stumbles into the warmth of the Weasley brothers after a serendipitous meeting in Diagon Alley. Drawn into their world, she finds herself at the Burrow more often than not. Meanwhile, Bill Weasley is learning to navigate life as a single father, relying on his mother’s help to care for Victoire. Though their worlds orbit each other, Y/N and Bill’s paths never seem to align—until one evening when fate finally draws them together. Will it be the start of a love story, or will they be left with nothing but heartache?

word count: 3.5k

Last Chapter

Next Chapter

The letter had arrived on Thursday afternoon, the parchment folded haphazardly and shoved into her mailbox like an afterthought. Y/N frowned as she unfolded it, immediately greeted by the nearly indecipherable scrawl.

“We will pick you up after work and show you the best spots in London. Be not afraid.”

She tilted her head, squinting at the messy handwriting as if it might magically rearrange itself into something legible. It took a full five minutes of deciphering before the message became clear, and even then, it felt more like a command than an invitation. The tone practically oozed Fred and George, and she couldn’t help but grin.

By Friday, her excitement had built to an almost unbearable level. As much as she loved her job, the endless hours of cataloging artifacts and poring over dusty records could be mind-numbing. The thought of an evening with Fred and George, as chaotic as it was likely to be, felt like a breath of fresh air.

When the clock finally struck five, she bolted from her desk, her bag slung over her shoulder as she made her way to the museum’s grand entrance. The cool evening air greeted her as she stepped outside, but it wasn’t nearly as refreshing as the sight that awaited her.

Fred and George were waiting, just as they’d promised, or rather, threatened. George stood near the museum steps, pretending to study the architecture with an air of mock seriousness. Fred leaned casually against a lamppost, his arms crossed and a crooked grin on his face that spelled trouble.

“There she is!” George called, raising both arms like he was greeting a celebrity.

Fred, who had been leaning casually against a lamppost, straightened up and strode toward her with exaggerated pomp. “The woman of the hour! Ready for your initiation into proper London life?”

“Does this initiation involve any hexes?” Y/N asked suspiciously, crossing her arms but unable to suppress a grin.

Fred draped an arm around her shoulders as if they’d been friends for years. “Only if you insult the queen,” he said seriously. “Or refuse to join in our pub crawl.”

George sidled up on her other side, his grin matching Fred’s. “It’s very British, you see. Pints, laughter, and us guiding you through the evening like the stellar role models we are.”

“Role models?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

Fred gasped dramatically. “Y/N, you wound me.”

“But she’s not wrong,” George said, shrugging. “We are notoriously terrible influences.”

Y/N rolled her eyes as they began to walk, the twins on either side of her like an overly enthusiastic escort. “So, what exactly is the plan?” she asked, trying to hide her amusement.

“Simple,” Fred said, holding up a finger like a professor giving a lecture. “Step one: we take you to a pub that has the best chips this side of the Thames.”

“Step two,” George continued, “we dazzle you with our unparalleled charm.”

“Step three: you laugh so hard you cry,” Fred added.

“And step four: you tell everyone back at the museum how much fun you had with your two favorite Brits,” George finished with a wink.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head at their antics. “I think ‘fun’ is one way to describe this.”

They led her through the bustling streets, their constant chatter making the city feel more alive than ever. Every few steps, Fred or George would point out something random

“That’s where a pigeon attacked Fred last year,” or, “Don’t go in there, their pies are cursed, and not in the fun way” keeping her laughing until her cheeks ached.

As they reached the first pub, Fred held the door open with an exaggerated bow, and George ushered her in with a flourish.

“Ladies first,” George said, grinning.

Y/N fanned her face with her hand, batting her eyelashes in a dramatic display. “What gentlemen,” she declared, “who said chivalry was dead?”

Fred and George exchanged a look, their matching smirks spelling trouble.

“Well, we do our best,” Fred said, puffing out his chest. “Someone’s got to uphold the honor of the family.”

“Yeah,” George added, giving her a once-over. “We’ll just pretend we don’t see the dirt on Fred’s shoes.”

Fred kicked at George’s shin, missing entirely as Y/N snorted, trying to suppress a laugh. Together, they ushered her into the pub, which looked nothing like the bars she was used to back home.

The room was dimly lit, with the warm glow of sconces and a roaring fire casting long shadows on the stone walls. The wooden beams overhead sagged slightly, as if they carried the weight of centuries of stories. The smell of ale, roasted meat, and something faintly herbal hung in the air, a far cry from the overly sanitized bars she’d frequented in the States. It was old, ancient, even.

Wherever they were now, she hadn’t even caught the name of the place, it looked like it belonged in a medieval village rather than the bustling city of London. 

The mismatched chairs and uneven tables were packed with patrons, some laughing raucously, others bent over quiet games. 

A smoky jukebox in the corner belted out a peculiar mix of jazz and folk music.

“What do you think?” Fred asked, steering her toward the bar.

Y/N glanced around, wide-eyed. 

“I feel like I’m about to be accused of being a witch,” she said finally, her tone dry.

Fred laughed, clapping her lightly on the shoulder. 

“Oh, don’t worry. If anyone starts yelling, we’ll just point at George and claim it’s all his fault.”

“Oi,” George protested, nudging Fred with his elbow. “I’m clearly the innocent one here.”

“Sure you are,” Y/N said with a grin, sliding onto one of the bar stools.

The bartender, a stout man with a beard that looked as old as the pub itself, approached them. His sharp eyes flicked over the trio, his expression softening as he saw the twins. 

“Weasley trouble tonight?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

“Always,” Fred said brightly. “We’re initiating our friend here into the fine tradition of British pubs.”

The bartender nodded knowingly, wiping a glass with a cloth. 

“First time, eh? Better start her off with something light.”

“Or,” George interrupted, leaning conspiratorially toward Y/N, “you could try the Dragon’s Breath.”

Fred’s eyes gleamed. “Ah, yes. Bold choice. It’ll definitely be memorable,.”

Y/N arched a brow, looking between the two of them. 

“Sounds like a trap.”

“It’s not a trap,” Fred said, holding a hand to his chest as if offended. “It’s an experience.”

“Fine,” Y/N said, laughing. “I’ll take the Dragon’s Breath, but if it’s awful, you’re both buying me dessert.”

“Deal,” George said without hesitation, flagging down the bartender.

As they waited for their drinks, Y/N continued to take in the pub’s surroundings. 

“So,” Fred said, pulling her attention back to them, “what’s the verdict so far? Are you utterly dazzled by our superior culture?”

“I’ll admit it,” Y/N said, leaning her elbows on the bar. “This place is pretty great. Though I don’t know if that’s the pub or you two.”

George grinned. “Oh, it’s definitely us.”

The bartender returned with her drink, a frothy amber pint that shimmered faintly. 

Y/N hesitated, lifting the glass to her lips. The first sip was smooth, almost sweet, then the spice hit. Her eyes widened, and she coughed, thumping her chest as a fiery heat spread across her tongue.

Fred and George erupted into laughter, doubling over as she reached for a glass of water. “What—what did you give me?” she choked out, her voice half-scolding, half-amused.

“The Dragon’s Breath,” Fred wheezed. “We didn’t lie!”

“Welcome to Britain,” George added, raising his glass in a mock toast.

Despite herself, Y/N couldn’t stop laughing, even as her mouth burned. 

The more she sipped her drink, the easier it became. The initial fiery burn of the Dragon’s Breath mellowed into a pleasant warmth that spread through her chest. By the time she reached the dregs of her glass, Y/N felt the first flickers of alcohol loosening her limbs and her laughter coming a little easier.

Fred and George jumped to their feet, practically in unison, and Fred tossed a handful of Galleons onto the table with a flourish. “Thank you for the hospitality as always, Aloc,” he announced, giving the bartender a theatrical bow.

“Yes, yes, so many pubs, so little time,” George chimed in, his grin wide as he took Y/N by the arm and steered her toward the door.

“What’s next on the agenda?” Y/N asked, stumbling slightly as they stepped out onto the cobbled streets. The alcohol was definitely working its way through her system now, leaving her pleasantly buzzed and warm.

“You’ll see,” George answered, shooting Fred a conspiratorial grin.

The Lamb & Flag was a narrow, historic pub hidden in the winding alleys of Covent Garden, its timeworn exterior glowing under the warm light of nearby gas lamps. Stepping inside felt like stepping into another era—one of Dickensian London, with its low, dark wooden beams and walls lined with faded paintings and ancient-looking maps. The tables were small and uneven, their surfaces polished to a shine by centuries of use, and the air buzzed with laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional shout from the bar.

“This place has history,” George said, his voice reverent but his smirk betraying his true intentions as he led Y/N toward a corner booth. “Proper, real history. They say Charles Dickens drank here.”

“Charles Dickens?” Y/N repeated, looking around with wide eyes.

Fred leaned closer as they slid into the booth, his tone low and conspiratorial. “Yep. He wrote A Tale of Two Cities right in that corner.” He pointed to an empty chair by the fireplace, his face the picture of seriousness.

Y/N blinked, her gaze flicking to the chair, before narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “Really?”

George grinned. “Nope, but it sounded good, didn’t it?”

She laughed, shaking her head as Fred returned with three ciders. He placed one in front of her with a flourish. “Here you are. The second-best cider in London.”

“Second-best?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow as she took the glass.

Fred winked. “We save the best for last.”

The first sip of cider was crisp and refreshing, a welcome change from the fiery intensity of the Dragon’s Breath. Y/N leaned back in her seat, letting the buzz in her veins settle as the twins launched into another one of their ridiculous stories.

“So there we were,” George began, gesturing dramatically, “testing out one of our new prototypes, Weasley’s Wheezing Whistlebombs. A flawless invention, if I may say so.”

“It wasn’t flawless,” Fred interrupted, smirking. “You set your own hair on fire.”

“Details,” George said, waving a hand dismissively. “Anyway, this Muggle cop shows up, thinks we’re up to no good, which, fair enough, and Fred here decides to tell him we’re part of a street performance act.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Fred said, grinning.

“Only because you juggled three fireworks while quoting Shakespeare!”

Y/N laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. “Wait—what did the cop do?”

“Oh, he was completely charmed,” George said smugly. “Even asked for tickets to our ‘next performance.’”

Fred raised his glass in a mock toast. “To the Weasley charm. Works every time.”

“To not getting arrested,” Y/N added, clinking her glass with theirs.

The cider went down smoothly, and Y/N found herself settling further into the warmth of the pub and the company of the twins. By the time they left the Lamb & Flag, the streetlights outside had come to life, and the crisp London evening felt charged with the promise of more mischief. Y/N looped her arms through theirs as they led her to the next stop, her laughter echoing down the cobblestone streets.

The George Inn was tucked away in Southwark, its sprawling courtyard glowing under strings of fairy lights. The creaking wooden floors and galleried balconies made it feel like a portal to another century. Y/N tilted her head back, marveling at the place as they stepped inside.

“This is like something out of a fairytale,” she murmured, taking in the lantern-lit beams and packed tables filled with patrons laughing over mugs of ale.

“Fairytale?” Fred scoffed, leading her to the bar. “This is real history. Shakespeare probably downed a pint here.”

“Or twenty,” George added, grinning. “He seemed like a party guy.”

They handed her another drink, this time a lighter ale. “This one’s easier,” Fred assured her, tapping his own glass. “A beginner’s choice.”

It was smoother than the last, but Y/N was feeling the effects now, her balance less sure and her laughter louder. The twins took full advantage, making increasingly ridiculous jokes about the "ghost of Shakespeare" sitting at the next table.

By the time they left, Y/N was leaning heavily on Fred’s arm, her cheeks red from both the alcohol and constant laughter. “I’m not sure if I’m drinking or just inhaling your nonsense,” she said, giggling as George led the way to their next destination.

“Both,” Fred said, grinning. “It’s the Weasley special.”

The Mayflower sat perched along the Thames, its timbered exterior glowing softly under the moonlight. Inside, the pub was dim and atmospheric, with wooden beams overhead and a crackling fireplace in the corner. The walls were adorned with nautical artifacts—old ropes, ship wheels, and faded maps that told stories of seafaring adventures.

“Now this,” Fred said as they stepped in, “is a proper pub. Oldest one along the river. They’ve been serving pints since before America even existed.”

George leaned toward Y/N, his smirk widening. “Feeling patriotic yet?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, laughing as Fred ordered them a round of stout. When the bartender slid a glass her way, she hesitated before taking a cautious sip. The dark, malty brew was rich and intense, and she blinked a few times as the flavor settled. “Wow. This one’s... strong.”

“Strong like us,” George said, flexing his arm dramatically.

“Or our ability to hold our liquor,” Fred added, clinking his glass with hers.

As the stout worked its way through her system, Y/N’s laughter became even freer, her words a little more slurred. She found herself caught up in the cozy atmosphere, watching the flickering firelight dance across the room as the twins bantered back and forth, keeping her in stitches with their antics.

By the time they left the Mayflower, Y/N stumbled slightly as she stepped outside, gripping George’s arm for balance. “You two,” she said, her voice a mix of exasperation and affection, “are going to ruin me.”

Fred grinned, looping an arm around her shoulders. “Ruin you? We’re upgrading you.”

“Cheers to that,” George added, leading the way to their final stop of the night.

The Spaniards Inn, perched on the edge of Hampstead Heath, seemed to glow in the moonlight, its old, crooked exterior oozing charm. Inside, the warmth of a roaring fireplace greeted them, and the scent of mulled cider mingled with the faint smokiness of the wood beams overhead. It was quieter than their earlier stops, with soft murmurs of conversation and the occasional clink of glasses adding to the cozy atmosphere.

Fred led the way to a corner booth, helping Y/N settle into the seat with a dramatic flourish. “Here we are,” he said. “The final chapter of tonight’s adventure.”

George returned moments later, carrying three steaming glasses of mulled cider. “The perfect drink to end the night,” he said, setting one in front of Y/N.

She took a cautious sip, the spicy warmth spreading through her like a comforting hug. “This is amazing,” she murmured, wrapping both hands around the glass as if she could soak up its heat.

“Best in the city,” Fred declared, leaning back in his chair.

As the night wore on, the cider worked its magic, loosening the last of Y/N’s inhibitions. Her laughter came easily, and her cheeks were warm—whether from the fire, the alcohol, or the company, she wasn’t sure. At some point, she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she gazed at Fred and George with wide, glassy eyes.

“You know,” she began, her voice a little too loud and her words slurring slightly, “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you two.”

Fred arched an eyebrow, his grin teasing. “Well, you’re not wrong. We are one of a kind.”

“No, I mean it,” she insisted, her hand wobbling slightly as she pointed at them. “You didn’t have to do this, taking me out, showing me around, making me feel... like I belong. But you did. And... and I’m just so grateful.”

George chuckled, leaning on the table to rest his chin in his hand, mirroring her. “Aw, Fred, she’s gone full sap on us. We’ve broken her.”

Fred nodded solemnly, raising his glass. “A masterpiece of our making. To Y/N, the sappiest American in all of London.”

“Stop it!” Y/N cried, though she was laughing as she swatted at him. “I’m being serious. You’ve made everything so much better. I didn’t think I’d find anyone like you here, and... and now I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Fred and George exchanged a look, their grins softening. Fred reached over, giving her hand a light squeeze. “Well, you’re stuck with us now. No refunds.”

George raised his glass with a warm smile. “To Y/N, our new favorite stray kitten.”

“And to the best pub crawl in history,” Fred added, clinking his glass with hers.

Y/N beamed, her eyes misty as she lifted her glass to meet theirs. “To you two,” she said softly. “For being the best.”

Everything after the last pub was a blur. One moment Y/N was laughing uncontrollably with Fred and George in the middle of London, their arms linked as they stumbled down cobblestone streets. The next, she was waking up in an unfamiliar bedroom, her head pounding like a drum and her mouth as dry as parchment.

The midmorning sun poured through the window, mercilessly bright, forcing her to squint as she rolled over. Blinking a few times, she took in her surroundings—wooden beams, mismatched furniture, and a distinct homey clutter that she vaguely recognized. Voices floated up from somewhere below, muffled but distinctly cheerful.

Dragging herself out of bed, she shuffled to the door and twisted the knob, stepping out onto the landing. That’s when it hit her. The hallway, the stairs, the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen—she was at the Burrow.

Her foggy mind pieced it together as she descended the stairs, one hand gripping the banister for balance. By the time she reached the living room, three familiar grinning faces were waiting for her, their expressions far too smug for her liking.

“There she is,” Charlie said brightly, stepping forward and thrusting a mug of dark blue liquid into her hands.

Y/N didn’t bother asking questions. Trusting Charlie’s easy smile, she tipped the mug back and downed it in one gulp. The concoction was bitter and slightly fizzy, but as it went down, the pounding in her head began to ease almost immediately. She let out a long sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging as the tension melted away.

“Better?” Fred asked from his spot on the sofa, his head tilted lazily against the armrest as he grinned at her.

“So much better,” Y/N agreed, setting the mug down on a nearby table and giving Charlie a grateful nod.

“We thought we’d killed you last night,” George announced, leaning back in an armchair with a dramatic sigh. “You went down faster than a Quaffle through a goalpost.”

Y/N smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Sorry, I probably should’ve mentioned I’m a bit of a lightweight.”

“A bit?” George repeated, his grin widening. “Lightweight is an understatement. You only had five drinks!”

Y/N shrugged, her smile turning playful. “What can I say? You two are a terrible influence.”

Fred sat up, clutching his chest in mock offense. “Us? A terrible influence? We were nothing but supportive of your pub crawl journey!”

“Supportive?” Y/N laughed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the doorway. “You gave me a drink called ‘Dragon’s Breath’ and said, ‘You’ll probably survive.’ That’s not supportive.”

George snorted, shaking his head. “It’s a rite of passage. You should be thanking us.”

“Thanking you?” she echoed, rolling her eyes but unable to stop the grin tugging at her lips.

Charlie chuckled, leaning against the back of a chair. “Well, you survived. That’s what matters. Welcome to the Burrow’s hangover cure services.”

“Much appreciated,” Y/N said, rubbing her temples for good measure before plopping down into an empty chair.

Fred and George exchanged a look, their grins widening. “So,” Fred said slowly, “ready for round two tonight?”

Y/N groaned, throwing a cushion at him. “Not a chance!”

The room erupted into laughter, and as Y/N sank further into the cozy atmosphere of the Burrow, her headache gone and her heart full, she couldn’t help but feel a little grateful for the chaos these Weasleys had brought into her life

a/n: this is most definetly a slow burn bc what do you mean its 10k words and the main love interest has been mentioned by name once? Okay so i really really promise that the next chapter is actually going to move the plot along im just such a sucker for relationship building. also i got the ides for this chapter based on a pub crawl i did in prague with this random american woman i met that same day, also i get extreamly sappy when I'm drunk lol.

[daytaker]

Hello! I’ve viewed your blog a few times and i really really like the way that you write, so when I learned that asks were i couldn’t help but make a request. Can we get some headcaons of the brothers meeting MC’s family for the first time and already Mama MC doesn’t like any of them because “they took away her baby.” Sorry if this is a little cringe.

But of course!

(Part 2: The Dateables + Luke)

"Mom, Dad, meet seven of my boyfriends."

...is what you want to say, but you know better than to panic your parents and fluster your totally platonic demon friends at a time like this.

And what a time it is. Here you are, surrounded by your parents, an aunt, your grandpa, and your sister, trying to calm your mother down from yet another diatribe about how you can't just get up and leave for a year---I mean, God, the police were looking for you! The police! You realize we thought they'd find your body in the woods somewhere? How could you do this to us?!---when suddenly:

Knock, knock. Knock knock knock knock knock knock. Thud. Thud. Thud.

"MC! Hey MC!"

"Mammon, if they hear you, you'll ruin the surprise!"

You and your relatives stare at the door. Then they all look at you. You give an awkward smile.

"Just give me a minute... I think those are some friends of mine..."

You really wish you lived somewhere besides a one bedroom apartment, but honestly, impossible in this economy. So you don't have anywhere remotely private to tell the brothers to scatter until the dust clears. In fact, the instant you open the door, Asmodeus flings his arms around you and kisses you on the cheek---in full view of your family, mind you!---and Beel shoves a box of half-eaten chocolates into your hand. Then seven voices are all clamoring for your attention at once on one end, and another five behind you. There are thirteen individuals in this tiny apartment, you realize, and you don't even have enough seats for your family to all sit. Your sister's seated on the floor.

"Heyyyyy guys, now's....not a great time...." A smile is plastered to your face as you tip your head in the direction of your extremely concerned parents. "And...seriously? It hasn't been two weeks yet."

Mammon looks confused, then indignant. "What? ...Hey, what the hell? You're already makin' new friends?! We really that replaceable?!"

Lucifer, who stands in the back holding a balloon bouquet with a jarringly serious expression on his face, speaks up. "I believe those are MC's relatives, Mammon. It seems we came at an inopportune time after all."

"Relatives?!" Asmo and Mammon hurry on over to give them all a good look-over, the others curiously observing.

"You're MC's mom, aren't you! Oh, MC! I see where you get your cheekbones!" Asmo gushes as your mother stares at him like he's from another planet. Which he sort of is, in a sense.

"MC? Who are these people?" your grandpa asks with bewilderment and not a small amount of concern.

"They're, um..."

"They're hot." Your sister waves her fingers at the group, and you wish you had perma-died in that attic.

You need to explain yourself quickly. On the spot. You'd already told your family you'd had a bit of a quarter-life crisis and gone backpacking across the country for the year, working through the mental collapse that living in the 21st century inevitably caused, so you ride off of that. These are a ragtag bunch you met on the road, you explain. You'd spent the better part of last year roughing it from the hills of Kentucky to the forests of Washington with these guys, and you'd become incredibly close as a result. You'd lived together, laughed together, loved together, and some of them even tried to kill you on a few occasions.

("'Tried'?" mutters Satan, and Belphie gives him a death glare.)

Under the leadership of the charismatic eldest brother, Lucifer, you'd become so close that it felt as if your very souls were somehow tethered---

"I'm sorry, 'Lucifer'?" Your mom has had just about enough of this. She approaches you with a look of heartbreaking concern in her eyes and cups your face. "....Baby, did you join a cult?"

"Who does she think she is, callin' 'em that?" seethes Mammon under his breath.

"Mammon, she's my MOM."

"Alright, I think I've seen enough." Dad gets up and eyes the boys sternly. "I dunno what you've been doing with my child, but it's gonna stop, you understand? I've got a homicide detective on speed dial because of you clowns."

"Is this where they get their assertiveness from?" speculated Levi to Beel, who simply shrugged.

"Listen, I think you're all just...misunderstanding each other!" Son of Gardonus, where are you even supposed to start? You grab the nearest demon---

(Individual brothers are below the cut!)

Lucifer

"This is Lucifer."

He gives you a look that says 'you really are as stupid as I've sometimes feared'. Why didn't you come up with a fake name?

"That was a joke."

Good, things are still salvageable.

"Because following his instructions is a lot like being in Hell."

He hates you.

"If that's the devil, then call me a sinner," your aunt says, sipping her third glass of wine.

"His real name is Boris."

He hates you so much.

"Pretty well-dressed for a man who spent a year on the road," observes your Mom with undisguised distrust. "Let me guess: while you were out gathering food and panhandling to survive, he stayed indoors doing whatever the hell he felt like doing, and at the end of the day, you'd take everything you'd earned and hand it over to him, and he'd toss you some pittance in return."

"How does she know that?!" Mammon gasps.

You try explaining to your mom that there was no cult, but she hushes you remorselessly.

You beg Lucifer with your eyes not to kill your entire family please. It seems to work.

Mammon

"Mammon, these are my parents. Mom, Dad, this is Mammon. Mammon, say hello."

"Hello. Agh! Dammit! You're really gonna use that now?!"

Oops. Pact magic. It can be a little unpredictable at times. You ruffle his hair apologetically.

The two of you were pretty much inseparable over the last year, you explain. "Best buds, pretty much." He was the first of the group you got close with. Mammon seems extremely proud of this.

"Please tell me 'best bud' isn't a euphemism, MC." Your dad gives you a pleading look. "I don't know how many more surprises I can take today." You two seem far too affectionate and touchy-feely for his liking.

Your sister grins at him from her seat on the floor, which seems to embarrass and confuse him tremendously. He's refusing to look at her. Poor guy. The two of you do look a lot alike...

Levi

"This is Levi."

"Ah, that almost sounds like a normal name. Why Leh-vee, though? Why don't you pronounce it LEE-vie?

"It's short for Leviathan," he says before you can stop him.

Your sister starts cackling and Levi is very embarrassed and indignant but mostly confused.

"Is this like a cult thing?" your aunt asks. "Naming everyone after biblical demons?" She nods and raises her eyebrows, impressed, and lifts her glass in Lucifer's direction.

"And you've been out roughing it in the great outdoors?" your grandpa asks.

"Errrr..."

"Yes, he has."

"Hmm...." Grandpa stares at Levi without a word, and your sister cackles again, and Levi looks like he'll either start bawling or go full demon and kill everybody in a sort of panicked rage. You return him to his brothers.

Satan

"This is---"

"I'm Derek. Nice to meet you."

You side-eye Satan. Apparently he was not taking any risks of you straight up calling him 'Satan' in front of everyone.

Your sister and aunt both look disappointed by this name, which seems to please Satan a whole lot.

"So," your mom says, thinking this little introduction has gotten off to way too friendly a start, "you're another one of MC's... 'friends', are you?"

"Yep," you say, refusing to acknowledge that there was any innuendo to read into.

"How the hell did you get wrapped up in a cult, Derek?" your aunt asks incredulously. "You look like you came straight from a prep school... Or the Ivies, or something. Kid, let me tell you what." She points a finger at Satan without giving him an opportunity to respond. "Let me tell you, you're gonna kick yourself when you're old and ugly and you realize you wasted your time in a cult looking like you were headed to a game of polo."

"You should've given yourself a cool name like those other guys," your sister throws in.

"Guys, please."

"What? At least the other guys had character. Lucifer, the sexy vampire prince, or something. Mammon, the... Is he a himbo or a bad boy?" ("A himbo," you confirm.) "Mammon, the hellish himbo! Leviathan, a literal fish out of water! But him? This guy's just Derek from IT." Your sister blows a raspberry and gives a thumb down. "Next."

Behind you, you hear Lucifer mutter, "Mammon. Levi. Hold Satan back."

Asmo

"This is Asmo. Please don't tear him a new one, he's---"

Your sister shakes her head. "I would NEVER. This guy looks like so much fun. Like, I'm getting shopping all day, clubbing all night vibes, am I right?"

Asmo winks at your sister, and she blushes. She blushes. You're in awe.

"Hellooooo~! I'm Asmodeus, and it's wonderful to meet you all!"

"You're the one that kissed my grandchild," Grandpa recalls, raising an accusatory finger at him.

"But MC loves when I give them kisses! Surely you all understand, right?"

....

"Right..."

....

Motherfucker, Asmo just charmed your family.

Beel

"This is Beel. Beel, this is...everyone."

"Hi. Good to meet you." Beel is very polite, if a bit uncomfortable.

"Well aren't you a drink of water and a half." You hate your aunt so much sometimes.

Beel frowns. "I'd rather have something a little more filling than water."

You see a look in your aunt's eyes and you jump before she has the chance to strike.

"If you say you're on the menu, Aunt Gina, I swear--"

"What's 'Beel' short for?" your mom asks sternly.

"Beelzebub," Beel answers with an adorable but also infuriating level of innocence.

Your sister is cackling again.

Belphie

Hey, where'd Belphie go?

You look around, confused.

Oh. He wandered to your room while everyone was distracted.

He's sleeping on your bed, hugging your pillow. And drooling on it.

Your relatives stand behind you, observing the scene somberly.

"What's he on?" asks your sister in a whisper. "Like... he's definitely on something, right?"

"Freeloader. That goes for the whole lot of 'em. At least this one is honest about it. Just walks in and treats the place like it's his." Your dad is very annoyed.

"He's got narcolepsy," you insist. You don't know enough about narcolepsy to be sure if that seems like a reasonable excuse, but you're counting on your family not knowing either.

"How the hell did you all get around with a narcoleptic?" your aunt asks, elbowing Lucifer in the ribs. "Hah! Oh, MC, sweetie, I need a refill."

When you manage to get the brothers out of your apartment, you turn around and face your family. They're staring at you.

Your sister breaks the silence. "So like... how many of them have you--?"

[call-me-pup2]

Night with friends - Story

Running around worrying about the house being just right for the game night I'd organised. I know nobody would care if I dusted the top of the cabinet but I wanted everything to be perfect. Consoles set up, boardgames out, snacks ready, house spotless, perfect! I quickly jump in the shower since I'd worked up a sweet running around all afternoon. I was just stepping out when I heard the doorbell go and I was only in a towel, before I had time to run into my room three of the people I'd invited stepped through the door, I forgot I'd said to people to just come in when they arrived. I looked over at them, squealed and jumped through the door to my room. Full body blushing I heard them laughing together one shouting through they didn't mean to arrive five minutes early but thought it would be okay. Little did I know that wouldn't be the only time that night I'd be half naked infront of the group

I threw on the dress I'd picked out and met everyone in the kitchen apologising for that but no one seemed bothered I even swore I saw them exchanging glances as if communicating some inside joke or something. I shrugged it off and lead them into the living room where everything was set up. They were the first three but there was still another couple people missing. I told them to get started and I was going to wait for the others. About ten mins later the second to last person arrived and said our last friend got held up at work so wouldn't be here for another couple hours so I went and joined them all in the living room

We were playing a game of smash bros but I'd been knocked out when one of them asked if I could go grab them another drink, I jumped up and headed to do so. When I came back through the energy of the room felt different it felt like when they exchanged glances earlier but more intense? Like they all knew something I didn't? I walked over to who had asked for the drink and set it beside them, as the bottle left my hand they pulled me into their lap. I stuttered out asking what they were doing and they snickered at me and leant in close to my ear

"Oh pup you don't know do you? We want to play with you tonight" they started to kiss my neck and I felt too confused to move at first. I tried to pull away but they'd wrapped an arm around my waist and the other was over my legs so I was stuck. My whimpers turning into moans when they started nibbling my neck. I heard the other three laughing from across the room, watching like hungry dogs

I felt their hand start to slid across my thigh and towards my pussy, I started trying to move again but I can't say part of me wasn't into all this happening. My eyes were shut tight as if I was trying to hide but I heard someone move in front of me

"Here pup, maybe this will keep you quiet"

I opened my eyes just as a dick was shoved past my lips into my mouth. My attention was so focused on that I didn't realise the person who's lap I was sitting on had fully spread my legs to gain access to my pussy. My subby brain took over and I completely melted under their touch. Sucking, drooling and moaning on the cock in my mouth as my panties were pushed to the side and two fingers were being thrust in and out of me

"Wow pup we didn't expect you to play along so well" I heard someone else come close, the first dick was pulled out of my mouth and replaced with another. I could also feel the person under me fighting with their jeans and I felt their dick pressing against me. The lifted my ass and slid me down onto them filling my pussy, I moaned out and the person in my mouth took that opportunity to lace their fingers in my hair and push their cock into my throat

"Fuck pup, why did you never tell us you're such a obedient slut?" After being trusted up into and drooling all over the cock in my mouth they decided to switch position. I was bent over the coffee table, two people behind me, two in front. My dress pushed up as I felt one cock push into my pussy and one back into my mouth

"Let's see how much you can actually handle pup" another dick was pushed into my pussy, I felt so full, so stretched, fuck it felt incredible

"Fuck pup" they two in my pussy thrust off time from each other not giving my pussy a break. The two at my mouth took turns to fuck my mouth while I gave whoever was waiting a handjob

I don't know how long we fucked, they kept pulling me into different positions and changing who was fucking my mouth or my pussy. At some point the doorbell went again and it was the last person who was late. They walked in and didn't seem surprised so I'm guessing someone had messaged them about what they had planned

"Oh pup we need to make it fair, they've missed out, be a good girl and give them some special attention" at this point I was so far into sub space I was ready to do whatever I was asked. Everyone sat back playing with their dicks watching as I lead the last person to sit down, straddling them and kissing their neck grinding down on their lap. Sliding off them once I could feel their hard dick pressing against me, undoing the button and zip to release them. Sucking, licking and drooling giving them a blowjob in full view of the other four people there. I stood up and turned around gathering my dress up as I pushed my pussy down onto their hard, drool covered cock. Feeling their hands wrap around my waist as they thrusted up matching my bounces

I didn't take long before everyone else wanted to join in again and very quickly I was trying to please five dicks at once. I heard them saying they were getting close and I was pulled to be bent over the arm of the couch. Each took it in turns to push inside and fill my pussy, five loads of warm sticky cum. As the last person pulled out someone shoved my panties into my pussy telling me how I needed to keep the cum inside me to be a good girl

Someone pull me into their lap again but this time to play with my clit until I came and I did hard, arching my back and moaning out. They pull me close to their chest to cuddle me after telling me how good I was for everyone and that I need to have more game nights like this

[nenynrawrites]

Zoned in, zoned out, zoned in

Summary: Izzy overthinks a little thought, zones out (you do, too), but zones back in:3

Wordcount: 560 words

Warnings: SMUT!, P in V, light swearing, but other than that, fluff (if I missed any, don't hesitate to tell me!)

A/N: @izzystradlindoesitforme brought me onto this idea, after I sent them the upper GIF of Izzy:)

Like, comment, share and reblog are always appreciated!:)

To you, it looked easy. To Izzy, it was the most complicated sometimes. To just not think for one second. But with you, it somehow worked.

,,That's it, baby, doing so good for me...''

You were situated underneath him, your legs bent in half to your chest, your arms around his neck, your lips on his...By bow you thought he would be relentless, just going for it, but no, he was...Gentle. You could feel the pent up energy leaving him, but in such a sweet way, that he wouldn't even dare to hurt you.

He didn't know where he was. Of course he knew he was at your place, but...His mind was just...Blank. The closeness, the intimacy you were giving each other, made his mind go crazy. Every little kiss, every little touch and nibble, was carefully placed with the goal, that it would make both yours and Izzy's eyes roll back.

,,Y/N, baby-''

Izzy wanted to say something. A random thought had appeared in his mind. Nothing important, just something trying to be put together.

,,Izzy?''

,,Hm?''

,,What's up? You...Stopped...''

,,Shit, I'm so sorry, I-''

He was at a loss for words. Everything was going perfectly, and then that damn thought had to pop up and ruin everything.

,,Do you wanna stop completely, or-''

,,No, I...I just need a minute...''

,,Okay.''

Izzy pulled out of you reluctantly, laying on his back and lighting a cigarette, the smoke escaping through his nose, making you laugh.

,,What's so funny?''

,,Nothing. Just that you looked like a sleeping dragon, is all.''

,,I do feel all warm.''

,,I do, too.''

You scooted closer, Izzy gripping onto you tightly (as if you would go anywhere^-^), rubbing over your back, whilst you caressed his chest.

,,Must be something important, or just-''

,,Just what? It's nothing, I swear! I just-''

,,Let me finish my sentence, please! Izzy, darling, you're overthinking.''

,,Overthinking? Me? Never, I-''

,,You're doing it right now. You tried to shove that random thought away, but it wouldn't, so it started pestering you.''

,,I guess.''

A chuckle left him. The now to basically ash reduced cigarette got put out, slight smoke escaping it, just like the imaginary smoke escaping from Izzy's mind.

You couldn't help but think, how stupid the situation seemed, but being a chronic overthinker, you knew all too well how it felt.

,,Y/N?''

,,Hm?''

,,I asked you something.''

,,Huh? What was it?''

,,Do you wanna continue?''

The whole time you've been thinking and tracing, you didn't realize, that Izzy was on top of you again, sitting on your thighs, his cock standing proud, a smile on his lips. To Izzy, it was sometimes the most amusing thing, seeing you get lost so much and so fast in your thoughts...Unless he wants to get your attention, like right now.

,,Uuh, yeah, yeah...How long was I thinking?''

,,About five minutes. And, you looked really pretty during that.''

,,Oh yeah? How pretty?''

,,So pretty, that you've made the same face as when you're fucked out...''

Izzy didn't let you answer, just quietly took your surprised moan into him, the once soft kiss turning heated, as he made himself comfortable inside of you. Languid strokes, each time pleasuring the both of you just right. Praises falling from each other's lips, and the once coherent words turned mush.

,,I love you.''

,,I love you, too.''

[lumosinlove]

Last minute decision to do @oknutzyweek2023 because FUN!! Decided to add a little twist.

So: O’Knutzy Week (Taylor’s Version)

Day One: Summer Vacation (all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing)

Two times Logan had a cold and was a BABY about it.

Harvard

There was a flood warning. The whole locker room’s phones blared to attention at once. Finn saw the coaches frowning. Someone flipped the news on. The roads were gone, frigid wind rising from the spray of cars passing through puddles that were as good as small lakes. Blurry red lights and reporters barely hanging onto their umbrellas, sleet stinging their eyes.

Finn caught Percy’s eye and could almost taste it in the wink Percy dropped him. There was no way they were making it to this game.

Max slapped him on the back, short light brown hair sticking up in every direction from his post-practice shower. “Looks like we won’t be line mates after all, Captain.”

Finn sent him a half-smile. “Hm? Oh, yeah, man. Another time.”

It wasn’t good. It wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t anything he was proud of, but the idea of going on a roadie without Logan had been enough to get Finn down for days. A strange ache huddled in his chest, confusing him until he remembered the sight of Logan, feverish and red-nosed in his bed. Max was great. They would have been great on a line together. He was fast and he kept bodies away from Finn. But Max wasn’t Logan.

“All right, boys, you called it,” Coach sighed, hanging up his phone. “Game’s off. Let’s all get home safe now. Keep a close eye on these roads, it’s a river out there.”

At least the guys had the good sense not to cheer, but Finn knew they were all glad for the break. Exams were coming up fast and called for late nights in the library. Finn was exhausted. The games had been hard. They’d been missing Logan on the ice more than any of them cared to admit. He filled gaps that Finn never even thought to look for.

And it wasn’t good. It wasn’t healthy. But Finn felt stretched thin, brittle and sullen, when Logan wasn’t near.

Among the rustle of guys packing up and leaving, Finn hid a small smile, shoved his earbuds in, and pressed call.

The five rings it took for Logan to answer felt like the distance laughing in Finn’s face.

“Hm,” came from the line.

“Did I wake you?” Finn asked.

“Non,” Logan rasped, but Finn could hear it in his voice. He looked down at the call-screen, brushing a thumb over Logan’s contact picture: Grinning, half rolling his eyes maybe. From one of the boys’ pre-season road trips. Finn could just see his bare shoulders, and maybe no one else knew, but Finn had memorized the way his body had looked that day. Golden and strong. Hidden curves of muscles that Finn had mapped out with his thumbs, that one time. Once.

“Finn?” Logan’s voice asked, accompanied by a harsh cough.

“Oh, sorry, hi.” Finn rubbed his eyes. “Hi, I’m here. Just calling to say game’s cancelled.”

“You’re coming home?”

Finn laughed softly. The hope in Logan’s voice was unmistakable. “You’re such a baby when you’re sick.”

“Bring me soup.” 

“I will, I will.”

Finn wished he could make Logan soup, the real kind that his dad got from the deli around the corner when he and Alex were sick. Slight crunch of carrots, soft celery, thick egg noodles, bayleaf and rosemary. He wanted Logan to be better.

Finn zipped up his backpack. “Can you get better already?”

All he got in return was a disgruntled scoff. “I’m trying.” Then, after a moment, “You miss me?”

Finn smiled. He didn’t care who saw. It was Logan’s voice in his ears and his ears alone. “You know it.”

“Yo,” Percy said when the door to OKN slammed behind them. They were all freezing, knuckles tucked under the straps of their backpacks. “You going to check on the gremlin?”

“Yeah,” Finn said. “Kitchen first though. Gotta heat up some chicken noodle.”

Percy snorted. “He knows the stairs still work the same, right?”

Finn dropped his bags and laughed. “Oh, he knows.”

He went to the cupboard and found the cans of chicken noodle he’d picked up. The sink was a mess but he scrubbed a pan clean then stood close to the hot burner while it boiled. The rain was turning to snow outside and he, honestly, couldn’t remember the last time he’d been actually warm. He held his palms over the soup, beginning to bubble, and tried to rub some of the rawness out of his knuckles. He put it in a mug, easier for Logan to hold. Silver, Percy’s dog, came in and sniffed at his ankles, whining until Finn fished a piece of carrot out with the spoon and gave it to her.

How long did this storm give him to relax? A day or two. He still had to finish his Romanticism paper. He needed that book from Kelsey in his theory class. Logan’s soup was getting cold, Logan was sick, Logan was falling behind on his reading and there was only so much Finn could do to help. Logan, maybe, would let Finn spoon up against his back again while he shivered through his fever.

When he opened Logan’s door, he was hit with—well, the only word Finn’s brain supplied was summer. Logan had the heat in his room high, blankets wrapped tight around his shoulders. He was a half-visible lump in the bed, the darkness as good as humidity.

“Jesus,” Finn said as warmth began to seep back into his fingers. “Lo?”

No reply. Finn shut the door softly, then sat on the edge of Logan’s bed, setting the soup down. He put a hand on Logan’s back.

“Got your soup, baby,” he said—and then snapped his mouth shut. He’d meant it as—no, he’d meant—He’d meant here’s your soup. You big baby. But he hadn’t—had he? Baby. I just want to take care of you, and read all of your books to you and I want you to feel better, I miss you, I don’t know how to play without you—

Slowly, Logan rolled onto his back and blinked up at him. Finn stared back and had no idea if he’d heard or not. Baby.

“Raining?” Logan asked.

“Snow,” Finn said. He tapped a fingernail on the mug, making a soft clinking sound. “Soup.”

“We have to study.” Logan groaned and turned into his pillow before pushing himself up on one elbow. His hair was a mess. Needed a wash, too. When the blankets fell down, Finn swore he felt another wave of heat roll off of Logan’s bare chest and sink into his very bones.

“Don’t worry about that now,” Finn said. “Little vacation first, maybe.”

After a moment, one green eye peaked out at him. “Vacation?”

“Feels like the Bahamas in here, that’s good enough for me.”

Logan groaned. “I feel like the Bahamas.”

“So you are feeling better.”

“Non, ugh.”

Finn laughed, but at the frown that settled between Logan’s eyebrows, he quieted. It was a small risk, but he didn’t think Logan would call him on it—He pushed Logan’s sweaty hair off of his forehead. “I know, Lo. I’m sorry.”

Logan closed his eyes. “Oh, your hand is so cold.”

“Oh, sorry.” Finn made to pull back, but Logan gripped his wrist and kept him there.

“Non. Non, it feels good.” Logan dragged Finn’s hand to his cheek and let out a breath. “Fuck.”

Finn could only watched, lips parted, as Logan pressed Finn’s hands against his own neck, his chest, his forehead and cheeks. Finn didn’t dare move on his own. He let Logan put him where he wanted.

After what felt like an hour of Finn holding his breath and trying not to enjoy this too much, Logan let him go and sat up for his mug. He made a face that was something between relieved and dissatisfied.

“This soup is terrible.” He gave a shiver and sank back down into his blankets.

“I know,” Finn said, still caught on the soft roll of the R in Logan’s mouth. His lips were red, chapped. His eyes were vividly green against his fever-bright cheeks.

“What can I do?” Finn said softly. He needed to do something.

Logan looked at him for a long moment. Finn wanted him to say get in. Pull those heated, Logan-filled blankets back for him and let Finn sink into his favorite universe. The one where they might be each other’s.

“Nothing,” Logan whispered.

Nothing. That word out of Logan’s mouth could send him any which way. What could Finn do? Nothing. Nothing is what this seemed, sometimes. But it was everything. Finn was hopelessly trying, pushing and pushing himself to keep up with Logan. To try and figure out what Logan wanted from him. What more could he do?

Logan reached out and grabbed Finn’s hand again, bringing it back to his forehead. It startled a small laugh out of Finn.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Logan said. “D’accord?”

Finn sighed, but nodded. “Okay.”

Present Day

“My poor baby,” Finn said, trying to hide his laugh as he pushed the hair off of Logan’s clammy forehead. “Poor baby boy.”

Logan just tucked his nose up against Finn’s neck and grabbed at his hand until Finn was holding him even tighter around his waist, rubbing cool fingers up and down his spine.

“You are such,” Leo said from the doorway, where he had appeared with a tray of soup and ginger beer. “a baby when you’re sick.”

“Non.”

“Yon,” Finn said. “Always have been.”

Leo set the tray down on the other side of the bed and picked up the mug. He propped himself up against the headboards and Logan, slowly, rolled over and into his arms instead. Leo wrapped his arm around Logan’s shoulders so he could still reach the spoon. “Am I feeding you, is that what’s happening?”

“Yep,” Finn said. “Looks like it.”

Leo just shook his head, but let Logan lean up for a spoonful of broth.

“Merde,” Logan swallowed, his cheek smushing back against Leo’s t-shirt. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life.”

Finn met Leo’s eyes to catch his grin. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Logan accepted a few more spoonfuls before sitting up himself and taking more eager sips. His eyes flashed disgruntled. “I just want to get better.” He looked wistfully out the window. “It’s summer, we’re supposed to be on vacation.”

“Hey,” Finn held up a hand. “What more would I rather be doing on my vacation that stay holed up with you two?” 

“Same,” Leo said. “Lo, you’ll feel so much better in a few days.”

“I know but…Yeah. I know. Just ugh.” He took another long sip. “This soup is really the best thing I’ve ever had.”

Leo laughed. “I’ll get you some more.”

Finn watched Logan’s eyes follow Leo out through the doorway. He had that same feverish flush to his cheeks. Glassy green eyes, red nose.

“Remember the snow storm?” Logan asked suddenly.

Finn nodded. “Mhm.”

“Me too,” Logan said.

When they smiled at each other, it wasn’t all that sad.

“What do you need, baby?” Finn asked, rubbing a hand over his bare chest. “What can I do?”

“Be here,” Logan said. He pressed a kiss to Finn’s neck. “I need you two.” He smiled, eyes darting towards the kitchen. “Do you need anything?”

Finn shook his head, watching as Logan brought up his hand to cradle against his own cheek. “Just you two.”

After Logan fell asleep again, Finn found Leo in the kitchen, humming softly to himself. He was stirring the big pot on the stove and Finn settled his hands on his hips.

“Smells so good, Le.”

“You want some, too?” Leo asked, holding the spoon up for Finn to taste. “Need anything?”

Finn accepted it gratefully, but he turned his head and kissed the corner of Leo’s mouth. “No, nothing.” Nothing. It was the fullest word he’d ever used. “Just you humming in the kitchen.”

[mariaofdoranelle]

URDAD - part 4

Vaccine: I want you in my arms

Fic masterlist

There’s this super catholic holiday where I live and it’s the entire city’s personality. It’s this weekend. And I just realized I’ll spend the entire holiday writing smut for different fics while all my friends and family are praying and attending the procession. Am I going to hell

Words: 2,2k

Warnings: NSFW (I did my best to describe it but it’s an uncommon one so if you want to google it this chapter’s sex position is called Stairway to Heaven)

Aelin had to spend some extra energy she didn’t have to keep her legs from swaying. Her muscles were sore, more strained than any gym could make her feel, especially if she considered how tender she was between the thighs as well.

She went back to her bedroom to get a change of clothes and check on Fleetfoot, but her mind hadn’t left Rowan’s bed. The last 24 hours consisted of sex. And naps. And more sex. Eating leftovers of the barbecue with her dog. More sex. Again. Once more. Sleep. Morning sex—

Rowan trapped her against the hallway wall, making her squeal.

“What’re you doing?” Aelin’s head lolled against the wall as he untied her robe, his mouth on her neck. “I left your bed five minutes ago.”

“Too long,” Rowan grunted, grumpy enough to make her laugh.

Aelin pulled his face to her with both hands, and despite the urgency in which he trapped her on the wall, Rowan’s kiss was long and sweet. His teeth and tongue played with her lips when he wasn’t kissing her in tender and heated flicks.

But if his affectionate caresses were making her knees even weaker, she wasn’t ready for when he pinned her wrists above her head, against the wall.

Rowan kissed her collarbone, neck and jaw before whispering in her ear, “I can stop if you’re too tired.”

From under her lids, Aelin analyzed his eager yet careful eyes. How that brilliant mind of his might be planning to have his way with her. Was she tired? Yes. But too tired?

She arched her back, trying to shove their hips together since her wrists were still pinned. “C’mere.”

When Aelin thought his hands were freeing her, he just let her loose for half a second before gripping her waist as if it was his lifeline, Rowan’s hands sneaking under her robe.

His lips were halfway to her neck when Aelin redirected it to her mouth. Their kiss was long and thorough, Rowan taking everything from her while he clutched the shape of her, squeezed her ass and made her tingle all over.

His hand met her pussy, and he groaned at the wetness he found.

“Fuck,” Rowan said under his breath, his fingers sliding inside her with impressive ease. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“You’re insatiable, Doctor.” Aelin’s tone was hoarse and silky. “I didn’t know you were like this.”

“I didn’t either,” he murmured against her jaw before kissing, gripping, curling his fingers inside her and making her eyes roll.

Aelin took his cock in her hand and watched him roughen up his caresses with each pump.

She took a peak at the hallway they were at. The best place here to fuck would be the wall, or maybe…

Aelin took his hand, interrupting their hookup session to lead him to the stairs.

“You wanna fuck downstairs, baby?” Rowan whispered in her ear from behind, his breath against her ear and his hands on her hips being too much to handle.

Too far. Aelin was too horny to talk properly, but the couch was too far. So was the bedroom.

After descending a little, she stopped him in the large landing between the two sets of stairs. She took off her half-opened robe, letting it pool by her feet. Aelin got down on her knees before him, watching Rowan’s confused frown before she turned around to face the stairs.

Fuck, baby were his only words before he kneeled behind her and pushed his cock inside her, every part of it spreading her open for him.

Aelin moaned, holding herself upright by holding a step of the stairs, her knees too weak.

His pace was hungry, Rowan held her hip with one hand, this thumb grazing the top of her ass, and himself with the other, needing to hold on to the stairs if he was as wrecked as she did.

The apex of Aelin’s thighs were on fire, that burning feeling spreading through her limbs. But she still pushed against his thrusts, demanding as much as he could give her, even if she could barely take it herself.

Rowan’s grip on her tightened, and after one particularly merciless roll of his hips, she lost her balance, stumbling off her position.

He immediately stopped to check on Aelin, caressing her hair as he waited for her.

“You okay, baby?” he asked between pants.

The look Aelin sent him over her shoulder was nothing short of wicked. She purred, “Yes, Daddy.”

His eyes darkened, something sparking behind them as he took her in, all in fours for him and ready for more.

He slapped her ass, hard enough to sting.

“What did you say?”

“I—“

Rowan slammed his cock into her, making her lean against the stairs before her and cry out. Without easing his pace, he grabbed a fistful of Aelin’s hair

“What did you call me, baby?”

She had no idea where that pet name came from, but now that he seemed to be into it…

“Your cock is so big, Daddy, it tears me apart when you—“ He pounded into her, turning what she was saying into incomprehensible, strangled noises. “Yes,” she whimpered, “like that.”

“Yeah? How about—“

He sneaked his hand between her legs, pressing her clit. His rhythmic circles there added to his cock filling her in was too much. Aelin’s limbs were weak, all her blood rushing to her loins, and she moaned his name, very close to falling limp on those stairs.

Rowan’s hips stuttered, and the little more pressure he added on her clit made her go over the edge. Aelin clenched around him, knees buckling as her vision blurred, overwhelmed with sensation. He didn’t look much better, and they were both holding on to each other and to that damned staircase, calling each other’s names as they got through the peak together.

After he pulled out, Aelin sat on the bottom of that set of stairs, leaning on the steps with her elbows. Her breath was still erratic when Rowan sat her on his lap and nestled her on his bigger frame.

“My clothes are cleaner,” he explained why he put her over himself instead of the floor, even if his house was tidy. As if she needed a reason to sit on his lap after being fucked like that, repeatedly.

“I have a complaint.” Aelin bit back a mischievous grin while she watched his face grow concerned. “You have your clothes on.”

Rowan’s features relaxed, and he took his t-shirt off to give it to her. “We’re even now.”

The only real complaint she had is that she lost sight of his abs the second his cotton shirt crossed her sight, as she put it on. Truth was, Aelin knew exactly why he didn’t take any of his clothes off. He was too caught up in the moment to do it, and the only reason she took hers off was for that little show in this stairway.

Rowan was awfully silent, just staring at her in a way she’d just found out he’d do sometimes after an orgasm.

She leaned on his torso, running the tip of her finger on the bridge of his nose. “What’re you thinking?”

Rowan startled, realizing just now that he’d tuned out, and his lips tugged in a playful way that was different from his previous vacant look. “Of all parts of my house, I never thought we’d take my stairs’ virginity.”

She chuckled. “That was a first for me too.”

Rowan’s steady breaths were a balm to her soul, just as soothing as his pine smell and bare walls. Aelin used to criticize rich people who had nothing but neutral colors in their home, but she liked his house—especially the green pops of color, even if she’d still put more plants or colorful pillows. Fleetfoot loved it here too, mostly because of the garden and the pool—

Rowan cleared his throat. “But there’s this other thing I was thinking about.”

“Tell me.”

“What’re you doing tomorrow on your lunch break?”

“Why?” Aelin’s gaze roamed over his eager expression with alert eyes, the reddened cheeks framing his nervous close-lipped smile, and she knew exactly what he wanted. She shifted on his lap, straddling him now. “Why do you need me at work, Doctor?” She ran both hands over his chest, sending him a heated look from under her lashes as she said in a sultry tone, “You want to traumatize Anne Jausten?”

He swallowed, his thumb playing with the hem of her—his—shirt. “No, I want to have lunch with you.”

Aelin went rigid on top of him, blinking. “As in a lunch date?”

His mouth opened. And closed. Rowan nodded, his eyes intent on hers.

“I’d love to,” Aelin said around a grin wide enough to release the tension on his shoulders.

“Good.” Rowan showered her neck and jaw with quick pecks. “Good, I—“

“But it can’t be tomorrow.” She grimaced, just now remembering her scheduled appointment. “I have an apartment tour.”

His face fell. “So soon?”

Aelin wasn’t sure if he meant it as a question, so she decided to take it as one.

“Yes, because I’m homeless.” Rowan frowned, making her grin while she rubbed off the crease between his eyebrows. “And your deadline was one or two weeks, remember?”

“I… deadline?” He blinked. “I didn’t mean it literally, Aelin. I’m not kicking you out in eleven days.”

“I know you won’t, but I still need a home.”

“Alright, then.” He pushed back his shoulders, something shifting in his mind as his gaze levered hers. “Let’s see this apartment.”

She leaned away to carefully scan his face, trying to understand him. “You want to see the apartment with me?”

“Why not?” He shrugged. “It’ll be fun.”

˜˜

“I hate this,” Rowan protested once more, “it’s unacceptable.”

“Can you explain your new concerns to me, Mr. Whitethorn?” The real estate agent’s tone was way too neutral, her smile way too strained.

The poor woman. Rowan was wearing her thin with his million complaints about her potential future house.

He gave the woman a surprised glare, as if he couldn’t believe she wasn’t seeing the same thing as he. “Why are these walls so yellow? It hurts my eyes.”

“It was inspired by a viral kitchen on Pinterest, sir.”

Rowan gave her a bored look. “It’s tacky.” He pointed at a small crack in the wall, between the counter and the wall cabinet. “And what about that? Are the cracks cosmetic, or does the building have structural damage?”

After giving a quick reassurance that she didn’t know about any structural issues, the agent excused herself. Good for her, since Aelin didn’t know what was going on with Rowan today.

The apartment wasn’t half as nice as his two-story house, but it was the closest from the hospital she could afford. It was a small, nice-enough middle-class place for a single, middle-class girl.

Aelin tugged on Rowan’s hand and stood on her tiptoes to whisper, “Take off your pants.”

His eyes bulged. “Here?”

“Well, I have to do something about this bug up your ass.”

Rowan crossed his arms, unimpressed by her snark. “If I have a bug up my ass, it must be because this apartment has bug issues.”

The slap on his bicep was gentle, but Aelin’s face was not.

He gaped. “The apartment is terrible, and I’m the one in the wrong?”

“It’s a perfectly good apartment!”

“The floors are too creaky!” He made his point by walking around and stepping multiple times on the creaks he found. “Do you think Fleetfoot is gonna like to run here? Can she even run in a place this small?” He dragged her by the hand to a window. “You see this alley?”

It was right under her window, even though the front of the building was on a bigger street. In fact, the alley was between two larger streets, and a big part of it was just the sides of bigger buildings that faced the main streets.

“What about it?”

“It’s the kind of place thiefs run to after mugging women like you. For all I know, there could be a crack house by the end of this alley.”

She crossed her arms. “A crack house? Seriously?”

Rowan shrugged. “Have you seen Mistward’s crack rates?”

“Have you seen Mistward’s crack rates?”

He squinted his eyes. “I don’t like this house.”

Aelin took a peak around the apartment. It wasn’t ideal, but it was as good as she could get given the time she had. But yesterday Rowan said there was no urgency at all, which meant Aelin had until he got tired of her.

And he was right about Fleetfoot, too. The house wasn’t ideal for her, the neighborhood wasn’t safe enough to walk her at night, and no thief would be scared of a friendly little mutt that looked like a golden retriever.

Imogen never mentioned anything about her father having girlfriends, which probably means Rowan gets bored of women easily. If Aelin played her cards right, she could even double her amount of weeks with him, finding a better place to move out in the meantime.

“Fine.” She pointed a finger at him. “But if you keep this up, I’m not bringing you to the next tour tomorrow.”

Rowan’s eyes widened. “Tomorrow?”

You can get notified when I update by either turning notifications on for @backtobl4ck-fics or entering my (sometimes glitchy) tag list!!

TAG LIST

I couldn’t tag the people in bold, sorry!

@aelinchocolatelover

@autumnbabylon

@bookcide

@booksandteaonarainydayislife

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@courtofjurdan

@dreamer-133

@elentiyawhitethorn

@elizarikaallen

@emily-gsh

@empress-ofbloodshed

@fangirlprincess09

@goddess-aelin

@gracie-rosee

@leiawritesstories

@lululululululuop

@renxzs

@rowanaelinn

@s-uppertime

@sarahjswift

@staghorn-mountains

@superspiritfestival

@swankii-art-teacher

@thegreyj

@throneofus7

@violet-mermaid7

@wishfulimaginings

[no6secretsanta]

A Very Merry New Year

From: @fairysdarkestnight

For: @mariaashby64

Happy holidays!

*

“Nezumi, what are you doing? You know that’s not where we put the champagne. You’re acting like this is the first year we’re hosting this party.”

The berated man rolled his eyes and held back the sarcastic retort that danced on the edge of his tongue. Why the hell would they not keep the champagne with the literal champagne fountain. 

Ding dong.

Nezumi swore under his breath and checked the grandfather clock, which hadn’t yet struck 7. She was always at least half an hour early, and while he appreciated that type of punctuality among his patrons, a small get together did not require people to be on time, much less half an hour early. Not that a small thing like etiquette or respect for others ever stopped Safu from doing what she wanted. On a normal day, Nezumi respected that part of her. But when he was helping host a party, well, sometimes he wished that Elyurias had restored her without that particular quirk.

As murmured greetings between the two old friends reached Nezumi’s ears, he took a deep breath and turned to welcome Safu. Before the woman had even taken off her gloves, Nezumi shoved the box of champagne bottles into her hands. “Here. Find a place for these.” 

A sly smile crossed her lips. “Funny. I would think you would know where these go already. This is what, the third year already that you and Shion are hosting? And they always go in the corner near the succulents.”

A glare, a sigh, and then a smile. “Lovely as always to see you Safu. I do hope you’ll forgive me. But now that you’re here, you can tell me all the things I’ve forgotten about hosting. In fact, I don’t think Shion even needs me here if you know exactly how he likes everything. So you can just take care of this and I’ll take a quick walk around the block. Might be back in an hour or two. It’s a rather large block after all.”

“Nezumi, if you walk out that door right now, I’m not letting you back in until next year.” 

“You’ve been making that joke for the last week. It’s not as much of a threat as you think it is. Besides, who else would you kiss at midnight, Your Majesty?”

* * *

The ticking of the clock seemed nonexistent as the party was in full swing. Rikiga was trying to convince Karan to let him become Shion’s stepfather, and Nezumi’s mice were chasing Inukashi’s dogs around the house. Even little Karan and Rico were taking turns reading from Hamlet, with Safu and Inukashi acting as their extras.

The planning and setup for Shion’s annual New Year’s Eve party was chaotic, and although Shion would work him to the bone, Nezumi found himself feeling content as the year drew to a close. Not that he would tell anyone that. He had an image to uphold, afterall. 

But seeing Shion laughing as he took the champagne from Rikiga’s hand reminded Nezumi of why he came back after all this time. Being able to travel and see the world and find the pieces of his culture that No.6 tried to take from him healed that part of him that he’d thought lost all those years ago. And there was a part of him that thought he would never come back, that he’d leave Shion as the one happy memory of No.6 and nothing more.

But no matter how far he wandered or the people he met, he never felt that home could be a person as much as he did during those few months in the West Block with Shion. And that feeling is what brought him back. And it was that feeling that kept him here year after year.

It wasn’t like him to be so sentimental. But when he saw Shion laughing and enjoying the time he spent with everyone… well no one would blame him if they knew.

When there was only five minutes until midnight, Shion made his way to the  front of the room, grabbing a glass of champagne on his way. 

“The last few years have been difficult, but we’ve made it through whether that was by reconnecting with old friends or by making new ones. We’ve learned what it really means to be human and that the thoughts and emotions that we thought lost to us were what saved us in the end. I am incredibly grateful for each and every one of you, and everything that you’ve brought into my life. So tonight is about celebrating what has been and what will be. May this year be even better than the last, and may we bring just a little more joy into the world. Happy New Year!”

The clock struck midnight as Shion raised his glass in a toast. As everyone echoed the toast and drained their glasses, Nezumi made his way to Shion’s side. “Quite the speech Your Majesty. But there was one thing you missed.”

Shion’s brow furrowed. “But I spent hours thinking about that speech. I know I could’ve said a few more words, but I didn’t think I was missing anything significant. And the timing was impossible to get down.”

Nezumi smiled a little. “You’re still such an airhead. It’s New Year’s. What’s the most important thing for every person to usher in the new year with?”

WIthout waiting for a response, Nezumi leaned over and brushed his lips against Shion’s.

A kiss.

[hauntedjohnny]

FLOWER POWER

sissy slaughter x sister-in-law!reader

wc: 3.3k tw: NON-CON, sex pollen, thigh riding, oral sex, fingering, strap-on sex, breath play, overstimulation, somno(?), face-sitting, cuck!johnny i guess

MINORS DNI

Sissy had been staring at you the entire afternoon. You were wearing her shirt. A slip from Bubba holding a glass of water was all it took. It stretched in all the right places, your braless form on show for anyone to see. What threw her over the edge, however, was when you sat on the back porch de-seeding the sunflowers. Your fingers rubbed in circles at the head clenched between your thighs, releasing the beads in a small tray below you. The autumn afternoon sun left a light film on your head, a gentle breeze exposing your neck, cooling the sensation. You were an enticing meal. She had to get you alone.

"Hiya sweetie, what d'ya say about coming to pick some flowers with me? Some girl-time away from these idiots."

You grin at the invitation, nodding in acceptance, hoping she didn’t see the initial confusion in your eyes. When you first met her, you thought she hated you. You and Sissy will get on like a house of fire, trust me, she could make friends with a fly. Johnny couldn’t have been more wrong. Always staring, lips pulled taut, few words shared. You tried to befriend her, but she’d feign busyness whenever you fumbled your way into conversation. You didn’t know how you made her run hot, jealousy running through her blood every time you stared at Johnny with those doe eyes, lust making her blood pound every time she breathed you in. She’s off-limits. Johnny’s voice rang through her head. She knew he wasn't talking about sex, so was she really off-limits? Oh, how Sissy needed to taste you, hear you squeal for her, show you her ways.

"Let me get changed real quick and I'll meet ya back here."

She leaves before you can question her need to change, but you shrug it off, deciding to tell Johnny your whereabouts instead. With a swift kiss on the cheek and a warning about being back before dark, you leave the family house arm in arm with Sissy. Her unchanged appearance went unnoticed as the fields of flowers came into view.

"I have got so much to show you." She giggled, locking the gate behind her.

The vast fields were quiet, a light hum from Sissy filling the void. You trailed behind her as she went to different patches, brushing your hand against the stems, appreciating the nectar scent whenever something piqued your fancy. She observed how you interacted with the flowers, giggling whenever your nose kissed the stamen. As they went deeper into the fields, the flowers in her basket became more abundant. Petals, leaves, stems and roots were crammed together. The empty glass jar was the only thing void of life. Sissy knew she couldn't hold out any longer.

“Could you be a doll and fill this jar with the pollen from those flowers over there?” She said, pointing at a small patch of maroon.

You nodded with an eager smile as she shoves the glass jar into your chest. Always happy to help. You skip over to the sea of red as Sissy watches your retreating form. With a click, the lid opens and you start tapping the flowers, causing spores to fall from the buds into the glass. Gentle fingers stroke each silky petal, fingers turning a darker red with each touch. You couldn't help yourself. The aroma was an invitation for your nose, sticking it deep within the petals. The sweet smell was intoxicating, breathing so deeply you could taste it on your tongue. Your nose tried to warn you, sneezing to expel the rusty dust swirling around you, but the damage had already been done. It was five minutes later when you felt it; the jar was half full, your brain felt like it was going to explode. Closing the half-filled jar, you staggered towards Sissy, eyebrows furrowed as you began to see double.

“You alright, sugar?” Sissy queried, raising an eyebrow at your distressed figure.

“I think the afternoon sun is catching up on me. I'm gonna make my way back.” You reply, running your hand across your forehead, hoping to soothe the ache.

“Nonsense." She waved you off. "Go perch yourself on that patch of grass; we’ll leave together when I’m finished.” She went back to her flowers, the smirk on her face going unnoticed by you.

Your body follows her command like a dog obeying its owner, too focused on the sweat forming on your neck to stand your ground. The heat in your head surges down your body until it settles deep in your core. Knees dirtied as your legs gave way beneath you, writhing in the grass as a cramp soars through you. Your jaw clenches as you try to breathe through it. You wished Johnny was here.

The soft material of your shirt rubbing against your nipple made your writhing stop. You were left frozen at the sensation as your brain tried to catch up to the feeling, small whimpers leaving your mouth. Another shift caused it to catch on the hardened bud again, the feeling rougher as your nipples grew more sensitive. A moan slipped out before you could stop it, catching the attention of the woman nearby. The sensation became unbearable, mimicries of the touch your body needed. Tears sprung in your eyes as the shirt started to feel like sandpaper abrading your skin. It felt like you were suffocating.

You peeled the sweat-stained shirt off your body without a second thought; the cool breeze soothing the fire on your chest was the only thing your mind could focus on. Sissy's shadow looming over you went unnoticed until she let out a small chuckle at the sight of you on your back, squirming uncomfortably. Your eyes fluttered open, steely eyes dragging up your body to meet them, pupils so large they eclipse the reflection of the low sun. Dizziness took over as she brought her face close to yours; four eyes stare down at you as your vision blurred. The proximity was smothering. Another cramp brought your knees to your chest, a subconscious barrier preventing Sissy from getting closer, or perhaps, a barrier preventing you from succumbing to temptations.

“You poor thing.” Sissy cooed, bringing her hand to gently cup your face.

“I think you should go get Johnny.” You choke out, tears turning the girl in front of her into nothing but a blur.

Ignoring your comment, she began circling the wetness on your face with her thumb. The ghost of Johnny’s kiss melted under the heat of your cheeks. You followed her hand with your lips like a bloodhound; staggered breaths landed on her palm as you inhaled her grassy scent. Lips brushed against her skin, the only source of comfort you could find. Your body was starved for touch. Another wave of pain sends your legs into Sissy's stomach, a winded huff leaving her throat at the impact. The grip on your jaw grows tighter. You stifle a moan in the back of your throat before uttering the words Sissy didn't want to hear.

“Want... Johnny...” Your voice was higher, strained.

You fidget below her, the last bit of sense fending for itself, pushing her away with your legs. Your hand goes to grab her wrist, but it's slapped away before you can make contact. A hardness glazed over her eyes. She was trying not to snap as she wrestled with your flailing legs.

“I wouldn't try that if I were you,” she snarled through gritted teeth.

A sharp slap on your thigh caused you to fall rigid, the feeling going straight to your cunt. Winning the fight, she brings her grass-stained fingers to your throat, causing your body to go limp with submission. With tangled legs, her thigh wedges itself between your own. A cruel smile creeps on her face at your compliance.

“There’s nothin’ he can do for you that I can’t.”

Dread drowns your body as you stared at Sissy, biting your trembling lip in contemplation. Her hand grew heavy around your throat, the other sending soothing sparks as it thumbed your shorts, causing your mind to grow cloudier, her touch overwhelming your system. Before you can stop it, a loud sob spills from your throat, tears streaming down your face. You were terrified of Johnny's reaction. You were terrified that you didn't hate what was happening. You needed her. Another wave coursed through you as your hips jolted towards Sissy, grinding against her thigh without thinking. Your sobs turn to that of relief.

Embarrassed by the way your hips move against your will, your eyes clench shut, unable to confront the smug look on Sissy's face. Your pitiful motions spoke for themself — you needed her the way she needed you. Rutting harder, you throw your arms over your face as your cunt throbs with humiliation. Your mind screams at you to stop, but your legs cross behind her, pulling her taut against your body as you try to find your high. Wet kisses are peppered down your neck towards your breasts, a trail of goosebumps following in their wake. You stifle a moan at the back of your throat. Each movement was filled with desperation, her sharp tongue wanting to taste every inch of your skin.

The relief wears off, the confines of your shorts growing tighter, your body wanting to feel Sissy’s skin against it. You push at your shorts in desperation. Sissy, understanding your pitiful whines, untangles herself and strips them from your legs. Before you can bring her back to your heat, she leans down and pushes your thighs apart. You try to resist, whining like a brat as she denies you friction. She sends a glare your way, raising an eyebrow as her nails dig deeper into your thighs at the outburst.

"Such a pretty thing. This all for me?" She bites, staring into your hooded eyes. The taunt in her voice was so soft it made you hazy.

Your underwear is slick, the wetness revealing the contours of your folds. Goosebumps erupt down your body as her nose nudges at your covered clit. Arousal glistens in her eyes as she breathes in deeply, the scent of your own arousal infecting her senses. A silent gasp turned into a strained moan as Sissy licked a broad stroke across your cunt. Before you could make another sound, your sodden underwear was stripped off your body and shoved between your gasping lips. The coolness hitting your slick made your breath hitch. Every hair on your body was alert as Sissy's hot breath hit your hot cunt. Your fingers tangle into her hair in silent plea, urging her closer.

"Y'need me to touch you, sugar?"

You can feel the smirk against your mound. She trails her finger across your glistening lips, cruelly avoiding your engorged clit. She watches it twitch in anticipation, her mouth watering at your desire. She can't hold back any longer, plunging her tongue deep into your folds, your taste covering every inch of her mouth. You scream at the sensation, thighs clamping around her face, eyes rolling deep into your head. Sissy's tongue flicks at your swollen bud, causing you to tug harder at her hair, back arching as you try to chase the feeling. The broad strokes returned to your folds, drinking your addictive sweetness. She was exploring every nook and cranny with her tongue, losing herself to the taste of you; she had waited so long for this; she was going to savour it.

Your wetness falls to the grass below, weeping for more. Sissy couldn't help but concede to your demands. Nudging your thigh with her shoulder, she spreads your petals with her slender finger, tracing at the entrance. Stuttering moans slip through your stuffed lips as her exploration advances inside. Her fingers were nothing compared to the thick, calloused ones you were used to, and yet you could feel every ridge of her finger stroking your walls. You were so sensitive to her touch. The squelch of your wetness suctioning against her finger spurred her on. She knew you could take more, your body was begging for it. Three slender fingers were welcomed, your walls clenching around them in greeting. She curled them as she thrust them in and out at a steady pace. You drooled at the feeling.

"S'like you were made for me, doll."

Sissy kissed at your abandoned clit, throbbing against her lips for attention. Her tongue drew slow circles around it in perfect rhythm. The fire over your body centralised in your core, nails gripping at her scalp as you pulled her flush against you. A laugh escaped her, vibrating against your bud and into your cunt. Her fingers were nimble, prodding at corners you didn't know were there, scratching an itch you didn't know you had. With every thrust of her fingers, with every roll of her tongue, you were falling deeper into her trap; you were her perfect plaything. She wanted you to come for her, so that's what you did. You cried out to the skies as you drenched her fingers. She brought them to her lips, her tongue diving between each digit, savouring the flavour to memory. The wetness on her chin glistened in the setting sun — she knew she didn't have much longer with you.

A ravenous glint sparkled in her eye as she admired your trembling body, chest heaving as you try to breathe through your clogged nose and gagged mouth. A gasp of air entered your lungs as she removed your underwear, using it to wipe at her mouth before pocketing it. She couldn't wait any longer; you were nothing but a rag-doll for her to manhandle, body eager to fulfill her every desire. Your slick cunt was exposed to the world as you were rolled over, ass pulled towards the sky. A heaviness was felt against your back. It was familiar but different; cooler and harder, unnatural. You peer behind through wet lashes to see a dildo strapped to Sissy's waist. A gasp flew out of your mouth when you registered the size. Sure, Johnny was big, but you'd never seen a cock so thick. Sissy's finger tips were unable to meet as she dragged it between your dripping folds.

"You don't have to be scared. Just clear your mind." She consoled, palms fondling the flesh of your ass.

She was right. All thoughts scattered from your mind as she pushed into you. The brutality of the stretch burned as the tip breached your opening, slowly fizzling into pleasure as the rest of her cock follows. Your arousal made it easy as she settled deep into you, every nerve end singing for Sissy. Her hands drag across your back, claws leaving embossed trails as they stake claim over your skin. Just as you adjusted to her size, she pulls out and slams into you. Your arms give way, face hitting the floor. You shove your face into the earth to mask the pathetic groans falling from your lips. The sex-fuelled oath of being Johnny’s was overwritten by a single thrust.

“Does Johnny treat you this good? No, I’m sure he just uses you for his own sake. Don’t think of anyone but himself. It’s okay, I’ll take care of you, sweet thing.” Sissy grunts through gritted teeth, as she continues to abuse your weeping cunt.

You whisper your sinful whines to the ground, your sweat, drool and tears irrigating the field. Sissy's thrusts become desperate and rough as she drives herself deeper into you. The divine light was hidden between your thighs and she was desperate for enlightenment. She wishes she could feel the way you clench around her but the way you howl for her makes up for it. Every thrust leaves you winded as you gasp for air against the dirt, brown smearing across your cheek at the force. Your fingers curl around the blades of grass to ground yourself, mud caking under your nails. The base of the strap smacks against your abused clit; all you can do it arch your back as she relentlessly pummels into you. Hitting the deep angles Johnny never had sent shivers up your spine. Pleasure blossoms in your core. You could feel her everywhere. Every part of you was hers for the taking.

Chants of her name accompany the slaps of skin as you reach your high, a harsh spank to your flesh sending you over the edge. Bright white stars explode behind your eyes as you scrunch them closed. Even as the light fades, her thrusts don't stop. She wanted more, the hunger in her eyes tunnelling in on your writhing body beneath her. You try to pull away, the sensation unbearable, but your legs are numb. All your aching muscles could do is collapse to the floor, Sissy's body following, capturing you against the grass as she ruts against you relentlessly. Pleasure turns to pain as the pollen begins to wear off, feeling the stretch like an inferno. You try to catch your breath, but every gasp panics you as dirt enters your lungs. The claiming mutterings of Sissy don't make it to your ears as your brain buzzes at the lack of oxygen. The world goes black as your body burns for her.

You were nothing but a rag-doll for Sissy to use. She pulled out of your unconscious body; the strap thrown aside as she traced your swollen chapped lips with her finger. It would be a shame to not take advantage. She lowered herself onto your face, slowly grinding on it to test the waters. A gleeful moan echoed as her clit bumped against your nose. She couldn't control herself. Your eyes begin to flutter open, lungs gasping for air, only to be met with her arousal coating your lips. Struggling against her hold, your nails dig into her thighs — an attempt to claw your way out. Your panicked wriggling encourages her to rut harder as your nose rubs against her bud. She gives into your pleading doe eyes, lifting for a moment to grant you a gasp of air before continuing her assault. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Wetness from her cunt meets the wetness of your tears, the sight bringing her closer to the edge as her thrusts become animalistic. The lack of oxygen makes you woozy, head spinning as she gushes on your face with an unabashed scream. Her grinding slows as she rides out her orgasm. The satisfaction on her face made you warm — you did that.

She pulled away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you, before grabbing your underwear and cleaning your face with it. Her movements were tender as she wiped away the tears and dirt off your cheeks, removing as much evidence of the night as she could. She held your head in her hands, waiting for your eyes to meet her own. A sinful smirk crept onto her face.

"We're gonna have so much girl-time together from now on; a perfect doll for me to play with..." she trailed off as she stroked your hair, head hanging heavy in her hands.

You were redressed before your brain could catch up to her words, too tired to realise she'd packed her things and left. Everything was still spinning, your body still tingling, shivering as a small breeze passes through the flower patches. The distant call for Johnny from a skipping Sissy fell to the back of your mind as you watch the sky gradate to black. You were content. A life of servitude and pleasure didn't seem so bad.

[mayisgoingnuts]

OH I AM SO BACK😈😈

It took about twenty minutes for them to get ready, well, for the girls to get ready. The boys had been done in ten minutes. “Why do girls take so long to get ready?” Robert groaned, then the two girls had walked out. “Why do you take so long?” Rai complained, two of the boys looked at Robert. He shrugged and muttered something about how she doesn’t normally give into her appearance. Everyone began to walk out instead of Rai, she stayed behind and shoved Radford off the couch before running outside. They were confused when she ran past them, until they saw Radford try to throw something at them from the door. Then they all had to run off to avoid whatever he was throwing, they all met up at a stop sign at the end of the street. Rai was laughing so hard she was lying on the ground. Elaine started to laugh with her, making fun of how she sounded like a spray bottle when she laughed. The boys just watched, Roy and Ross still gaining their breath. “WHY?! Why did you wake him up? There was no need!” Robert yelled out, “That’s the point! It was funny!” Rai could barely answer because she was laughing so hard. “He’s gonna yell at you when we get home, you know.” “I know, but I don’t care. I’m not scared of him.” She had managed to stop laughing after a minute and stood up to continue their walk.

After they made it to the shop they each got a small bag of candy. Roy ended up paying for the five of them. Rai felt bad about it but ended up sneaking some money back into his pocket. The group would leave and begin to just walk around town. They ended up stopping at the park to eat their candy and talk. Rai sat on the swings, Elaine was sitting on the platform ontop of the slide, Roy was sitting under said platform where there was a chair. Ross and Robert just sat on the small rocks used as a base for the playground. They would talk for a while, about really useless things. “Okay, but there’s a very clear difference between alligators and crocodiles.” Elain argued, “If it’s a clear difference then why does no one know?!” Robert yelled back, but before Elaine could answer a handful of the rocks were thrown at her. She looked back to see who or what did it, but she didn’t see anyone. No one really seemed to notice her turning around, since they were still arguing. Rai noticed how quiet she was soon enough though. She hopped off the swings and went to sit on the slide with Elaine. Mid-argument a handful or rocks had been thrown at Ross, he didn’t say anything about it. Thinking maybe it was Rai from on top of the slide. They all stopped talking when the street lights around them went off.

Rai was one of the first to react, after a moment of staying still out of fear she got her phone and turned on the flashlight. Then the others pulled out their phones for light. Elaine tried to turn on her flashlight but her phone was on a very low percentage. So she just put it away, deciding to stay close to someone at all times. “Why do you think the lights turned off?” Elaine questioned, “Some sort of power outage, but that doesn’t make sense. I can see houses with power.” Rai thought about the possibility of it just being maintenance or something in that matter. “No way it’s an outage! If it was the streetlights down the block wouldn’t be on.” Roy argued, “They’re all connected with different wires and different sources of power. The ones down the block don’t have the same power source, they wouldn’t be off.” Rai explained, growing frustrated. This only caused yet another argument between the group of kids. None of them noticed how their surroundings melted together. Trees from the forest behind them now circled them. None had noticed the changes until they found themselves frozen. Some kind of substance wrapped around them, almost lifting them up. Half tried to run, half tried to fight it. When Elaine brushed her hand against it she almost threw up in response. “Ew! It- it doesn’t feel slimy- it feels-” She couldn’t even describe it, so Rai decided to try and touch it, ‘for knowledge’ she told herself. She had to turn her head soon after. “Why is it so cold? It feels like..grease?” It confused her, but her fear overran her confusion. “What is THAT?!” Robert yelled, everyone turned to look at what he saw.

Some kind of figure stared back with bright, glowing eyes. It looked to be made of the same substance. Its arms reached the ground and its legs were so high up on its body, making its chest and all look small. As it began to slither near them they panicked more, kicking and screaming to see if anyone could hear them. But the only answer was an echo of unanswered cries. The creature almost looked like it was limping, it took a while to get to the middle of the circle of kids. Roy was yelling threats at the creature, Rai was yelling at him to stop threatening it. Then out of nowhere the creature flung an arm up, it stretched in an unnatural way. It covered Roy’s eyes, everyone began to yell. Terrified of what it was doing to their friend and what it might do to them. When it moved it’s hand of his eyes he almost looked limp. His eyes glowing the same color as the creatures, as his head hung Robert yelled out to the monster. “WHAT DID YOU DO?! Don’t- DON’T HURT HIM!” Then the creature did the same to Robert, causing Rai to yell out in fear for her brother. “Let him go! He hasn’t done anything! Neither of them have!” Then it did the same to her, Ross and Elaine stayed quiet, thinking that might be why it’s doing this. It slowly looked at Ross, then Elaine, then both of it’s arms flung outward. Covering both of their eyes. When they had gone limp, the substance holding them up disappeared, causing them to fall to the ground. But they did’t wake up, they just laid there. Some mumbled to themselves, some were twitching, like they were reacting to a dream. Rather a nightmare really.

Tee hee💕💕

WH

HOLY CRAP/POS

[pagingdoctorbedlam]

ok so here's my idea

czerny taps horns/antlers with ebenholz and its just a gay little thing they do.

and hibiscus sees it and goes "what was that"

and theyre both like.. "uh oh that? oh. thats embarassing. you werent supposed to see"

(I've actually had similar thoughts before about Ebenholz showing affection through little goat-headbutts...but this idea is super cute. Now you've gone and inspired a ficlet. I hope you're happy. XD)

As with most habits Czerny had picked up since joining Rhodes Island, this one was Ebenholz's fault.

Czerny had never been big on physical affection. Hands to himself, content to acknowledge others with a nod or even a half-bow, not too keen on unexpected contact with anyone. Ebenholz tried to carry himself in much the same way, was nothing but unfailingly polite, but it was clear to anyone who spent more than five minutes with him that the Caprinae was starved for touch and attention both.

The first time had caught Czerny off guard. He'd been working on a composition, practicing a progression so quick he had to play hand-over-hand to reach the notes in time, when he'd felt a solid tap against one of his antlers. He'd startled, wracking his brain over what he might've accidentally hit with them (it had taken quite some time to get used to most of the landship's doorways), only to find Ebenholz standing there.

"You've been here for hours now. It's dinner time. Up with you."

"Right. Did you...knock on my antler?"

"You didn't hear me the first time, but I also did not want to risk being smacked."

Czerny almost retaliated that he would never, but then again, he did once accidentally give Chiave a bloody nose after the man had unexpectedly slapped him on the back. That had been embarrassing enough, though it also somehow earned the so-called gang leader's respect. A confusing man, that one.

He'd thanked Ebenholz, and joined him for dinner in what quickly became routine. Seemed that wherever Czerny might end up, Ebenholz could always seek him out if needed, and would always catch his attention by tapping one of his horns to Czerny's antlers. It was reminiscent of the Caprinae and Elafia children back home, often headbutting each other to play or get attention from their parents. (Not that Czerny had ever done the same...much.) Perhaps such was a habit Ebenholz had never quite outgrown?

Still, Czerny didn't realize how routine it had become until one day when he was asked to grab Ebenholz from the trading post. The young man barked orders and verbally cut down traders who tried to swindle him with all the authority of a former Graf Urtica, and Czerny certainly didn't wish to throw him off. So he approached quietly, waited for an opportune moment, and leaned over to tap an antler against Ebenholz's horn.

The young man turned, and broke out into a grin that somehow made his entire ashen-pale face seem bright. "Ah, Czerny. Is my shift over already? Forgive me for losing track of the time...shall we get going, then?"

Something about that expression did a funny thing to Czerny's stomach. He must've been hungrier than he thought. Surely that was all. He shoved the idea that it might mean anything more so thoroughly out of his mind that he didn't think about it again until months later.

A combat mission had just wrapped up. Ebenholz had made it back to the transport first, sitting in a dark corner with his eyes shut to block out an oncoming headache. Czerny took the seat next to him, waiting a moment to announce his presence with a tap. Ebenholz glanced up at him from under his bangs and smiled.

Except this time, someone noticed. A someone called Hibiscus. "Oh, what was that? Some sort of Leithanien greeting?"

Czerny's eyes shot up to meet hers. She was smiling, but it was more than her usual peaceful grin. No, there was a spark behind this one. Sly, some might call it, as if "sly" and "Hibiscus" could ever be put in the same sentence together.

"It is..." Czerny found himself at a loss for words. What was this, really? It had long gone beyond a simple greeting, but he didn't have the words for what it had become. It was a way to say "I'm here" without words. A halfway point between needing to touch and not wanting to be touched at all. An assurance. Trust.

"It's just a little thing we do," Ebenholz answered, soft but with an air of finality that invites no further conversation on the matter. "Do not worry yourself overmuch about it, Fraulein."

"Right, of course. Well, if neither of you are hurt, I'll let you get to it." Hibiscus had the audacity to wink at them as she walked away. The duo waited until she was gone to look at each other and silently ask: what were they really doing? What was this thing between them, really?

They didn't answer aloud. Ebenholz inclined his head. Czerny tapped, antler to horn. The pair smiled and settled in for the ride back. And when Ebenholz leaned against him and closed his eyes, Czerny found he didn't mind that so much either.

[writerraylaemery]

Something Deeper Chapter One: Realizations

Buck:

I can’t tell you when Eddie became my other half. It was a slow process. The result of trial after trial in which he was strength when I didn’t have any and heart when mine was seemingly cold and dead. The truth is, I long ago stopped envisioning my life without him in it. Yet, here I am, facing the very real possibility.

Looking back, I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. I’d had my fair share of relationships come and go since we met. And I couldn’t help but wonder if WE were the reason none of them worked out. Was this a thing all along? Were the women I dated all thinking it? Unwilling to call me on it till now? These are the questions racking my brain as I sit on the stairs of my apartment. I hadn’t intended to perch here. It was just where I landed when the realization of what was happening kicked in. 

Aubrey was gone. She’d packed everything she owned while looking at me with a disappointed expression. Because she knew I couldn’t deny it. I cared about Eddie more than her. What she didn’t realize, what not even I had realized until that moment, was that I cared about Eddie more than any woman I’d dated since him and I faced that bomb together. 

To make matters worse, Eddie texted me ten minutes ago telling me that Lucy had broken up with him that morning. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. I just headed upstairs to grab my keys so I could head over to his place and make sure he was okay. It hit me when I was halfway down the stairs on my way out the door. Aubrey and Lucy had become best friends over the last six months. There was no way that them both dumping us within twenty-four hours of each other was a coincidence. 

No, this was planned. Which means they both knew Eddie was more than just a friend to me. And I wasn’t naive enough to believe that Lucy didn’t tell him that when she broke up with him. 

The realization that I would have to face Eddie and explain all of this before I had time to even process it myself was what glued me to my spot. This was going to wreck our friendship. Because even if I denied it till my last breath, Eddie would see right through me. He always did. And up until this moment, it was one of the things I liked about him.

The ping from my cell phone clutched in my hands echoed off the walls of my apartment, drawing my attention down. Catching sight of the message preview on my lock screen, my chest tightened at the words staring up at me. 

EDDIE: Buck, I can see you read my text.

I stared, unmoving down at my phone. Shit. If I didn’t open this one, he wouldn’t know I saw it. But yet, my thumb hovered over the screen with the same anticipation it did anytime he texted me. Itching to swipe and reply. Any choice I had in the matter was quickly taken away from me when my phone pinged again.

EDDIE: Fine. Don’t answer me. I’ll be over in ten.

Panic filled my chest before denial took hold. I didn’t know for sure that Lucy told him. I didn’t even know for sure that Lucy knew. Everything would be okay. I just had to act like nothing was out of the ordinary. 

My front door flew open five minutes later. “Buck!” Eddie hollered as his form appeared from behind the door. I straightened my spine as he spotted me, coming to a dead stop. His large hand still gripped the door handle. 

“Uh, hey Eddie. I thought you said ten minutes.” The words came out weak and uncertain. We were both still for a beat. Each just staring at the other. It was Eddie who broke the silence. Closing the door behind him. 

“I knew you got my messages.” He told me; catching sight of my phone in my hand. His tone was level but held a familiar teasing I’d become used to. It gave me hope that this may not be as bad as I was expecting. 

I watched Eddie turn and head for my kitchen. Pushing myself up, I followed behind him, dropping my keys and phone onto the counter as Eddie pulled open the fridge. He snatched two amber bottles from inside before shoving it closed and using the bottle opener on his key ring to pop the tops. I raised an eyebrow as he offered one out to me. “It’s eleven am.” I noted. 

His expression told me he didn’t give a damn. “It’s Saturday and we have the weekend off.” He took a long drink. Adding when he came up for air. “Plus, I just got dumped. Which I know you’re aware of because you read my texts.”

Sucking my bottom lips between my teeth, I resigned myself to today being a complete shit show and accepted the bottle he held out to me. Taking a drink in hopes it’d help relax my nerves. “Yeah. Sorry about that.” I offered.

Eddie looked at me expectantly, but thankfully, didn’t push the matter. 

“You doing okay?” I asked in the growing silence. 

In true Eddie Diaz form, he shook his head, shrugged and took another long drink from his beer. 

“How’s Christopher taking it?” I tried, struggling to figure out a way to keep the conversation normal. This time, I actually got an answer. 

“He doesn’t know.” He told me. “He spent the night over at Tia’s 

“Oh.” We fell silent as we drank. But I would have taken the silence anyday over what came next. 

“Where’s Aubrey?” Eddie asked, glancing around the apartment. 

My heart hammered out of my chest, and I took a deep breath before responding. “Funny story actually.” I began, watching my best friend raise an eyebrow at me. I forced a chuckle. “You're not the only one that got dumped recently.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Seriously?” I nodded in response before chugging a good portion of my beer. Eddie’s face turned serious. “Did she give a reason?” 

The panic was only getting worse, but I shoved it down deep. To the same place I hide my anxiety on tough calls. My eyes locked onto the floor, unable to meet his as I lied. “She said I wasn’t committed enough.” 

Alright, so it wasn’t entirely a lie. 

When Eddie didn’t immediately answer, I glanced up to find him studying me. His eyes weren’t playful or teasing anymore. Nor did they hold the sympathy that one typically got from their friends after a break up. No, he was looking at me cautiously. As if I held the answer to a question I wasn’t aware of and he wasn’t sure he wanted an answer to. Being under that gaze made me uneasy. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and polished off what was left in my beer. All while Eddie watched me with an ease that told me whatever was going through his mind, wasn’t as uncomfortable for him.

Finally, unable to bear the antsy feeling anymore, I placed my bottle on the counter behind me before pushing off the counter and plastering a big smile on my face. I motioned past the stairs to my living room. “But hey, at least I got to keep the couch this time.” 

I had thought he would laugh. But his curious expression never faltered. “Buck, I picked out that couch.” He reminded me. As if I’d forgotten. 

Even I heard the shakiness in my voice when I responded. “Right…well…” I didn’t finish. Instead, nerves getting the best of me, I made a beeline for the fridge for another beer. My hand had just hit the handle when Eddie’s voice sounded from beside me.

“Aren’t you going to ask what Lucy gave me for a reason?” 

I froze in place, hand still on the handle. I knew from the ice that ran through my veins that this was it. This was the moment that everything changed. Because his voice held a challenge. He may have asked a question, but it was anything but. My breath came out in jagged pieces as I released the handle and turned towards him. 

Everything about his appearance would seem relaxed and casual to someone looking on. The way he leaned back against the counter, the beer bottle in his hand, the softness in his eyes. But it was the tightness in the corner in the corners of his mouth where it tipped up into the tiniest grin, that gave him away. 

And just like that, my worst fears were realized. “Wha- what did she say?” 

Eddie pushed effortlessly off the counter, turning to face me directly as he stood no more than two feet away. I suddenly couldn’t tell from his expression what to expect. What he was thinking. He reached out in the space between us and tapped me in the center of my chest with the neck of his bottle. “She told me that you and I will never love anyone, as much as we love each other.” 

It felt like someone took a vacuumed and sucked all of the air out of the room. Lucy hadn’t just thrown me under the bus, she’d tried to drag Eddie with me. And that was a lot worse. Because I could handle being mad at me for screwing up his relationship. I could hide and deny whatever extra feelings I had for Eddie in order to sustain our friendship. But what I wouldn’t be able to survive is Eddie bluntly and directly rejecting me. And that was exactly what Lucy had just given him the ammunition to do. 

I forced out a disbelieving chuckle, that didn’t sound anywhere as convincing as I needed it to. “What?”

Eddie raised his brow at me again. Clearly not buying my ignorance. Why did the man have to be able to read me like a book? Realizing playing dumb wasn’t going to work, I switched tactics. 

“Eddie, we’re firefighters. Our bond is literally forged in fire.” The words brought a small smile to my face despite being terrified. Because, while it was a deflection, it was also the truth. 

He looked down at the bottle in his hands and bit down on his bottom lip as his brows creased together. It was as if he were biting back something he wanted to say. When he looked back up at me, there was no anger on his face; no accusation. He looked…frustrated. “She didn’t say we had a bond, Buck.” His eyes grew more serious. “She said we loved each other.” 

I didn’t miss the pain laced into his words. It sent a knife slicing into my heart to know that being accused of loving me hurt him. But I pushed through. “Of course we love each other Eddie.” I tried as I felt my hands start to tremble. “You don’t literally save someone’s life on multiple occasions before you don’t care. You and I have had each other’s backs in the worst case scenarios. No one we date will ever truly understand that.”

My words almost seemed to hurt him more. His brows knitted farther together between his dark eyes. His gaze darted around the room, looking anywhere but at me. His chest heaved under heavy breaths. Finally, his eyes met mine again. “Is that all it is?” His adams apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. 

When the lightning struck me on top of that ladder, my heart stopped for over three minutes. I didn’t remember anything about it. But what I did know was that dying didn’t hurt as bad as this moment. The pain and fear that ripped through my chest in that moment, were what it feels like when your heart stops, but it doesn’t actually kill you. 

I had a choice. I could tell Eddie the truth, that somehow, some way, he’d become more to me than simply a best friend. Even though I currently had no idea what that actually meant. Or, I could deny it. And as images of the bomb and the well, the bullet in Eddie’s chest and lightning filled my mind, I knew there was only one thing to do. “What…what else would it be?”

The entire room went still. Seconds ticked by as Eddie and I stood there staring at each other in a silent standoff. Until Eddie let out a breath so big, it seemed to actually deflate him. His eyes fell to the floor again. “You know, I really thought you and I could have a real conversation for once.” His words were so soft, I almost didn’t hear him. 

“We have real conversations all the time.” I argued. 

His head came back up. His eyes looked straight through me. “Then tell me the real reason Aubrey broke up with you.” He challenged. 

It felt like he hit me with a battering ram. I stood there, frozen in place, mouth hanging open slightly as I fought to find words. And when I couldn’t, Eddie sighed. He placed his beer bottle on the counter beside him. His mouth was drawn into a hard line. 

“I have to go get Christopher.” His words sounded defeated. And as I watched him walk towards the door, I saw the familiar slump in his shoulders. I’d seen it hundreds of times in my career. It was the stance all firefighters got after a tough call. When you’re trying to be okay even though you aren’t. 

“Eddie!” I called after him. My plea was answered by the sound of my front door shutting behind him. 

****

Eddie:

“Dad, are you sad because Lucy left?” 

I looked over at Christopher as he laid back on the couch beside me. His head, resting on the back cushions, was turned to look at me. “No, bud. I’m not sad about Lucy.” I admitted.  “Are you?” 

He thought it over for a second before shrugging. “I liked her.” He said simply. 

I closed my eyes and remembered a conversation I’d had with Buck after the Tsunami. I’d told him that despite my flaws, I never stopped trying to fail Christopher. Looking back on it now, I couldn’t help but feel like I lied. At least when it came to relationships. 

Chris deserved to have two parental figures in his life. Two people that loved him unconditionally and looked out for him always. He deserved a proper family. I’d had a few opportunities to give that to him in the past. But I’d always messed it up. And over the last few years, I had messed it up because of Buck. 

I’d long ago locked away this part of myself. The part that could, and would, fall in love with a man. It would never be accepted. Not by my family and not by most of society. But from the day I met Buck, that part of me began kicking at the door it was trapped behind; determined to break the lock. 

Alright bud, it’s time for bed.” Christopher groaned but didn’t put up a fight as he pushed off the couch and headed for his room. 

Fifteen minutes later, as I tucked him into bed, Chris looked up at me. His eyes unfocused without his glasses. “You’ll find someone dad. And they’ll love us as much as we love them.”

I looked down at my son in awe. When did my little man grow up and become so wise? “You think so?” 

He nodded. “I know you will.” 

Kneeling down beside him, I propped my arms up on the side of his bed. “What do you know about love?” I asked him. 

He snuggled deeper into his comforter before answering. “ I know I love you. And abuela and Buck. I know I love video games and the park.” 

I chuckled at his answer before his words washed over me. “You love Buck huh?” 

A smile formed on his face. “Yeah.” It was all he said before he closed his eyes. 

I kissed his forehead before pushing off his floor. I turned off his light as I headed out into the hall, pausing just outside his door. “Me too bud.” I whispered to myself. “Me too.”

Later that night, I laid awake in bed staring at the ceiling. In truth, nothing crazy had happened in the two days I’d been off work. But I felt like yesterday was full of big and exhausting moments, and I’d spent today dealing with the fallout. 

Lucy had left me. It honestly wasn’t something I was surprised about. One of the things being both Army and Fire teaches you is to pay attention to the small details. And I hadn’t missed the change in the way she looked at me. It’d gone from excitement and happiness to reservation in a matter of weeks. I tried to tell myself I was imagining it. But when she walked into the kitchen the previous morning, with her bag already on her shoulder and a guarded look, I knew it was the end. 

What I hadn’t expected was her throwing my loyalty to Buck in my face as the reason for her leaving. She’d said that no woman I dated was ever going to be what I needed because Buck was already filling the gaps in my life. He was my best friend, my sounding board. He was my rock as well as Christopher’s. 

I’d known most of these things already. I even knew I loved him. But what I didn’t realize until that moment was the extent of my love for him. Or just how much of an impact he had on every aspect of my life. 

When I got shot, there was a split second before I lost consciousness that I realized I could die. That this could be it. And my thoughts at that moment weren’t of my parents, or my job. They were of Christopher, and Buck, and how I knew, without any doubt, that they’d take care of each other. 

So, when Lucy had laid it out before me, I didn’t argue. I knew I couldn’t. Buck really had become everything to me. And it wasn’t fair for her or anyone else to pretend he wasn’t.  I had gone over to his place the previous day knowing that after all these years and everything we’d been through together, it was time to address it. Figure out if it was mutual. But when Buck had acted hesitant and told me Aubrey had broken up with him, I saw that Lucy hadn’t come to the conclusions she had about us alone. And he wasn’t anywhere near as ready to address it as I was. 

Read the full fic on AO3 @ https://archiveofourown.org/works/51492946/chapters/130135381

[sommerflue-22]

SWIPE RIGHT | Armin Arlert x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

One swipe to the right and you found yourself going on dates with Armin Arlert, loving how he treated you right. Who could possibly resist such a gentle and compassionate man? It's only a matter of time before he officially asked you to be his girlfriend...

Pairing(s): Armin Arlert x Fem!Reader

Warning: -

Word count: 617

Author Note

Hi, guys! This is the last part of the fic. Thank you for the likes, reblogs, and for reading until the end. This fic is also available on Ao3, it's a different version from this one. I'll publish more fic after this. Let me know if you have any request! <3

You haven’t heard anything from Armin in months. After that night you didn’t block his number. You kept your words that you would wait for him. However, it seemed like he decided to follow his parents’ will. Good for him, that’s what you’ve always told yourself. Even though you tried to convince yourself that it was for the best, you still locked yourself up in your apartment over the weekends. Your body sprawled on the sofa or on your bed, the delivery man knocked at least twice a day (or thrice, sometimes your friends sent you food). You tried your best every day to get up and go to work, but at the end of the day you missed his presence in your life. It’s crazy how a match from a dating app could turn your life upside down in a matter of weeks. Maybe you were meant to be together, maybe you just wanted to be in a romantic relationship. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

You slammed your laptop shut, causing Hitch to jump in her seat.

“You okay there (Y/N)?” Hitch asked.

“I’m fine.” You replied calmly. “Too many emails today, but I’m grateful they’re from our clients.”

“Yeah, it’s great. It’s not even the holiday season yet, can you believe it?”

“Well, I hope the sales keep increasing.” You shoved your laptop inside your bag, “You’re finished yet?”

“Nah, I think I’m leaving in half an hour. You go first.”

“Alright, see you tomorrow, Hitch.”

You left the store around fifteen minutes after five and walked to the bus stop nearby. You rubbed both of your hands together and blew hot air from your mouth…

…until it reminded you of that one particular night ride.

You shook your head and leaned against the bus stop sign. Even as the cold wind hit, you just shoved your hands inside your pocket. Your bus should arrive any minute. Impatient, you looked to your left, hoping to spot the blue bus. 

Instead, you noticed a really familiar black sedan with a plate number you recognized, parked only a few steps away from the bus stop. You held your breath as the door opened.

Armin stepped out from the vehicle, dressed casually in a white button-up with his sleeves rolled up. It seemed like he was alone because he didn’t rush to open the other door. You saw him sighed, white fog escaped from his lips. You caught yourself staring, right when Armin turned his head.

It was the first time you’d seen each other after that night. None of you moved. You weren’t sure if you should approach him. 

Armin raised his left hand to wave and that’s when you saw it. A silver ring on his fourth finger. 

Ah, you thought to yourself, that’s why.

You’ve never been happier when you saw your bus. As it pulled over, you nodded to him and smiled. Your chest tightened as he put his hand on his chest and nodded back. As if he was saying his last goodbye, thanking you for the memories.

“Miss, are you coming in or not?” The bus driver grunted.

“Yeah, I’m going.” You let your stare linger on Armin once again, before getting on the bus.

You sat in the very back of the bus, trying so hard not to look back.

However, your feelings got the best of you and you peeked over your shoulder.

Armin stayed still in his place, staring at your bus as it moved forward. You kept staring at him until the bus took a turn and you couldn’t see him anymore. 

You leaned back on your seat, closing your eyes and let out a sigh. 

Good bye, Armin.

This fic is also available on Ao3

[thatforgottenbasilisk]

"so long and goodnight" is just a more polite way to say "fuck off and fuck you"

Word Count: 2121 (AO3) (My Fic Masterpost)

Originally Posted on 11/27/2024

Rating: T

Summary:

Jon can't stand to watch Tim fall apart. Granted, everybody's falling apart, but, well... this one feels the most like it's his fault.

For Whumptober 2023 Day 17, Prompt #3: "Leave me alone."

"I told you a dozen fucking times, Jon. Leave me the hell alone."

"We are worried about you- " Jon tries to get through to Tim, at least a little bit, and if that means that he's bothering him during his smoke break, then so be it. Tim never used to take smoke breaks, Jon had honestly thought that Tim wasn't a smoker at all, and then everything happened; Sasha, Jon thinks, is what broke this particular camel's back, because it was only after they learned about her that Tim could reliably be found outside for fifteen-minute intervals at ten, twelve-thirty, and three on any given workday.

"You can worry about me on your own time, in your own office. Fuck. Off." Tim gets close enough that Jon can smell the cigarette smoke on him, though of course it's a smell that doesn't really fade off of him anymore. Jon wouldn't be surprised if he was a multiple-packs-a-day man, if he could hypothetically cram that much in forty-five minutes out of the workday, or else just chain smokes before and after work.

It's not like he can judge, really. He gets it; the habit he picked up in University- and it only took so long because Grandmother had sensitive lungs and she wouldn't allow it in her house- had taken years to shake, and he didn't even manage to fully kick it. Besides, it's not like there's much to worry about in the way of cancer, is there? If either of them lives long enough to get it, it'll be a miracle in its own right.

"Fine. Fine. Technically, this is company time and I'm still- I won't get into that." Jon starts to correct Tim about the 'your own time' comment, and just as quickly backpedals when he realizes that it's probably a really bad idea to pull rank right about now, especially for this kind of conversation.

Drastic measures, he thinks wryly to himself, as he digs in his own pocket for his own carton of cigarettes. "If you won't talk to me, then I'll use my own smoke break for its intended purpose." Jon says, and he's sure that a bit of his frustration has leaked into his voice. He pulls a cigarette out of the pack- and he's not even entirely sure of when he purchased this pack, it has to have been over a month ago and it's only half-empty, and he'd be proud of himself if it were any other circumstance and he wasn't in the middle of- of- well, he hates to call it a relapse, because he's not exactly about to light up the whole pack, but that's the best word he can think of.

"Do whatever the hell you want." Tim replies, tersely, and with a bit of resignation in his voice, like he's already arrived at the conclusion that nothing's going to get Jon away from this current situation aside from bodily dragging him back inside. Jon doesn't verbally respond, just takes it at face value, and lights his own cigarette and takes a drag.

They stand together in silence for a few minutes, before Tim takes the butt of his cigarette out of his mouth and drops it to the ground. He squishes it under his shoe, with quite a bit more force than Jon really thinks is necessary to extinguish it, but he's not about to say anything about it. That would just be causing more trouble than it's worth, at this point.

Tim shoves both his hands in his pockets, turns, and makes to storm back inside, but Jon- stupidly, impulsively, without even taking two seconds to think about the consequences of his actions- reaches out and catches him by the crook of the elbow.

Tim stops short as soon as he feels the resistance from Jon, as soon as it's clear that he's anchored himself to the spot. Well- if Tim really wanted to, there's not much that Jon could do to stop him from just continuing to walk, and either bulldozing past Jon or dragging him along, depending on how strong his grip is.

He looks back at Jon, after a moment, and roughly shoves Jon's hand away. Jon doesn't blame him for that particular move, and doesn't get upset about it, really; just pulls his hand back towards himself. Tim stays still, just staring, not saying a word. Jon waits, to see if Tim's going to say anything, and when he eventually decides to try again, to try to say something that Tim might listen to, Tim starts talking at the same time that he does.

Jon shuts up the second that it's clear they're both talking; he's not here to bulldoze him, contrary to how Tim is acting. Contrary to how Tim seems to feel like Jon is behaving, he's not here to steamroll or anything, just to try to have some semblance of a normal conversation, for just five minutes, maybe. That's all he's asking for.

"Don't act like either of us has anything left to say to each other." Tim grits out, and Jon takes half a step back, almost without realizing it. Jon thinks there's plenty left to be said, still, because maybe if he apologizes again and correctly, keeps talking and saying more words until he's eventually managed to get his point across in the way he's been trying to this entire time, maybe things won't be as horrible anymore.

Or maybe that's just the fact that he has said everything that really needed to be said, and he's unhappy with the result that it got him, and he somehow is still clinging to the hope that words can salvage anything.

"If this were- if circumstances even resembled normal, I'd have quit and blocked your number a long time ago by now. This isn't- I'm not here by choice, Jon, and I don't think that you've managed to actually absorb that." Tim sounds a little breathless, a little desperate, now, like he's at the end of his rope, like this is something he's reiterated a dozen different times in a dozen different ways and this is just the latest in a long chain of repeating the same message over and over again.

"I think I've absorbed it fine," Jon says anyway, "And the fact that you want to leave doesn't change the fact that you're still here, and I am still obligated to give a damn when you're driving yourself into the ground right in front of me. Yes, I know you'd rather be driving yourself into the ground literally anywhere else, but that's not the circumstance we find ourselves in, so at least let me help how I actually can."

Jon doesn't, exactly, know how he can help, in the hypothetical situation where Tim agrees to it; he can't exactly give Tim more vacation time, because it's not like he'd actually be able to use it; nor can he fire him, or undo any of the spying or anything he did in the middle of his paranoid craze.

"How?" Tim immediately calls his bluff, nearly shouting with the force of it. "How can you possibly help by being even more present in my life where, and I cannot stress this enough right now, I don't want you anywhere near me? This isn't something to be talked out, Jon! This is the kind of thing where one party leaves, and neither of us ever speaks to each other again! The toothpaste isn't going back into the tube, the fucking- I don't know what the hell other metaphor would work, here, but the trust is broken. Irreparably. You're not- you aren't even human anymore, not entirely, and you honestly believe that I'll ever- ever- trust that you're not going to use your- your- your fuck-ass, Eye of Sauron interrogation powers on me? You honestly think I'm ever going to trust you again, to the point where I can call you a friend, after all of this?"

Tim laughs, in an angry sort of way, without any actual humor in it. "There is nothing that you can say or do to help me, Jon. Just leave me the hell alone, so that I can occasionally pretend that I've actually managed to leave."

With that, Tim storms inside, not waiting for Jon to say anything in response. Jon doesn't try to stop him; he doesn't even know what he would say if he did.

Tim is right. There's nothing that Jon can do to combat that; there's nothing that Jon can do to make any of what Tim said any less true. Tim is trapped here, against his will, the same as everybody else. Tim is trapped with someone he doesn't trust, and Jon doesn't exactly know how to get that trust back, if it's even possible to do so; in their circumstances, it's more than likely a lost cause, exactly as Tim said.

It's not like Jon is much better, in the whole 'trusting people' department, and in his case, none of the people he's struggling to believe won't go behind his back have ever actually done that. They haven't proven his paranoia right. He doesn't know how to even begin to broach the idea of going back to trusting someone who's hurt him before.

It's not like he can leave Tim alone, though. As much as Tim may want him to- as much as the both of them want him to, in all honesty, because avoiding Tim is easier than trying to navigate the minefield of their conversations nowadays- Jon can also very plainly see that Tim is, as he'd said before, driving himself into the ground. He at least wants to be a decent enough person to try to pull him away from that.

As Jon takes two steps towards the door back inside, he hesitates; he stops walking almost as soon as he starts, as the thought occurs to him that maybe he's not the right person to help. He's not going to pretend that he's not a major part of the problem, here; he's not going to pretend that a lot of this isn't his fault. The question that he's asking himself is, despite being a part of the problem, can he be a part of the solution?

Or. Not solution, really. He doubts that this is a problem that can actually be solved. Alleviated, mostly? Made less intense, somehow. Slowing down Tim's descent into whatever it is he's making himself into.

Melanie, he thinks wryly, would be the perfect person to talk to Tim. They can bond over their mutual hatred of everything they're stuck with, especially me.

He doesn't even think he's wrong in his own assessment. If Tim or Melanie ever talked to each other, Jon thinks they'd get on like a house on fire- the problem with that is, neither of them would ever listen to him, or pull themselves out of their own heads for long enough to make decent conversation with each other. That, and... the feeling of camaraderie in the Archives is, despite how much he misses it sometimes, something that he thinks would feel alien now.

Besides- Jon's not exactly about to shove anybody closer to each other, whether or not he thinks they'd wind up being friends. He's... at this point, he thinks that if he tries to do anything else to make things better, it'll just get worse, and it's to the point that he really doesn't want to know what "worse" would entail.

He checks his pocket, to make sure his carton of cigarettes is actually closed, and heads inside as well, a good distance behind Tim. He glances around outside, one last time, before heading in; he's both mildly surprised and resigned to notice a tape recorder sitting on the ground just by the door.

He doesn't know how long it's been running, and he wouldn't be all that shocked if it had gotten the entire conversation. Still, he clicks the stop button, and brings it inside as he goes.

He doesn't say anything when he gets back down into the Archives; it's not like anybody would listen, anyway. Tim's got his headphones on, and is doing something on his laptop; Melanie's sharpening one of her knives; he doesn't see Martin or Basira, but he doesn't doubt that they're here, somewhere. There's no reason to interrupt anybody at the present moment.

Instead, Jon just goes straight to his office, and puts the tape recorder on his desk. He pops the tape out without bothering to listen, and puts it in his desk drawer where he's started keeping all the tapes that don't have Statement recordings on them.

[diamond-coral]

A Game

Summary: Tony suggests a game that you, the unfortunate intern, get dragged right into the center of: who can make a woman cum the fastest?

Pairings: all dark!: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader, Thor x Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader, Tony x Reader, implied natasha x reader

Warnings: DUB-CON/NON-CON (oral: f-receiving, fingering, tiny smidge of analplay) VOYEURISM/EXHIBITIONISM, BLACKMAILING, OVERSTIMULATION. The characters in this story are NOT good people. After reading the warnings, your media consumption is your own responsibility!

As Stark’s party mellowed down and all the guests left, you, the unfortunate intern, were called over to the small group of five Avengers seated in a section of couches.

“Y/n, come!” Thor’s voice boomed.

“Y/n, come!” Sam mimicked, deepening his voice to make fun of Thor’s.

You approached them as the men snickered at Sam’s joke. 

“What can I do for you?” you ask, a fake smile plastered on your face.

Stark cleared his throat and raised a brow at you; a silent command. 

“What can I do for you, sir?” 

“A round of drinks please, and add this to Sir Barnes, Sir Rogers, and I’s drinks.” Thor handed you the flask of his Asgardian liquor and you accepted it, hiding the slight nervous tremble of your hands.

“Of course, sir.”

“Someone’s been learning their manners,” Steve taunted, and it took all your restraint to not snarl at him.

“Easy there, Rogers,” Stark interjected, noticing how your fingers clenched Thor’s flask tighter. “Pretty sure Barnes fucked the brat outta her couple days ago when he came back from that shitshow of mission in Bosnia. Got a lot of pent up rage there, Buck?”

“Mission just put me in a bad mood,” Bucky shrugged. “Either way, I don’t think I fucked all the brat outta her. Got anything left for me, doll?”

“I have nothing for you, you self-righteous, ignorant prick,” you spat venomously.

“There she is. I always love a challenge.” Bucky smirked at how your knuckles were turning white around the flask. “Now didn’t Thor ask you to go fetch us some drinks?”

You huffed, opting to bite your tongue rather than lashing out, and spun on your heel toward the minibar.

Three-months ago, you would never have imagined your internship interview at S.H.I.E.L.D to bring you here. Your interview had been conducted by Captain America himself, and just as things began to look promising, it was interrupted by a sharp knock from Tony Stark. Tony had brought Steve into the hall, leaving the door to the conference room open, and you could only sneak glances through the window of the room, hearing Steve whisper about how it was “a question of morality” while they both kept looking back at you.

You got the position, and the next day, Tony sat you down and gave you an offer.

The Avengers needed to be ‘taken care of’, as he put it, and you being a ‘stress-reliever’ would boost morale around the team. Most of the them never had time for the outside world (apparently saving the world was a big commitment?) and were rarely ever able to make lasting relationships. You could accept the position, be compensated monthy, and get to live in the compound, or you could decline, and walk away with your mouth sealed by the confidentiality contract you signed before the interview.  Something about S.H.I.E.L.D. work being linked to a lot of top secret information, meaning you weren’t allowed to speak any details of the job to outside parties unless you wanted to get sued for every penny you were worth.

You had been on the cusp of taking the second option before Tony mentioned your sister’s job as S.H.I.E.L.D. as an agent. She was half the reason you’d interviewed for an internship. A couple words from Tony about her possibly falling into a fatal accident on a mission, and you took the position offer in a heartbeat.

You almost overfilled the glass while getting lost in your train of thought. Setting down the bottle of expensive whiskey, you placed the last glass next to the others on the silver tray, and picked it up, gracefully yet begrudgingly making your way back to the small gathering.

“Y/n, finally. We were just talking about who here can make a woman cum the fastest.”

The complete utter bluntness of Tony’s words caught you entirely off guard, and you tripped over your own feet, stumbling in your high heels to keep the tray of drinks from falling before Sam reached an arm out to catch the tray and another arm to hold your hip and steady you.

You ripped yourself from Sam’s touch without acknowledging or thanking him, to disturbed by Tony’s previous words to do so. You began passing out the glasses of dark liquid. “And you’re telling me this why?” Your voice was flat in hopes of showing Tony you were completely disinterested in any plans he might have.

“Why, we need your aid, Lady Y/n,” Thor answered a little too cheerfully for your taste.

“I won’t be partaking in your little immature competition of toxic masculinity.” You crossed your arms and continued. “It makes it seem that women are nothing but prizes. Games to be played by boys as they fight over the highscore. Toys.”

“Aren’t they?” Steve cocked his head, eyes glimmering with amusement while a smirk painted his face. The rest of the men chuckled at his reply.

“I think HR would be shocked to hear that Captain America is being a sexist dick to a woman in the workplace,” you bit back, but your threat was weak and they all knew it.

“I think HR would be to busy writing a condolence letter to your sisters family if, let’s say, on her mission with Sam tomorrow in Russia, a stray bullet hit her,” Steve replied. A quick reminder at the stakes. 

Sam clicked his tongue and shook his head in mock sympathy. “Those darn Russians and their careless aim.”  

He abruptly pushed himself off the couch and clapped his hands together. “I wanna go first,” he declared.

“Just remember, you can’t use your dick,” Tony added. “Some of us don’t have super soldier serum enhanced fuckwands.”

“Please never, ever say fuckwand again,” Bucky said, scrunching up his nose. “Besides, the hydra serum didn’t do anything down there.” He waggled his eyebrows while elbowing his enhanced counterpart. “Don’t think I could say the same for this punk here though.”

Steve muttered a ‘shut up’ while the group snickered.

All while they compared sizes like a bunch of teenagers, Sam manhandled you onto the coffee table in the center of the couches. You let out a grunt as you were shoved onto your front, stomach pressed into the tabletop while your pelvis was slammed into the edge.

Sam kneeled behind you and brought up two fingers to your mouth.

“Get ‘em nice and wet for me, baby.”

The men around you went quiet, entranced as you reluctantly took Sam’s fingers into your mouth, sucking on them and swirling your tongue around them.

When Sam finally pulled them out, he looked back at Tony.

“You ready?” Sam asked.

Sam hiked the flowy skirt of your dress up your legs causing you to squirm and pathetically thrash; a desperate attempt at putting an abrupt stop to this stupid game.

“You’re on the clock.”

At Tony’s words, Sam immediately stopped your desperate attempt at worming away from him by catching you by the back of your neck and slamming you back down hard on the coffee table. Much to your disdain, the rough treatment made you wet, and that was the last thing you wanted them to see.

But when Sam pulled your lacy panties down, you could tell it was the first thing he noticed.

“Fuck babygirl, I didn’t need you lubing up my fingers, you’re already drenched,” he noted.

You let out a soft moan as Sam worked two calloused fingers into your pussy. Although they’re thick and long, they were nowhere near the size of his dick and you silently thanked whatever was out there that he wasn’t splitting you in half with it at the moment. Sam released the grip on your neck, moving to settle the hand on your ass before giving it a light squeeze and a slap that elicited another moan from you. While Sam slowly began moving his fingers- twisting, curling, and pumping them- he leaned over you, caging your body under his broad chest, to speak dirty words into your ear.

“Baby, you’re so wet right now, I think you like having them watch you.” Your cheeks burned in shame while he picked up the pace. “You want them to see how well-behaved you are for me? Want them to see how you come on my hand like a good little slut?” he cooed.

Slow pumps now turned to quick thrusts from his skilled fingers and Sam groaned as you fluttered around him.

“That’s it. You’re taking me perfectly.”

Twisting his wrist so his thumb could also strum your clit, Sam was moving so fast you’d easily mistake him for a superhuman.

“Yes, Sam, please,” you cried out, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Uh-uh, babygirl. Wrong word,” he scolded, although his pace never slowed as his fingers brutally fucked into you.

“Daddy!” you screamed. “I’m cumming!”

You chanted those words, cunt clamping down on his merciless fingers. He gave you no reprieve, mercilessly thrusting into you, until you squirted, your release coating his hand and dripping down his forearm. Only when you were almost crying, did he finally remove his hand from your abused cunt.

“Now that-,” Sam stated, grinning while he stood. “-is how you make a girl come.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever Birdbrain.” You don’t have any strength to look at Tony as he speaks. “Give her a couple minutes before whoever’s next.”

Whatever the conversation was between them (you couldn’t hear it over the buzzing in your brain), it was much too short to your liking. The few minutes Tony gave you only felt like a few seconds before Bucky was getting up.

“Guess I’ll take a crack at it,” he announced, rolling his head from side to side.

“No one says “take a crack at it” anymore, old man.”

“Keep talking when your in last place, Sam,” Bucky quipped, however, his tone was still light.

You felt a metal hand on your hip before you were rolled over onto your back, now facing Bucky while your eyes pleaded with him.

“Please dont,” you croaked.

Bucky just scoffed, kneeling down between your legs and wrapping both arms around your thighs as he pulled you closer.

“Tony?” His hot breath fanned your pussy as he spoke and you inhaled sharply at the feeling.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Stark said.

Bucky wasted no time the moment the words left Tony’s mouth. He started by licking up from your hole to clit over and over, the lazy stripes already driving you wild. Letting go of one of your thighs to bring his flesh hand to your pussy, he pulled the hood of your clit back, pausing his licking to blow on your engorged bud.

“Such a pretty pussy, doll,” he murmured before turning his head around and speaking louder. “You guys seeing this?” 

He moved his head out of the way to showcase your glistening folds. A couple groans from the men on the couches had you trying to close your legs, but Bucky’s grip was like steel (especially considering his hand was metal).

“Wasting time Buck,” Steve commented and Bucky just rolled his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure I can still beat Sam and have time left over,” he scoffed.

Bucky directed his attention back to your folds, this time, diving in right away. He still had the hood of your clit pulled back as he encased the bud with his lips causing you to writhe at the intense sensation. And yet, you were held down with practically no effort as he methodically played with you. Each time he groaned against you, you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, and by the time he started sucking on your clit, you were wrecked. Your hand found home in his brown locks of hair while he quickly moved his tongue back and forward on your sensitive nub that was trapped in the vacuum of his mouth. The coil inside you wound tighter and tighter, and suddenly, while Bucky began shaking his head from side to side, it snapped. Your clit pulsed rapidly while encased in his hot mouth, and you screamed, legs locking around his head while your hand held his head in place. He worked you while you rode out your orgasm on his face until you could barely move.

Bucky got up from his knees, grinning down at you, so weak, you couldn’t muster it in you to glare back.

“Now I think I really fucked the brat out of you,” he said. “What was that?” He cupped his ear. “Did I hear a thank you sir?”

“Thank you, sir,” you whimpered weakly.

You were so fucked out, all the next events were but a blur.

Thor had feasted between your thighs the same as Bucky but was more sloppy, although, your body seemed to love ‘sloppy’. His tongue was constantly lashing and worming around your clit, the wet muscle accompanied by lewd slurping sounds, and in record time, Thor’s suckling and licking had you tensing and building up so much that your orgasm felt like a waterfall crashing over your body.

Steve was just as methodical and precise as Bucky, also pumping his fingers slowly in and out of your pussy. He was sweetly slow, dragging out your pleasure to the point where you were begging him to come. His warm tongue dragged across your sensitive cunt, while another hand reached up to grab a breast and pinch a nipple. You felt like your body was on fire. It wasn’t until Steve had inserted a thumb into your ass that he finally allowed your body sweet sweet release.

Your head span as finally collapsing on Tony’s floor, listening to the muffled voices above you.

You didn’t even register Stark’s words as he announced Thor had won and Steve had come in last. You barely even heard Steve’s defense that he was just enjoying himself too much in the moment.

Although ten-minutes later you had a somewhat sense of clarity, after hearing their conversation, you wished you were just unconscious. Even better, dead.

“I’m tellin’ you man, I made her squirt. She definitely came the hardest with me.” Sam’s voice rang.

“Dude- she was literally grinding against my face and holding me in a headlock with her legs,” Bucky argued.

“I literally made the brat beg to cum,” Steve inserted.

“I’d say that by bringing her to release the fastest, it was most intense with me,” Thor declared, victoriously.

You were on the brink of tears as they talked about you. Until another voice cut into the room. A female voice.

“What do you boys think you’re doing?”

It was Natasha. Your head jolted up as you felt a glimmer of hope surge through you.

That glimmer of hope was quickly extinguished at her next words.

“Not inviting me to the boy’s party?” she scolded. “You think a girl might beat you by a landslide?”

Nat squatted down next to you, running a soft hand on your cheek.

“Well you’re right. I’ll beat Thor’s record and cut it in half.”

She began unbuttoning her pants.

“And I’ll do it while riding her face.”