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captain-mj · 11 months

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Vampire AU Pt 2

Answered some questions I got but no SoapGhost biting just yet

Interviewer: Why do you not like when Gaz feeds on Soap?

Ghost: It makes him smell… bland. It’s also rude. No one in the house feeds off Soap. Only I can but even there, I don’t.

The Interviewer checked this information and it turns out to strangely enough be true. No one had ever itten Soap.

Interviewer: So how do you feel about Soap?

Ghost: He’s my familiar.

Interviewer: And what does that mean to you?

Ghost: He does all of the chores around the house that I don’t want to do and gets me food.

Interviewer pauses, clearly thinking he’ll continue. He doesn’t.

Interviewer: Do you like him?

Ghost: Like him? No. Absolutely not. He’s just a human. I don’t like… stay awake thinking about him.

Ghost was once again staying awake thinking about Soap. He stared at the top of his coffin and just… thought of him.

Soap smelled good. Most of the time. He was only human and he did deal with dead bodies occasionally, so Ghost gave him grace about that. But most of the time, he smelled… delicious. Ghost had a feeling if he tasted him, he’d be savory. Not sweet, Ghost didn’t really like the sweeter bloods like Alejandro did. He’d probably taste buttery too. Warm and so human under his hands. His heartbeat was so loud at times. Always even, never afraid of Ghost even when he should be. Sometimes Ghost would pick him up to get him out of the way of things and Soap would just smile. Ghost occasionally picked him up just so he could hear his heartbeat. It was a melody that he wanted to get lost in.

This morning, it was clear he wouldn’t be sleeping, so he listened to everyone moving below. Gaz went upstairs to the attic where his bedroom was.

Soap moved down below a little longer, most likely cleaning. He liked to get it all done before heading to bed so when Ghost woke up, he didn’t have to deal with it.

The house started quieting down and he slowly stepped out of his coffin. Luckily his curtains had been pulled tight so it was safe for him to escape. He stretched and peaked out of his door.

Soap had blew out all of the candles and pulled all the curtains so Ghost walked around in the darkness. He crept downstairs to Soap’s room. It was the smallest room in the house, but it was still pretty nice. Soap had bought his own bed and had decorated it himself. Ghost saw books littering the desk and looked at them for a moment. Soap usually put them away, but he must’ve been tired. Price had bene asking him for things all night so it probably wore him out. He’d tell Price to leave him alone a bit more. While Soap acted as the house familiar, he was really Ghost’s familiar and Ghost didn’t want him to be worn out or neglect himself.

Maybe he also selfishly wanted more of Soap’s attention on him. He wasn’t used to sharing him and watching him pay more attention to the others…

Something feral and angry pressed against his fangs and Soap would be defenseless right now. He looked gorgeous, strewn among the pillows and blankets on his bed. Ghost didn’t feel bad staring since Soap had a shirt and boxers on. The house had started to get cold but in the summer, Soap sometimes didn’t wear anything. Ghost had learned quickly to knock in the summer if Soap had accidentally slept in.

But right now, he looked peaceful and luckily modest.

Soap turned over and Ghost silently stepped back, watching him stretch and get comfier. If he bit him, how would he do it? Would he sink his teeth in and rip a piece out of him? Or would he be gentle?

Would Soap let him? Not to turn him. A selfish part never, ever wanted to turn him. But if it was just to taste him, would Soap let him? The idea of the two of them tangled together as he took from him. Ghost’s fangs hurt. They ached so bad.

“So do you do this often?” Price spoke very softly and Ghost almost jumped out of his skin.

“You were always the only one that could sneak up on me.” Ghost sighed. “Just when I can’t sleep.”

Price nodded and stood next to him. It made Ghost feel weird. It was one thing for Ghost to watch his familiar, but as much as Price was his sire, he didn’t want to let him watch Soap as well. “Let’s get out of here, John.”

“I think he left someone in the basement if you’re hungry.” Price smiled at him. He looked alive in a way Ghost refused to believe he possibly could. Even back then, Price must’ve been at least 200 years old when they met. Simon had been dazzled by him. A healthy amount of respect, appreciation and probably attraction meant he didn’t notice what everyone else did.

The night he laid on that battlefield, body broken far beyond repair and ready to accept death, Price had told him he couldn’t let him die yet. It was a horrible transformation made much worse by the existing injuries. He had felt so pathetic, having Price care for him for so long. The memories were still quite a sore spot for him.

Ghost nodded and followed him to the basement. There was in fact a person down there that was only half drained. Price didn’t eat very much as he mostly just caught glances at Ghost.

“Why do you wear the mask?”

Ghost groaned immediately and sank down to the floor. “Because I want to.”

“You’re such a handsome man though! You don’t need to cover up!”

“It’s not about that though.” Ghost sighed.

“What is it about then? Those days are so long behind us. No need to hide your identity. You could be anyone now!” Price grinned. “You could just be Si-”

Ghost got up and walked away from him, shoulders tensing. He walked straight up the stairs and through the living room and he could hear Price’s anxiety like it was a force.

“Simon! It’s still fucking daylight!” Price snapped so loud it vibrated the walls.

Soap was up in moments and rushing over, clearly still sleep deprived, but more worried about Ghost than getting to sleep. “Sir, are you okay? Did something happen? Did I miss a curtain?” He looked up at Ghost who paused.

Fuck.

Ghost stared at him for a moment and watched as Soap’s eyes went down to his mouth and he became painfully aware of the fact that his mouth was uncovered. Soap’s eyes widened and his heartbeat sped up.

Ghost wanted to look in a mirror to know what he looked like, but there was never a reflection. He imagined the scars. Deep lines across his mouth in a harsh mock smile. Big fangs. One of his previous lovers had described him once. They said his lips always looked bloodstained, even if they didn’t have blood on them.

Did he still have blood on his face now? He hadn’t exactly cleaned his face off. Soap was scared. Surely he knew Ghost would never hurt him.

Interviewer: Man, he looked pretty scary with the blood. He also is the first one I’ve seen that’s actually that pale.

Soap: He’s so hot. I was so nervous he’d read my mind

Interviewer: Can they do that?

Soap: No, but like… you never know

Interviewer: What were you thinking?

Soap blushed: Very uncatholic thoughts thats for sure.

Ghost schooled his expression and reached up, pulling down his mask. “No. You did a fine job, Johnny. Are you okay? We didn’t mean to wake you.”

Soap’s heart sped up instead of slowing down like Ghost wanted. He also flushed a little. “Thank you, sir. I’m fine. Was worried I’d come up and you’d be… anyway. Do you want me to help you back in your coffin?”

Ghost looked behind him and Price was gone. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Soap walked with him, the two falling into the same pattern they always did. When they first met, Ghost had walked faster and Soap had always jogged to keep up with him. Although it was funny, Ghost had slowed down. Rodolfo had noticed and teased him about it. Just a little.

Ghost would never ever tell Soap. Ever. But he wasn’t in the best of places when he came along. Alejandro had pointed out when he stopped sleeping for nights on end. Ghost liked to believe it was just having to make sure they didn’t eat Soap, but he knew that wasn’t really true. He just liked… hanging out with the human.

Soap offered his hand and Ghost used it to get back in his coffin.

“If you wake up again, just get my attention okay?”

“I don’t need your permission.” Ghost grumbled.

Soap only smiled. “Course not. But I get nervous. I make one mistake and… I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you on my watch, sir.”

Ghost stared up at him. He saw a glimpse of blond hair and green eyes that did not match Soap’s brown and blue.

“Alright, Johnny.” Ghost reached up and Soap paused, watching him. He gently traced the scar over Soap’s eye, gloved fingers just barely, barely brushing it. “Have I ever asked where that came from?”

“No, sir.”

“Tell me when I wake up?”

“Of course, Ghost.” Soap smiled at him and Ghost must’ve been much more tired than he thought, because he thought of what his lips would feel like against his.

Would his fangs cut him?

Soap watched Ghost’s eyes close and how he stopped breathing. It was something that had freaked him out at first. When they slept, whatever made them breathe just stopped. They were also effectively dead to the world, almost nothing woke them up.

Soap closed the coffin and went back to his room. He put all of the books on his desk away and then went back to bed.

Soap woke up the next day and saw a giant dog in the living room. He stared at him for a few minutes before deciding that was fine and also not his business. The wolf looked at him for a few minutes before putting his head back on his paws.

Soap thought he looked kinda weird too, but again, not his business. He walked right past it and went to Ghost, fully intending to tell him about his scar and ask him what he wanted to do today. But as soon as Ghost’s eyes open, he looked angry.

Alejandro started yelling before he got a chance to really ask him about it. “SOAP WHY IS THERE A MUTT IN MY HOUSE???”

Soap swung around and frowned. “What?”

Ghost was up and at ‘em immediately. “Ale, calm down. We’ll just kick him out.”

“THERE’S A FUCKING WEREWOLF AND YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN!”

Soap winced. “Werewolf?”

Ghost rolled his eyes and went downstairs to see Gaz between Alejandro and the wolf. “Kyle, get your pet out of here.”

Soap frowned. “He is still a person?? No need to be so mean?”

“I don’t care! I hope it hurts his feelings!” Ghost scoffed and crossed his arms.

Rodolfo sighed. “Can you make him take a bath at least? He reeks.”

Soap sniffed the air, only catching the faintest scent of cologne.

Gaz hummed. “I like the smell.”

“You’re disgusting.” Rodolfo wrinkled his nose. “It smells like dog!”

Soap looked at the… werewolf. It was weird. He stared at him for a second before seeing it… change.

Soap pulled away to throw up as its body bent and twisted. That was the most disgusting thing he had ever seen.

“Sorry about that. I know its kinda gross the first time ya see it.”

“HE’S AMERICAN??” Price sounded scandalized.

“My name is Alex.” Alex was naked. Completely. Not a hint of shame about this either. Soap averted his eyes but noticed that Rodolfo and Ghost both looked him over. Alejandro waited until Alex glanced at Gaz to look him up and down, but he certainly did.

“Get him out.”

Gaz shook his head. “If you guys can be super gross with each other, I can have my werewolf boyfriend.”

Alejandro gasped. “Our love is not comparable to you coupling with that… that…”

Alex growled. “Don’t say it.”

“That dog!”

“That is so bigoted! I don’t call you guys bats.”

Alejandro growled and they started snapping at each other.

Price frowned at Gaz. “Why don’t you settle down with a nice older vampire? You can pick a rich one.”

Soap gasped and looked at Ghost who sighed. “He’s not… He’s not flirting.”

Gaz grimaced. “Price…”

Price smiled at him. “Don’t you think you need someone who understand you? He’s a werewolf. Also he’ll die in 80 years.”

Gaz nodded. “It’ll be a glorious 80 years and then I’ll find him again when he reincarnates.”

Price frowned. “But he’ll be a baby!”

“I’ll obviously wait until he’s in his 20s!”

Soap hummed. “Oh, grooming.”

Gaz gasped. “No! Not grooming! Because I won’t be talking to him!”

“You’re still going to wait until he’s legal. Groomer behavior.”

“You say as if there’s not over 700 years between you and Ghost.”

Ghost tilted his head. “What? We’re not dating.”

Gaz: They act like that and they’re not even fucking.

Interviewer: I’m so glad someone else sees it

Gaz: That’s a little pathetic honestly. Like… seriously? They even smooch?

Interviewer: Not that I’m aware of

Gaz: Wow. Wow. No wonder Ghost is always so unhappy. He hasn’t gotten laid since….

Interviewer: Since?

Gaz glances around: Too many ears. Can’t say. But yeah, I don’t think he’s done anything since then.

Interviewer: And how long was that?

Gaz: 40 years ago? I mean. Unless he’s slept with Alejandro or Rodolfo and I just didn’t know

Interviewer: Why wouldn’t they tell you?

Gaz: Because I’d want to join. Obviously.

Gaz smiled at Price. “Look, he treats me well, okay? I like him.” He looks at Alex who was now growling at Alejandro who was aggressively hissing back. “He’s so dreamy.”

Interviewer: What the fuck.

Alex huffed but decided to leave. Apparently it was a pack meeting or something. He kissed Gaz goodbye and he left.

Soap was relieved, just so his vampires would stop freaking out.

Price was sitting at the back porch, which was a bit odd, but Soap decided it wasn’t his business.

Ghost however went to check on him. He thought he had freaked him out earlier. Yeah, walking around during the daylight wasn’t his smartest move thinking back on it.

But Price didn’t look upset. He looked… enthralled.

Ghost frowned and followed his gaze to where their next door neighbor was. Their neighbor was… a person. Ghost hadn’t really talked to him. According to Soap, he was pretty nice. He happened to have a nocturnal schedule as well.

“You good?”

“He’s gorgeous.”

“We don’t eat the neighbors. Brings too much suspicion.” The neighbor was human and Price usually wanted to eat those. As did all of them really. Earlier hadn’t Ghost thought of devouring Soap?

“He reminds me of my third wife.”

Ghost blinked slowly and tried to shuffle through Price’s wives. Not all of them were women. Some were male wives and some were female wives. The third one…

“Oh my god. He does look like your wife.”

Taglist anyone?

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fettuccinealfred0 · 2 months

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Here's a little sneak peak of the upcoming chapter of Til Death Do Us Part!

I really went back and forth this week on which excerpt I wanted to pick as the teaser. There's a... pretty big spoiler in one of the lines here but whatever, I just loved this moment too much!

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Your fingertips ghost along Astarion’s arms, tracing lines over the muscles and inching their way upward until Astarion feels them slip over his shoulders, moving gently along the raised skin of the scar on his back.

“Is that okay?” you murmur, pulling away from the kiss.

“Yes,” he answers, “but I don’t know why you’d ever want to touch it. That thing is hideous.”

Astarion would let you touch him anywhere, would let your soft fingertips glide and press upon any part of him that you wished. But why did you always insist upon finding all the ugly, hidden parts of him and holding them up to the light? Why did you always insist on loving the pieces that Astarion himself hated?

“No, not hideous. It’s a part of you and nothing about you could ever be described as hideous.” Your fingertips continue stroking and soothing along the circular pattern. “And you deserve to have some new memories associated with your scar. So now, when you feel its weight upon your back, you will not think of the night you received it. You will think instead of the day that the woman you love gave you the sun.”

“You gave me the sun long ago,” Astarion confesses, the pad of his own thumb moving to touch your soft lips. “When you smile… It feels like sunshine against my skin.”

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #sneak peak

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lokis-army-77 · 2 years

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Surprise for You

Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 2604

The Reader has gotten her nipples pierced and comes to surprise Eddie. He is impatient and wants to touch them but he can't. So one thing leads to another and he ends up eating her out.

Warning: 18+ Nipple piercings, oral (f receiving), dom!eddie, vaginal fingering, squirting. use of princess, sweetheart, and one sweetness. The tiniest bit of mechanic!eddie

A/N: Inspired by this post by @love-toxin because I think it's hot and I also have mine done so..

Part 2 Masterlist (Taglist linked here)

It was on a whim that I had done it. One afternoon, without telling anyone, I drove myself over to the tattoo parlor and got my nipples pierced. Although it was more for myself than anyone else, I knew that Eddie, my boyfriend, would go absolutely wild for them.

Even though I knew he would be crazy about the piercings, I couldn’t help but wring the bottom of my shirt in nervousness when walking through his trailer to surprise him. I had just waltzed in, having a key of my own and knowing he was most likely jamming out on his guitar in his room and wouldn’t be able to hear me if I knocked.

When I walked through to his bedroom, I realized I was right as the sound of him practicing the guitar solo from the song Lifeforce on the recently released Vinnie Moore ‘Mind’s Eye’ album. He was really getting into the feel of the music, so much so that he hadn’t realized I had walked in and was now sitting behind him on his bed.

When he was finally finished playing through the parts of the song he knew he turned around, almost flinging himself out of his seat in surprise at my being there.

“Shit, Princess, don’t sneak up on me like that. ‘Bout made me have a heart attack.” He scolded, although smiling, as he stood up and gave me a short peck on the lips before going to hang his B. C. Rich up above his dresser. “How was your day?” He asks, coming to plop down next to me, pulling me into him as he laid down.

I winced a tiny bit, expecting his hands to hit the brand new piercings, but they didn’t. I snuggled in closer to him, placing my hands atop his on my stomach.

“My day was good. I actually got something today that I’ve been wanting and it also doubles as a surprise for you.” I smiled.

He leaned up on his elbow to look over my body at my face. I giggled as his hair fell down and tickled my nose and cheek. “A surprise?” His eyebrows rose with his question.

“Yeah, do you wanna see?” I turned slightly so I could see him easier.

“Do I ever.” He was giddy as he sat up, waiting on me to show him his surprise.

I laughed at his excitement. “Okay, but you have to close your eyes until I tell you, okay Eds?”

Quickly he closed his eyes, squeezing them tight. I shook my head at him with a smirk ghosting my lips. Standing to my feet, I planted myself directly in front of him, almost between his spread legs at the edge of the bed. Gently I took off my t-shirt and bra, shivering as the cooler air met the skin of my very sensitive nipples causing them to harden into stiff peaks. The two little barbels glinted in the yellow lighting of the room, making me smile, still not able to believe I had actually gone and gotten this done.

“You ready?” I questioned, still a little nervous about what he would think.

“I’m so ready.” He was practically vibrating in his seat.

“Okay then, open up.” I stood there, bare prested in the middle of his room, arms held behind my back so my chest would stick out a bit more as I presented him with the two new piercings.

Eddie snapped his eyes open immediately. “Shit,” he breathed, eyes widening as the saw the tiny metal balls hugging against my nipples. “Fuck, princess, you got your nipples pierced?” He began to reach his hand out to touch one of them but I quickly slapped his hand away.

“No touching for a while. Got to let them heal.” I tutted.

“Damn,” He let out a long huff. “How long?”

“At least six months. Could be more, could be less. It all depends on how my body heals.”

“Fuck baby, six months? I can’t wait that long.” Eddie grabbed at my hips, bringing me closer to him, slotting me between his legs.

“I know, you are such an impatient person Eddie Munson.” I kissed his lips softly.

When I pulled back his eyes went immediately to my breasts, inspecting them more closely. I watched him intently, as he swallowed thickly and licked his lips. “I just wanna touch them so bad.”

“I know.” I played with the hair falling over his shoulders. “Maybe I’ll let you help clean them, but you’ll have to wash those grimy mechanic hands of yours.”

“Hey, my hands aren’t grimy.” He scoffed looking up at me.

“Really, Eds?” I just laughed.

“Really, but I guess I can scrub them down for you.” He smirked.

“Ever the gentleman aren’t you?”

“I try.” He shrugged his shoulders going back to admiring the piercings. “God, that's so fucking hot.”

His hands were rough on my hips as he pulled me into his lap, placing them around to hold onto my back, keeping me steady on him. I shivered at the feeling of his cold rings on my skin. Slowly as to not disturb the sensitive flesh, he began to place soft kisses along the skin of my breasts, mindful to keep away from the piercings.

“I’ll just have to settle for this then.” He murmured against my skin.

My fingers slipped into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling slightly. “Careful Eddie,” A short breathless moan left my mouth. I couldn’t help it as my hips began to buck against his lap, searching for anything to help relieve the pressure building in my stomach.

As I ground down on him, I gasped at the feeling of his hard cock, the head just barely grazing my clothed clit. Eddie moaned, pushing my hips with his hands, aiding in my movements.

“Fuck, princess.” He began to kiss up my sternum straight to my neck.

“Need to feel you,” I whimpered as my nipples barely brushed against his Metallica shirt. The constant dull throbbing around the piercings sent a pained shock to my stomach as I pulled away from him letting out a cry in shock.

Eddie stopped his movements immediately, pulling back further and reaching for my face with one of his hands. “You okay, Sweetheart?”

I nodded, eyes watering. “Yeah, I’m okay, just accidentally pressed them up against you.” I leaned down to meet his lips, giving him a sweet kiss, so grateful for his caring nature. “Think I need to put my bra back on, the pressure helps with the ache.

“Whatever you want, Sweetness, although I’ll be sad to see the girls go.” He chuckled, leaning back on the bed to grab at my bra which I had thrown up there earlier.

I carefully pulled the bra on, sighing at the tiny bit of relief it brought. Eddie’s hands rubbed soothing circles on my back as he watched me, waiting patiently.

“Do you still want to?” he asked, the question fading off before he finished.

“Yeah, just go slow. I don’t think my boobs need to be jostled around too much.” I gave him confirmation as if my hips beginning to grind down on him again wasn’t clue enough.

“I can do that.”

Eddie slowly laid back on the bed, bringing me with him, then carefully moved to where I was laying under him. He slotted his hand behind my neck, pulling me up to kiss my lips deeply before crawling down my body and unbuttoning the top of my skinny jeans.

Goosebumps appeared on my skin as he slowly slid the fabric down my legs. “Eddie,” I breathed, reaching out for him. “Need to feel you.”

“Don’t worry, Princess, you will here in a second.” He had thrown my jeans somewhere in the room and was now looping his fingers through the elastic of my panties and pulling them down and off as well.

I moved uncomfortably as the air hit my hot cunt, a shiver ran up my spine. Eddie, taking his time, traced his fingers up and down my legs, spreading them inch by inch until he was able to position himself between them fully.

His lips joined his fingers, trailing open mouth kissed along my inner thighs all the way up to there the apex, yet he did not place a kiss on where I needed him most. My hips moved on their own as he placed another kiss so close to my cunt yet not close at all. His hands wrapped around my legs and held me in place.

“Quit moving or I won't give you what you want.” His voice was rough but not as domineering as it usually was when we had sex.

“No, no, please. I won’t move, just please touch me.” It was so easy for me to beg under him, pleading with him to destroy me.

“Will you? Will you be a good girl for me?” He questioned, eyebrows raised.

“Yes,” I whimpered, “Always you’re a good girl.”

At that, I placed one last kiss on my thigh before unhooking his right hand from around my leg and bringing his fingers up to proud at my weeping slit. Eddie had barely touched me and I was as wet as I had ever been. I let out a long satisfied moan when his middle finger finally slipped into the heat of my cunt.

“So fucking needy aren’t you? You so wet, did showing me your new piercings make you all horny, Princess?” Eddie teased as he took his finger out of my entrance and swirled it up and around my throbbing clit.

“Mmhm.” I nodded as he continued to circle my clit torturously slowly.

As I relaxed into his touch, he brought his head closer, his hair tickling my thighs. “I can’t wait to have you under me, writhing as I play with those pretty little nipples. Bet they’ll be even more sensitive than they used to be. Fuck.” Eddie groaned into my skin before licking a long hot stripe up my cunt.

“Ah! Eddie.” His name came out like a cry from my lungs. One of my hands flung down to capture his hair, pushing him further into my pussy.

The hand that had been rubbing my cunt snapped up, gripping my wrist, pulling my hand away from him. He pulled away, and I whined at the loss of his tongue lapping at my juices.

“That wasn’t very nice of you, Sweetheart.” He tsks. “I’m going easy on you because you’re healing, so don’t push your luck. Of do you want me to cuff you to the bed? Hum?”

“M’sorry Eddie.” I moved my hands up over my head, looking at him through heavy eyes.

“Don’t do it again,” he chided then dove right back into my cunt.

I held the pillow at my head like a vice, knowing that the extraordinary pleasure Eddie was bringing me would cause me to try and push him further into me again.

The feel of his tongue flat on my clit had me arching my back and whimpering at the sudden throbbing of my nipples. The near-constant soreness and discomfort aided in my arousal. I could feel my excitement gushing out and so could Eddie as he moaned into me. He had traveled down further, delving his tongue into my hole, drinking me up.

Every little moan and hum he made against my skin sent a vibration through my cunt deep within my core, pushing my elevatable orgasm closer.

“Fuck,” I mewled as he moved back up to continuously cuck and nip at my clit while he inserted both his middle and ring fingers into me, working me up.

I couldn’t help but almost scream when Eddie curled those two fingers up into the spongy walls of my cunt, massaging them the way he know would have me cumming within seconds. My hands gripped the pillow harder and I tried to keep from thrashing about.

“Please, so close.” The words came out in a moan deep from my gut as I felt my cunt contracting around his deft fingers.

He added his index finger next, fucking them faster up into me. My legs shook, clamping around his head as the sensations were starting to become too much. The knot in my stomach was slowly snapping and soon it would break.

“Eddie! Fuck! Shit, shit, shit, shit. I’m cumming.” I wailed, tears prickling in my eyes as I tried to hold my pleasure back.

Eddie pushed my right leg off his head so he could pull away from my clit with a sloppy pop sound. “Hold it for just a second, Princess. Hold it for me.”

“Can’t, s’too much.” My words were sharp as he continued to drive his fingers in at a great speed.

“Yes, you can.” He said as he placed his other hand on my clit and started to rub it almost lightning fast.

I was screaming now, tears overflowing from my tightly shut eyes. I couldn’t hold on any longer. “Please. Eddie, please I-I need to cu-um now.” I was almost choking on my moans and it was near impossible to get those words out.

“Okay. You can let go now.” He gave his permission, still focused on stimulating my cunt.

My body went taut, back arching in an almost exorcist-like way. Every muscle in me was unyielding, keeping me locked up as I came, a surge of my juices spraying out over Eddie and his bed.

The wet, sloshing sound of Eddie’s fingers still pounding into me pervaded the air as I continued to squirt. Guttural screams left my body as the pleasure became absolutely too much. My hands shot down to his, pushing him away from my sensitive cunt.

Breathing was hard as I came down to earth again from being so high in the clouds. They were jagged and sharp like I had just finished running a marathon. My limbs felt like jelly, limply falling to the bed with no more strength to hold them up.

Eddie ran his calloused hands along my skin, calming my body and its random after-sex spasms. He eventually crawled up the bed to look at my face, smiling down at me he gave me a tender kiss.

“You did amazing, Sweetheart. Did so good for me.” Another kiss, his hands tangled in my hair.

I was tired now, completely fucked out and exhausted. I tried to snuggle up to him as he continued to pepper my face with small kisses.

“Let's get you cleaned up, okay?”

“Okay.” I smiled.

“And while we’re at it I can clean these too.” He smirked, placing a kiss on the top of each breast.”

I groaned. “I mean it, Eddie, you have to wash your hands really really good. I don’t want you giving me an infection.”

He lifted his hands defensively. “I won't. I promise to wash them extra good.”

“Fine.”

Eddie stood from the bed and went bounding out of the room.

“Wait, Eddie come back,” I called out, listening for his footsteps. His head popped around the doorframe almost instantly.

“Yeah?”

“I bought some saline solution to clean them with, it’s on the couch in the grocery bag. Get it and some q-tips too.”

“Alrighty, I’ll be right back.”

Laying back in Eddie’s bed I couldn’t help but think what the next six months would bring, what would happen once the piercings could be played with. I shook my head, toes curling at the mental image.

I guess we will just have to wait and see.

Eddie Taglist: @loveofmylife12@ellabellabus07@wickedwitchofwest@siriusstwelveyears@ameliakf13 @milly-louise @darkscrossfire @harrypotter-posts @dedeinspire @ccosmic-illusion @eddiesbirdie @castiels-gracex @luvwanda @whimsywisher @wool-hat7 @callsignthunder

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic

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damiawnos · 2 years

Text

today casey was at flipop, a book event in brazil and they gave us 3 spoilers that "i may or may not be sure that are in the film, because i read the script. i didn't write it. but i read it" (their words) with an intonation that now WE KNOW will be (or at least was recorded):

obviously, the first kiss under the tree in the white house garden.

the karaoke bar. guys. guys. i'm not doing well. i swear on my life i will die.

the scene on the victorian and albert museum. !!!!!!! WE'LL HAVE FIRSTPRINCE DANCING TO YOUR SONG !!!!!!!!!

(bonus) and scenes on texas. yes. there was scenes, plural, recorded on texas. and here were we thinking they didn't leave england.

they also said that taylor was busy filming the whole time they were in london on their vacation, but that them and nicholas went out for coffee on his day off! and they (casey & nick) spent more time together in general. said they met the whole crew and that they thinks we're going to love what's being created.

they also ate pizza with uma thurman and became a real fangirl for a second saying this hahahaha.

THEY ARE GETTING MARRIED NEXT YEAR!!!!!!! IM SO HAPPY FOR THEM!!!! CONGRATS CASEY!!!!!!!!!!!

while getting the autographs after, i asked if they could give us a tiiiny sneak peak from their next book and asked if it was shappic again, they said that "it's going to be more gender free.... if you get what i'm saying.... hahahah" so i think there might be a chance that one of the protagonists is non-binary??

and for the OLS fans: they told us that when they had the idea of writing jane, she was at first supposed to be a ghost haunting the subway, but they couldn't figure out how to make that have a happy ending and how to make jane and auguste make out lmao. so they came up with the idea of time travelling, that way jane could physically be there (because she's Very physhical) but also Not be there at the same time.

that was it. they were veeeeeery kind and attentious! they're very very sweet and very funny.

#red white and royal blue #casey mcquiston #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry fox #rwrb #rwrb movie #one last stop #text #alex and henry #firstprince #njbw

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frau-kali · 6 months

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Trick or treat!

Treat! I am so sorry this is late, anon, but I am hope this sneak peak of sort of Halloween inspired Silverflint fic I didn't finish in time for Halloween lmao. This is set between S3 and 4, their happiest time.

I tried to do some actual historical research for this, but I couldn't find any good weaknesses for vampires I could use so I just rolled with crucifixes, even though I don't think that was a thing until Dracula.

But anyhow, hopefully I'll finish this soon. Sorry for any typos. Hope ya all enjoy!

"Mr Davis scrambled from the hold, utterly terrified, and out onto the deck. There, hanging from the mast, were the leaders of the mutiny. There came another loud bang--" Silver stomped down with his good leg, rather pleased at how half the men around him jumped. He caught sight of Flint, smirking at him from the quarterdeck, leaning over the rail. The rest of the men all stood or sat assembled around the chair and table where their quartermaster regaled them with his second ghost story of the night.

"Lightning filled the sky, and that was when Davis noticed it - written in blood on the sails were the words," he raised his voice a little to accentuate the message, his tone dark: "Death to Mutineers and Traitors!

"Mr Davis didn't dare tempt fate after that, not that he'd seen the power of whatever supernatural thing had taken hold of his ship. He was sure it was Captain Creedy's ghost, returning to take out his wrath on the crew who'd robbed him of his chance to see his sick wife in their greed. So, he ran for the nearest launch and, packing what rations he could, he set fire to the ship, and got away as fast as possible aboard his launch. He told me he drifted for two days before he was picked up by another merchant. And he was also certain that Captain Creedy's ghost continues to haunt the sea to this day, searching for his vengeance, and intent on killing all mutineers he finds."

Silver leans back in his chair now, his eyes meeting Flint's again, and now he caught the captain's frown there.

"Now, is this story even true or was Mr Davis just some miserable fuck who'd been paid a little extra coin by the merchant captain to keep the rest of us too scared to stand up to him? I think that's a more likely explanation, if I'm being honest."

He downed the rest of the rum on the table beside him. "Well, I think that's enough for now. I hope none of you idiots will be having nightmares tonight. And if you do, I suppose it's a good thing I'm not peddling gossip anymore." That got the laugh he desired, so he heaved himself up and made for the quarterdeck. The crew parted for him, wandering away to either make for their berths or return to whatever duties were required of them. They should reach Maroon island by the morning, so the men were all quite eager to be off the ship.

Flint's lips were still turned downward when Silver moved up to stand beside him. "If you're going to start complaining, I'd much rather hear it now," he said, though he cannot quite keep the playfulness from his tone.

"I was wondering how you intended to deal with having a ship full of men who are out of their minds with fear of Captain Creedy's ghost," Flint's tone was also playful, though John could tell he was also being serious.

"Have you ever considered having just a little more faith in them? And I did try to tell them it wasn't true."

All at once, one of the men--Mr Morrisey, Silver recognized him as a new recruit--came scrambling over nervously.

"Mr Silver, sir, sorry, but uh. Me and some o' the lads was wondering about ways we might ward off the ghost tonight, should he come calling."

Silver caught Flint's knowing smirk from over Morrisey's shoulder. Smug bastard.

He hesitated, just long enough for Flint to step up. "A wooden crucifix, affixed above your hammocks, should be good enough," the captain said.

Morrisey cast a surprised look at Flint, then met his quartermaster's gaze. Silver gave him a nod. "And try not to spread your worry around about this to the men," he added, "the captain's suggestion should keep any supernatural entities at bay, so no need to worry the others about it."

"Aye," Morrisey nodded, turning the walking away, his step more sure now.

Silver turned to look at Flint, who gave him a little smile now. "You were saying?"

Silver neatly side-stepped the question with, instead asking: "Crucifixes, captain? I thought those were meant to ward off vampires."

"It reassured him, didn't it?" Flint turned and began to walk toward his cabin, glancing back, clearly making sure Silver was following.

John fell into step beside him, able to move a little better on his iron leg because he'd been sitting for the past couple of hours. And because Flint and Madi both mother henned over him so much now he was forced to take care of himself, lest he incur either of their wrath.

"You seemed to enjoy the story," Silver said, following Flint into his cabin--their cabin? Perhaps it was now. "I saw that look on your face."

Flint glanced back at him, and Silver thought maybe he could spot the flush that crept from his cheeks down his neck.

And ah, so that's how it would be. A thrill went through him at the thought, and pushed the door closed behind him, bolting it seconds before Flint shoved him right back against the wooden surface, kissing him hard.

#black sails #silverflint #my fic #trick or treat #asks

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darwinquark · 1 year

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ok so I just re-read chapter 11 (INCREDIBLE and that sex scene you added at the end??? I died 🔥🔥🔥🔥 they are so hot and in lava and it made the ending even more devastating) and I know we still have one more to go before the sequel but I AM FERAL FOR THE SEQUEL. do you have any of it written you'd be willing to share as a preview or sneak peak? I just NEED NYC JERONICA 😫

!!!! goooorrrll you're an absolute trooper for re-reading that angst monster and lmao I'm so glad you liked the new bit 😂 Just felt like I need to twist the knife a little more, you know?

I'M ALSO PUMPED FOR THE SEQUEL largely because I am so tired of writing teen angst lmao. I actually do have a little bit of chapter one written but it's like super bare-boned and kind of spoilery, so probs not worth your time, buuuuut I do have this one scene I wrote like a year ago that's got a little more to dig into. I'm honestly not even sure I'm going to use it anymore since I've restructured this particular arc in my head a little, but I think you can get a decent sense for where they're at in the sequel. Jughead's pretty shitfaced in this scene after drinks/schmoozing with a potential publisher and Veronica's trying to get him into his apartment. For context, he's been icing her out pretty much the whole night and not really letting her do her job, so she's pretty pissed, and now he's just overly loose-lipped and instigating.

----------------

“You know, I dreamed about you.”

A cold swell of warning spread over her shoulders. She blinked, refocusing on trying to find the right key to his door. “Oh, yeah?”

“Just a few times," he ventured whimsically from behind her. "Especially about your… earlobe.”

“My earlobe.”

“Yep.”

“Just the one?”

“Mm, no. They were…” he struggled to find the word in his shitfaced haze, “alternating. Alternating earlobes.”

“I see.”

“You have very dreamable earlobes. Very difficult to… undream.”

“I’ll let them know.”

“I think I might’ve loved you.”

Her pulse stuttered abruptly.

She turned to look at him after a second, keys abandoned in the lock.

“Not like,” he pulled a sour face, all drunken exaggeration, “not like big, saccharine ‘you complete me’ love—just for a second. Just like a bite. Like a quick,” he gave a brisk, playful snap of his teeth, “and then fuck, ow, love, and then it went away. Maybe.”

She just stared at him for a beat, entirely blindsided. Rattled by the magnitude of the line he'd just crossed. Her hands felt numb. “You didn’t love me, Jughead.”

“Mm, I think I did,” he mumbled, slowly easing closer, palms landing on either side of her against the door. “I really think I did.” Her pulse shot up as his nose tipped forward to glide along the line of hers, a paralyzing invasion. “You didn’t? Not even for a second, just that little lick of pain,” he coaxed his head aside to ghost his lips down the curve of her throat, “just a quick, stupid little—” his teeth caught her neck in a swift nip and she inhaled sharply, hand snapping up to push him back.

For a second she just held him there, heart stumbling wildly in her chest.

Inches away.

Fingers knotted around his collar.

His eyes had an unsettling glint to them, like he couldn’t decide if he hated her or not. Like he was caught between wanting to grip her by the thighs or grip her by the throat, but neither one would quite be enough.

“Nah,” he finally murmured after a beat, dark gaze loosening as it flitted down her face. “You wouldn’t have left if you did. You couldn’t have.” His mouth took on a corrosive little curl as his gaze slid back up to hers. “I couldn’t have.”

She fought down the raw feeling swelling in her chest, forcing her expression into something neutral. Composed. He was drunk and reckless and raring to get under her skin. This was all for a reaction. “And now you’re taking boozy meetings with some of the most exclusive publishing houses in New York, so,” she tipped her chin up a fraction, a cold flare of hauteur, “I guess it’s a good thing I could.”

His mouth drifted into a mordant smile. “Hell of a spin, Lodge.”

“It’s Luna now,” came the firm reply.

He eyed her for a long beat, smile slowly slipping into something darker. Derisive. Lit with the glinting certitude of a liar spotting a liar. “No, it’s not.”

---------------

#jeronica #wbbs #tkof #jughead jones #veronica lodge #again not sure this is quite right #but they are not friends #(but there's a lot of misunderstanding)#(it's not all angst I swear)

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chaotic-beautiful · 2 years

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Confident Porsche

This episode we got to see Porsche at the peak of his confidence with Kinn. Till now, we’ve always seen little bits of uncertainty trickling in his interactions with Kinn , as to where he stands with him. Because Kinn till Episode 6 was doing blow hot, blow cold towards Porsche. WE , as viewers know that Kinn was head over heels in love with Porsche since a long time back, but since Porsche doesn’t have the advantage of watching KinnPorsche La Forte at Iqyi , he’s not in at the exclusive infos available to us.

After forest track , especially in the last 10 minutes of it , Kinn made two huge gestures letting Porsche see exactly how important he’s for Kinn . Which was bolstered by his connection and affection for Porsche the moment he woke up from the coma. Which made Porsche increasingly confident about the hold he has over Kinn. So, during episode 7 we see Porsche being more at ease with Kinn, sitting and talking with him like a boyfriend , expecting things like supporting words, not surprized when Kinn does something sweet for him ( like sneak out to visit him ) , not raising eyebrows when he asks for a hug. Each time Kinn shows jealousy over Vegas , Porsche gets a confidence boost that Kinn is obsessed with him ( which is true. )

In the bathroom scene, we saw that same cocky smile on his face before Kinn jolted him awake with “ What are you doing..” And after that scene played out and Kinn literally ended up in a sobbing mess only contained and kept together by the encasing of Porsche’s arms , it all clicked for Porsche. He now understands that Kinn is smitten by him.

I don't think Porsche was at all jealous in episode 8. He's curious about his past , that too only because he’s literally seeing an apparently dead person everywhere ( I mean that calls for freaking out ! ) but not jealous. Not in the least.

I don’t think he ever gave two hoots about Tawan before that and nor would he have bothered to ask about him to Kinn had he not been haunted by his apparition. Even his curiosity is stemmed from his fear of ghosts and not fear of the past.

But that's because he couldn't be bothered to be jealous about a dead person. Plus, Kinn has shown him in thousand ways how madly he's in love with Porsche. Much more than any flowery words of love confession ever can. See how easily and unhesitantly he says “ Because you and I are in love. “ He has no doubt in his mind over his position in Kinn’s life. Infact , he’s the one who’s asking Kinn to keep their relationship a secret. He knows he has Kinn wrapped around his pinky finger.

But he’s unsure of himself . Not of Kinn. But himself . And the cause is very much tied to who he is as a person and his own past with love , or lack thereof to be precise. He knows Kinn is giving him his all and he wants to give back as good . He wants to be the lover to Kinn the way Kinn has been to him. He doesn’t want to be less or worse because this is his first love, first date, prior to this he’s no idea or experience of a serious romantic relationship , whether it’s with a man or woman. Which is why he’s anxious . He seeks out Yok’s advice. He meticulously plans out their first date . He wants to give it his best shot and he wants everything to be perfect for Kinn. Not because Kinn has a past . Because Kinn is his first.

But any thought of insecurity or jealousy is as far away from his mind as possible. That’ll probably change once he finds out that Tawan is very much alive next episode and Tawan will fight tooth and nail to get back in Kinn’s life and his heart. But more than jealous or insecure , I think he’ll be disappointed towards Kinn for not clearing up his boundaries with his Ex. Also, Tawan will likely construe a few scenerios where Kinn will come across as fawning upon Tawan which will create misunderstanding between them.

But not in this one. Never in this episode.

#kinnporsche #kinnporche the series #porsche pachara #kinn anakinn #kinn x porsche #mile phakphum #apo nattawin #chaotic thoughts

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cljordan-imperium · 1 year

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WORD SEARCH TAG GAME

I am behind on tag games, but I'm trying to catch up.

This tag was from @toribookworm22

My words were - BLESS, SOUL, JAM, KEY, WIND

I'm tagging - @writingpotato07, @blind-the-winds, @frostedlemonwriter, and @saltysupercomputer

Your words are - IMAGE, STONE, PLAZA, BEFORE, SOON

BLESS

“Now, Sor, you know me better than that.” Whatever he had done to make Div happy, he was thankful for it, because he was obviously being blessed. Never in the history of millennias’ worth of first dates had he had one start off this easy, not even a second date. Then again, this was Sorina, and this, he hoped, would be his last first one. “But I do believe my lady said something about wanting to take an overnight bag?” An eyebrow rose as he looked down at her beautiful face. “I also assume that you’re going to want a change of shoes for the garden.” He pulled her tighter against him. “I can keep you from getting cold, but not from heels sinking in dirt. I’m liking those heels though, a lot.” There was no misreading the grin and wink he gave her, which got him a laugh and a quick kiss from her.

SOUL

Their foreheads came together with the softest of touches and Adriel could have sworn there was an actual spark that passed between them. Not one like static electricity, but one of a soul deep connection being established. “There should be nothing about me that scares you, mia bella.” One hand left her hair, coming forward to cup the side of her face and hold it tenderly. “Unless it is the same thing that makes you so dangerous to me. What is between us is unexpected and strong, as well as unexpected. Angels mate only once….” He let the statement hang there and saw the gentle movement of her throat as she swallowed. He’d been right about what she had meant. “I promise to be most gentle with your heart, my dear one.” His thumb swept over her cheek, his expression softening and his eyes tender as he took her in. HIS female. HIS Grigori. HIS.

JAM

When Leviathan looked up, he saw his brother leaned up against the door jam with his massive arms crossed over his broad chest. Unlike Leviathan who was tall with dark hair and eyes, Mammon had lighter auburn hair and blue eyes, his frame broader and more muscular as well. They were only brothers in that they were created by Div at the creation of the Earthly Realm, so their “Father” was the same. There wasn’t much about them that was alike, other than their hatred for their father.

KEY

“We are going to need to keep them closer together. If he’s far from her again, we’re going to have a repeat. I’m pretty sure they can be in different rooms, but not different wings of the castle.” Arch answered, which made every other male’s jaw tick. “However, I believe that I’ve figured out the key to why they are here. The spell worked exactly as it should have. Whether she was to be bound to Dartan (Dar-tan) or an angel (Dare-ten) is debatable, but the spell worked as it was designed. The spectre is just an egotistical asshole.”

WIND “I would not hit my daughter, Lucifer.” Adriel’s tone was condescending and although he was addressing the fallen, his eyes were focused solely on Abbadon. His hands were glowing an ethereal blue and there was an otherworldly wind that was swirling about him. No one who had ever seen the Angel of Death and Destruction doubted that he was in no mood to discuss anything with anyone, and he was quite done with whatever shit that Abbadon was about to pull.

TAGGING SO YOU CAN SEE SNEAK PEAKS INCLUDED

THE IMPERIUM CHRONICLES TAG LIST - @ceph-the-ghost-writer @writingpotato07 @kjscottwrites @saltysupercomputer @careful-pyromancer @late-to-the-fandom @autumnalwalker @perasperaadastrawriting @fearofahumanplanet @jessica-writes22 @dogmomwrites @mjjune @verba-writing @andromedaexists

Please let me know if you want +/-

#word search game #word search #tag game #writeblr #writeblr game #the imperium chronicles #my ocs #writing #my writing #interesting snippets #snippets #writing snippet #snippet #sneak peak

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wren-of-the-woods · 2 years

Note

💡 and 👀 for the wip emoji ask?

Thank you so much for asking, dear anon!! This was fun.

💡 What inspired you to want to write it?

I was on a walk/short hike in an area I hadn't explored before, and I encountered some old, fenced-off, obviously abandoned buildings that seemed very mysterious. Naturally, I started thinking about ghosts and hauntings. I saw this Tumblr post right around that time, which also got me thinking about ghost AUs. After a period of contemplation and letting the ideas settle, my modern with magic Geraskier AU where Geralt is cursed to be a ghost was born!

👀 Can you give us any sneak peaks?

Absolutely!! Here's some pining for you <3

“Yes. That would be…” Geralt trailed off and swallowed. “Thank you. For doing this. It means… a lot.”

Jaskier desperately wanted to take Geralt’s hand and squeeze it gently, to offer the balm of some sort of touch. It was not the first time he had longed to touch Geralt. He wanted to pat his shoulder and to elbow him. He wanted to jokingly shove him when he made a bad joke. He wanted to hold his hand. Sometimes, in the dark hours of the night when Jaskier was alone, he wanted nothing more than to be able to hug Geralt, to hold him close, to be so closely intertwined that they could not tell where one ended and the other began.

He wanted, so badly that it ached sometimes, but there was nothing he could do about it. Geralt was a ghost. Jaskier was not. All they could do was look at each other.

So Jaskier looked. He gave Geralt the most encouraging smile he could manage, stood up, and did his best to seem confident.

“Of course. Don’t worry, Geralt. I’ll bring you your sorceress.”

Geralt nodded. Jaskier smiled again, bid him farewell, and set off.

Jaskier couldn’t do much, but he could do this. This was something. He would try his hardest to do it well.

From this ask game!

She was obviously Yennefer — if Jaskier hadn’t recognized her from the picture on the web site, he could have deduced it from the way everything about her screamed that she could and would kill him with a glance. She was even more terrifyingly beautiful in person than she had been in the photograph. She was so scary that it was almost absurd.

Jaskier took a deep breath, buried his terror and common sense into the depths of his subconscious where they belonged, and summoned a blinding grin.

“Hello, good madam! My name is Jaskier and I am here on a matter of some importance. Could I trouble you for a moment of your time?”

He stuck out his hand for her to shake. She looked at it with withering disdain. He withdrew his hand.

“No,” she said, and began to close the door.

“Hey, wait!” Jaskier yelped. He stuck his foot in the door and yelped again when she tried to close it anyway. Her glare was so potent that he was surprised he hadn’t already melted from the force of it. “It really is important!”

“I fail to see how anything you have to say could be remotely interesting to me.”

She opened the door again, kicked his foot out of the way, and started to close it again. Jaskier, seized the door’s handle and tugging it back open, gaining himself one more moment to speak.

“It’s about Geralt!” he shouted.

Yennefer froze.

“How do you know that name?” the irritation was gone from her voice, replaced by an icy calm that Jaskier didn’t like at all.

“Let me in and I’ll tell you.”

“Answer the question.”

“He told it to me himself.”

“Geralt is dead.”

“He also wants me to tell you he’s still angry about the time you tried to enchant something called Roach into liking you, and I hope you understand what that means because I certainly don’t and if he was just messing with me I will kill him all over again.”

Yennefer stared at him for a very long moment, her expression unreadable. Jaskier shifted awkwardly and hoped that he was not going to be transfigured into a newt.

“What else did he say?” she asked. Jaskier would not have noticed without weeks of experience reading Geralt’s subtle expressions and tones, but her voice was more unsteady than he’d thought possible.

“He said that he’s still here, he’s cursed, and he misses you.”

“That’s all?”

“He’s not particularly verbose.”

Yennefer closed her eyes and let out a slightly shaky breath. “I suppose you’d better come inside.

From this ask game!

#wren talks #asks #a song to soothe the spectre's soul #anon #wren writes #thank you so much for the ask anon #looking for snippets made me see the wip from a different angle which i really needed #i can't remember if i shared this part before so if you recognize it feel free to ask for more!#or ask for more anyway #i have 17k there's more than enough to go around

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brick-a-doodle-do · 1 year

Note

Well thank you!

How come you're gonna attack my ask box? 👀

I'mma use this to give you a short paragraph now:

Idk if you really got what I was asking completely but I'm gonna do what I meant regardless

(btw your thing being in light mode is a curse to my eyes when I see the screenshots lmao)

Paragraph:

This game had been going on for a while now. The two had been trying to get at each other for similar reasons. Except now night had fallen and the larger was asleep for once, prompting the smaller to sneak grab their sharpened, blade like needle, and head out there. They ran across the floor and expertly got onto the table. Only after jumping the gap to the bed did they start to sneak, being as quiet as possible. Once to the target, the back of the neck, they raised the needle and swung it down to plunge it into the skin...but it never happened. A hand reached around and grabbed them in a loose fist, the larger's crimson eyes staring up after they rolled into their back, holding the smaller above their face. The chilling, cold voice calmly enthused, "Seems I won our little game." Whelp. Guess this was karma for trying a sneak attack.

—

I will stop there but I fully combined both of what you mentioned mwahahaha

I love combing two things into one

It could be an au of my original idea...but I mainly didn't mean both the borrower and human being vampires, only one. I don't really think vampires could feed off each other very well. Maybe as a fill in for not having human blood? Hope you like the paragraph I gave you tho...you can do with it what you wish, and yes, I purposely didn't go to the noms part, suffer

(Not rly I just didn't want to put the first attempt in a random paragraph I didn't really intend to continue atm)

Enjoy the paragraph of a story that I didn't detail as much as I could have :P sneak peak of how I write books

yes of course! and i meant i'd attack your askbox with any ideas i had. so like in a /pos way :D

ooooh treated immediately :0 a treat!!

oh my godddd light mode. i have so much to say about this, so just bear with me,,,

i have tried SO many different modes on computer. i LOVE goth rave and could DEFINITELY get used to it, but the activity box! it's so bright!! i have to strain my eyes to even see text 😭 and dark mode i have the same problem with, also it's too dark. low contrast mode looks like it's fucking underwater, cement is WAY too bright, cybernetic is kinda cool but again the activity box sucks and pfps don't go well with the colors (and that pisses me off), canary is blinding, ghost is worse, vampire is cute but the ACTIVITY BOX MY EYES IT'S SO GREY WTF, pumpkin is alr but the orange is overpowering and THE ACTIVITY BOX!!!!!!, snow bright sucks, and pride is just way too wild. so true blue for the win! i will sit with goth rave and see if i can live with it, but for now i'm sticking with light mode as painful as it is (fyi i don't have light mode for ANYTHING else if that eases the pain <3)

OKAY now that that's out of the way!

OHHHHH 3D I LOVE THIS! I LOVE HOW YOU MIXED BOTH PROMPTS TOGETHER AND AJDSJFJ I AM BEGGING FOR MORE SOON! JUST A CRUMB! FEED THE POOR!!!!

ohh okay sorry i totally misinterpreted that :') oh my god totally i didn't even think of that i am stupid for not realizing that would just NOT work DSJFGFJSD

i do love it!!! i'm already hype for more :D

and mmm creative process sneak peak!! fun fun :> and no hard feelings for not wanting to waste your first nom writing on a paragraph that'll be showcased on my blog AAJFD i totally get that lmao

#brickquiries #3d brickling #3d my beloved 🤗#brick talks vamps

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dilirebas · 3 years

Text

there’s at least one more interview from the day of wu lei and dilraba’s livestreams that still hasn’t been released

and why

#are they just never gonna release it #so they gave us a sneak peak and ghosted?#also..i guess we’ll never get bts for some of their cutest scenes #literally the paparazzi video of them running is better than what tencent gives us #i’m just thinking about how much unseen footage will be forever unseen 😞#to be deleted

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frenziedslashers · 2 years

Note

4. “Is that a ring box in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” with maybe Bo?

I love that you sent this, because I was thinking of Bo when I listed that one 😭

Warnings: Gender neutral reader, no use of pronouns. Bo does call them princess, but it's more in a mocking way. Bo is a flirt, mentions of alcohol, fingering(s/o receiving), no condom(Wrap it up guys), cumming on stomach, slight degradation, fluff at the end

I did not proofread this and it is 12:18am, so I apologize for any mistakes.

Bo taking his s/o on a Valentines date(NSFT):

"Uh, you want some wine, doll?" Bo asked from the other room. Peaking into the living room to meet your eyes when you looked up from the couch. "Bo," He raised a brow at you. "I hate wine," He sniggered at your words, sneaking back into the kitchen to grab you both a beer before slipping back into the living room with you. Plopping on the couch right beside you with a slight groan. "Good, because we ain't got none o' that fancy shit." His words made you chuckle a bit. Leaning against him while he grabbed the remote to start the movie he had picked out for the two of you.

"What's this movie called again?" You asked, shifting so you were leaning into his side. His arm not holding his beer wrapping around your waist. Hand pressed against your thigh. "My Bloody Valentine," He informed you. Taking a swig from his beer before moving it down to rest on his thigh. A small hum leaving your throat in response to his words. Taking a swig from your own beer.

It really didn't take Bo long to lose interest in the movie. He had seen it a few times, only really choosing it because you had mentioned that you hadn't seen it. Which amazed him, so he demanded that the two of you watch it today. It was Valentines Day, after all, so what better date idea than watching a move about murder while the two of you cuddled and drank beer together?

You could tell he wasn't paying attention, too. Feeling his hand rub up and down your side. Slightly trailing up and under your shirt here and there to ghost over your bare skin. Your own attention from the movie drifting when he leaned forward to put the empty beer bottle on the table. His head turning and dipping so he could leave soft kisses against the side of your neck.

"Bo," You warned, a small smirk playing at both of your lips. "Yes, beautiful?" He asked, his hand moving to run under your shirt. Callosed fingers dragging over the soft skin of your stomach while he kissed and sucked on your neck. Leaving marks on the skin while you did your best to focus on the movie and not his intoxicating touch. "This movie was you're idea." You told him. Biting your bottom lip when his hand moved up to grope and one of your breasts. A small moan still settling in your throat.

"I know it was," He told you, hands grabbing at your waist to pull you over on to his lap. Smirking up at you when you glared slightly down at him. "This is my idea, too." He said, matter of factly. Leaning forward to give you a small peck on your lips. Before letting his hands wander up from your thighs to your chest. Smiling when you squirmed under his touch. A small grunt leaving his lips against your neck when your hips slotted against his own. His eyes fluttering shut while his hands gripped down at your thighs.

You gave your hips another testing roll with a smirk. "Is that a ring box in your pocket," Your hands ran up his shirt now. Fingernails digging into his skin, smirking when his hips involuntarily bucked up into yours. "Or are you just that happy to see me?" He snarled at your comment, a hiss leaving your lips when he bit down on your shoulder. Squeezing your hips to pull you down against him. "Dammit, don't tease me," He snapped, the gruff in his voice shooting straight to your core. Stomach bubbling with arousal.

"Fuck, take this off," You stopped him from removing your shirt, furrowing your brows. "What if Lester or Vincent comes in?" Bo smirked up at you, continuing to pull the shirt from your top. "Well," You didn't protest, especially not when he moved his mouth to your chest. Mouthing over your hardening nipples with a hum. "Gonna have to make this quick then, aren't we, sweet-heart?" He asked rhetorically. A small mewl leaving your throat as he bit and sucked at the skin of your chest. His own hands moving to hook under your pants. While your hands got to wok at removing his clothes. Bo removing his shirt and belt for you, leaving the rest for you. His hands working successfully at taking your pants off your legs. Tossing them beside the both of you on the couch.

"Fuck," He growled, your hands palming him through his pants. Letting out a yelp when he flipped you so you were on your back on the couch. His body hovering over you, keeping your legs apart for him. "The fuck did I say about teasing me?" He snapped, a hand gripping your jaw so you'd look at him. Your legs hooking around his waist while your hands continued to shimmy his pants down. "Said not to," You mumbled. His brows furrowing, a hand moving between your legs to press a finger against your entrance. Brows furrowing at the contact. A small sigh leaving your lips. "What's that, I can't hear you when you mumble princess, and y'know that." God, you wanted to hit him right now. Letting out a moan when he started rubbing you between your legs. Thighs tightening around the mans waist.

"Ya told me not to," You spoke louder this time, and he smirked. Leaning down to press a kiss to your ear, "That's right, baby," He brought his finger up to your mouth with a hum. "Now suck."

You did as you were told. Wanting to move on with his foreplay. There were times that you enjoyed it, but times like these you wanted him to cut it out and fuck you like you both wanted. Your mouth encasing his fingers, swiping around them until he was pleased with your work. Removing them from the confinements of your mouth to dip them back between your thighs. Pushing one, and then two into you. Pumping them in and out of you while you clenched and squeezed around them. Only adding a third when he was sure that you were well adjusted.

"Fuck, so tight," He groaned in your ear. sucking behind it while he continued to stretch you open.

"Fuck, Bo," You whimpered, legs wrapping around you. "What is it, what'd'ya need?" He asked with a grin. Wanting to hear you say it. "Need you," He chuckled against your skin. His breath fanning across it left a trail of goosebumps. "You have me." You bucked your hips up in attempts to gain more. "Need your dick, fuck-" You hissed when he pulled his finger out of you. The emptiness making you cringe a bit.

His fingers removed himself from his boxers. Aching and untouched, needing his own release. "Needy tonight, are we?" He asked with a smirk. Running his thumb over his tip with a grunt. Using the pre-cum to lubricate himself before giving himself a few strokes. Positionig himself at your entrance with a sigh. "Ready?" He asked, waiting for your nod of approval before pushing himself inside of you.

The stretch made you both let out a moan. His body shuddering at how tight you were around him. Your body tensing up from the intrusion. Fingers digging into the skin go his back. Leaving a delicious sting to the skin. "Shoulda had me stretch you out more," He commented, though it was less of a tease, and more factual.

It took a few moments before you moved your hips, testing the waters. His own hips jerking a bit at the movements. "Bo," You moaned into his ear, that being enough for him to lose all control. His hips rocking for a moment. The soft movements making the two of you huff-and-puff. Then he pulled back, snapping into you so he was fulling wishing you. The movement making your eyes snap shut. His hand that wasn't on your thigh gripping at your jaw. "Look at me or I stop," He was panting. Still thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace.

Your eyes parted to look back at him. His gaze on you was full of lust and love. A look that you never quite pictured on the flirtatious man. His head leaning down so his lips could catch yours for a rather heated kiss.

The kiss was a lot softer in contrast to the movement between your legs. His lips moving against yours in a slow and easy tempo. Nipping at your bottom lip with a small sigh. Your lips parting for him so he could slip his tongue in past them. His tongue met yours, battling with it for a moment or two, before sliding past it to venture along every nook and cranny of your mouth. Mapping it out as if to state he owned it. His brown eyes peering down into yours, clouded in ecstasy.

When he pulled back his lips were plump and bruised. Brows furrowing when you tugged at the back of his hair. A sharp exhale leaving his hips. Shuddering when your nailed raked down his chest. His hips stuttering against you at the sensations. "Fuck, feel sun' good," He slurred his words. Leaning down when you pulled him down so you could kiss and mark his neck. He never seemed like the type of guy to enjoy hickeys. He always seemed like the type to enjoy giving them, more than receiving, but when you left them the first time he loved it. He wore lower cut shirts just to show them off to everyone. Giving you the same amount, if not more. Just so he could let everyone know that you were the one who gave them to him, and he was the one that gave them to you. They were a trophy to him, and he would proudly show them to anyone who looked at him.

So when your lips started sucking at the skin of his neck his dick twitched inside of you. Hips stuttering again, while an airy moan left his lips. A sound that sort of surprised the both of you, but it didn't stop his hips from thrusting in and out of you.

You let out a sharp sigh when you felt your stomach clenching. Lips stopping their assault on his neck when you felt your high approaching. "I'm close," You warned, his hips only quickening in pace. Soft little noises leaving your lips with each hard snap of his hips. "Me too," He responded, finally. His thrusts growing sloppy and quick. It wasn't long before your orgasm was ripping through you. Nails scratching hard at his back. The mix of pain and your muscles clenching around him had him pulling out of you so he could finish on your stomach. Moans leaving both of your mouths as they crashed against each other for a final, and sloppy kiss. His body falling limp against yours, even if there was a mess now between the both of you.

It took him a second to gather himself. His heartbeat fading from his ears, even though it was still racing in his chest. "Happy Valentines Day, Sweet-Heart." He murmured, a tired smile gracing your lips. "Happy Valentines Day to you, too, Hun." You spoke back, voice airy and breathless. Complaining a bit when he got off of you to slip his boxers and pants back up his legs, before reaching over to the end table to grab some Kleenex's to clean the two of you up. Tossing them in the trashcan before helping you get dressed again. Smiling down at you as you stared up at him. "You're beautiful, y'know that?" He asked, and you snorted, rolling your eyes. "I'm all sweaty and gross." He snickered. Leaning down to plant a kiss on your cheek. "Yeah, but I'm why you're sweaty and gross," You snorted, rolling your eyes. Swatting him away so you could sit up. Grunting at the pain in between your legs.

"How 'bout I run us a bath, then we can cuddle and eat candy in bed?" He asked, and you smiled, yelping when he grabbed you and quickly stood from the couch. Throwing his shirt over his shoulder as he led you upstairs. "Only if you keep your shirt off." He hummed, as if questioning the idea. "Deal, but only if you keep your pants off." You smacked his check, a laugh leaving his throat while he ran you up the stairs. "Fine! Just your shirt then!"

#bo x reader #bo sinclair smut #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x you #house of wax #the house of wax #slasher x reader #minors dni

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impyssadobsessions · 2 years

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At first things were going dandy for Tim and Cass. They were just making it up the staircase, using the grappling hook to speed up the time. They were racing each other to the top. Cass had initiated the challenge by grappling up first and making a peace out sign, as a tease. Tim following behind, until a vulture popped out of the wall while they were scaling up. Cass swung and hid behind the railing at the top while Tim had to drop down and hide under the stairs a floor below. “I thought I heard something.” The vulture huffed glancing around, with squinting eyes. He flapped their for a moment, Cass preparing to shoot it, while Tim was shaking his head no at her. They both rolled back into hiding when the vulture turned to glance their way again, with sigh. “eh.. I'm getting to old for this.”

“Better than being turned into goo,” Said another one as it flew through the wall out by Tim, not having noticed him at all. Tim tried to stay low and out of sight, crouching towards the nearest door. Hoping to sneak behind it. He motioned to Cass what he was doing, who gave the thumbs up. She kept her blaster trained on the two ghostly birds. “At least as goo we wouldn't have to hear about his backstory for the hundredth time. I'm three thousand years old and I've never repeated a story as much as he done.” “That's because you can't remember them all. Feather brain.” “Who are you calling a feather brain-” Tim cursed as the door echoed in the stair way. He was afraid of that, but waiting on the old ghost vultures wasn't ideal either. So he swiftly ran for it, trying to create as large of a distance as he could. He swerved around corners, hoping to lose the trail. “Red Robin, you think you can help me with this?” Tim heard over the comms. “Uh... little busy-” He tried to reply in a whisper but was interrupted by a vulture screaming in the halls. “INTRUDER! INTRUDER!” Tim stiffened up his shoulders then he moved trying to stay away from the noise. “What was that?” Batman asked. “Vultures. Ghost vultures, they talk unlike the other animal ghost we found.” Tim keeping his voice to a whisper. “Do they have a stupid fez hats?” Danny asked, loud enough to be clearly heard over the comm. “Uh... yes?” “Frootloop employs them for his schemes, he does that with a lot of ghosts. They're push overs though... as long as you don't let them peck at your face.” “Noted.” “Is Orphan still with you?” Dick asked. “No, we got separated. I don't know what floor I'm stuck on. I think the coast is clear.” Tim peaked around the corner trying to double check. The hall was empty and he couldn't hear the birds anymore. He wondered if they went after Cass. Tim took the time to examined where he was, he couldn't read the writing on the wall. He stood up fully, deciding to peak into the room beside the writing. The room was filled, floor to ceiling with cages. Most were empty, some held glowing green rats. Just one or two filled with wild game. Damian would be furious if he caught sight of this. “Red Robin?” Batman called from the com. Tim must have went too quiet. Bruce, when not in the action becomes more paranoid then ever. “Still here. Just came across one of the rooms, where he kept all the animals in. I'm guessing before most of them became ghosts. Most of the cages are empty, except for some ghost-wait are they ghost? Green maybe ghost rats, a couple rabbits, and a deer.” “Anything else?” “Nothing to note.” Tim stated as he passed by the cages, examining the room. “Think you have enough time to help me decode these files. I thought they were in ghost, but Danny says they're just corrupted. I did a restore, but the files are left unchanged. However, I can open source codes for it.” Dick explained quickly. “So it was corrupted manually?” “Way its looking, but it gets stranger, its still not in English. The characters are though.” Tim hummed as he stood by the rats. “Probably made it so that each letter is at least one letter off from another.” “Must have an easy way of scrambling it, and unscrambling it then.” Typing could be heard over the com. “Might be hidden in the file itself-” Tim was walking as he spoke, until his foot accidentally bonked a cage. It caused the animals to screech with life, “Shhhhhh shhh-” “Ah! I knew you couldn't keep things quiet for long, little badger.” The voice silenced the animals as it echoed from the hall. He sounded like a smug bastard, Tim noted. “Plasmius.” Danny's voice was heard over the comms. Tim looked for a way out, taking another door into a back room. It had an operation like table and straps, a giant spot light in the center. Tim did not like the looks of this room, or being trapped in it. There wasn't any other exit points, none that didn't look like a chute. Probably to an incinerator, either way, he wasn't testing his luck. He pressed himself against the wall where

the door was, hoping to use the door as cover and run out. “Daniel? Playing hide and seek are we? Honestly, aren't you to old for that?” Plasmius phased through the door, reminding Tim that ghosts didn't need doors a little too late. Though thanks to the lighting in the room, the darkness concealed Plasmius's peripheral. Plasmius growled, “I can smell that retched stench off of yooouu-” Plasmius spun around only to see the door swinging back and fourth. The chase was on. Tim ran out of the two rooms and trying to make his way back to the stairwell, or at least give Plasmius a run around to buy everyone more time. He wasn't sure how well that'll work considering the ghost could fly through walls. He kept hand on his blaster just in case.

-----owo----

Dick frowned, as he continued to work on the computer. Keeping an ear open, for any signs that Tim needed help. He kept his voice low, “We don't have much time until Plasmius figures out the truth.” Jason gave a nod, then nudged Danny to help him look around more. Danny stared at him with a defying, skeptical look. He was ready to run off to fight. Kid had plenty of spunk, even when constantly on his death bed. “Red Robin has a knack for not dying, unlike us. He'll be fine, but we need your help being our local ghost informative.” Danny raised a brow, but by his cheeks seem to be trying to suppress a smirk. He hesitated before giving a sigh and looking around. Jason was relieved, usually he was the one needing to have his impulses checked.. strange having to keep someone else's. They explored the room, Danny avoiding the capsules. He had enough looking at them. He didn't want to see his face staring back at him, again. He doubted he be able to look at a mirror anytime soon after this either. Danny felt a pull on his chest, he pressed his hands on the wall. Something was behind it. It felt like a- Danny glanced for a door or any indication of opening one. “Access denied-” A voice that sounded like his mom chimed as a sheet of metal glowed beside him. He adjusted his sight to see in the dark, them glowing a faint green. He could see the built in panel better. “What you found, spirit?” Danny stuck his tongue out at the nickname, not that Jason could see it behind the mask. “I prefer being called Phantom myself. Back room, there's a hand scanner.” “Phantom? Is it like your hero name?” Jason walking over to check the wall, tapping on it. Judging if it was easier to blow a hole in it or trying to hack the scanner. Danny jolted, rubbing his arm. “Heh. I guess... Towns people might have different opinions.” “Do you protect people?” “Uh.. yes.” Often. “Do you fight anyone that harms others?” “Yes....?” “Then you're a hero.” “I think you're simplifying it.” “I think you're over complicating it.” Jason was simplifying it, as he knew he was more of the antihero type himself. “People often don't appreciate others until they lose them. The fact you're still trying says a lot, kid.” “Do any of you have to deal with the town hating you?” “............I'm not considered a hero by all, either. Not that I want to be. I want people to know I have a line, and not to fucking cross it.” Jason managed to pop out the panel from the wall, with a knife. “Do you protect people?” “You're not turning this around on me-” “Do you?” “Sometimes..” “Do you fight anyone that harms others?” “Depends who it is and fight is an underwhelming word.” Jason prefer beat the shit out of them. “Counts. You're a hero.” “Not how it works kid-” “You're just over complicating it.” Danny said with cheeky tone. “Smartass.” Jason ruffling Danny's hair then shoving it gently from him. “It's not the same. I've killed people.” “And one of my best friends killed me.” “Accidents don't count.” Jason grunted as he fiddled with the wiring. “Second time wasn't.” Danny muttered looking off to the side. Jason paused, feeling heat rise. “Second.. time?” “Yeah, buuuttt I only remembered it once.” As if that dampened the scenario any. “Sam made a wish while the genie ghost was in town, long story short. I wasn't Phantom and Amity needed one, so she recreated how I died. Got a cool logo out of it.” “............” This kid was trying to kill him. Jason could feel water boiling in his veins. “..Sometimes I want to lash out at her for it, but I know she feels guilty about it. I think it be better if we talk, but one, feelings what are they? And two.. I don't think she could handle one.” Danny was playing it off. Awkward silence fell between them, as Jason tried to calm himself. He focused on the task, mindlessly. Danny felt bad for mentioning it now. Internally cursing at himself. “You should tell her, Danny.” Dick spoke. Reminding the two that their conversation was indeed not private. Jason cursed, remembering Bruce was listening in too. “Also, I

found out how to get into the files. Despite all the new tech, he likes doing things the old fashion way, huh?” Dick was grateful to. “Yeah, ghosts tend to stay stuck in the past. Kind of our nature.” Danny semi joked as he walked over to Dick. Jason stayed put, working on the wiring still. The line not loosing significance on him. Danny spoke like there was always a joke. It made Jay wonder if he was a bit more ghostly than zombie, as what Danny mentioned.. felt eerily similar. Maybe it was a dead thing. They heard static of a com turn on, as Batman started to scold. “Robin! I told you not-” “Father, would you like to explain why you've compromised our identities by outing Richard's name.” “Pfft.” Jason choked on a laugh that tried to burst out. “B, did what?” Steph could be heard faintly over the comms. He guessed where there was more interference where they were. Jazz was heard in the distance, Damian hissing. “That is not an excuse!” “Wait, Baby bird. What do you mean?” Dick asked as Danny peaked his head around to look at the files. “Means, the Fenton girl knows.” “Jazz knows what? Wait! Is she with you, is she ok? How hard do I need to hit Vlad in the face?” Hearing other people on their comms, must have been out of Danny's hearing, at least from what distance he was when they spoke. “She says she's fine, and that she kicked him in the groin earlier. Which I can confirm, did indeed happen.” Danny let out a breath in relief with a bit of a chuckle. “Great. That. You. All.... are... good..” Tim chimed panting. He didn't think he could keep this up much longer. Once or twice, he had to shoot at Plasmius to get by. Luckily, they were duplicates so he was able to keep the element of surprise. “Red Robin, what's your situation? Do you need back up?” “I-” “Finally cornered you, Little Bad-Wait, you're not Daniel!?” Shit. owo Plasmius floated from his spot, staring down at Red Robin who was stuck at an end of a hall. He had been giving Plasmius a run around through doors and corridors, but he could only run for so long. “Uhhhh, no. But I can leave a message?” Tim whipped out his blaster, ready to defend. Plasmius seemed to still be in shock at finding out Danny wasn't the only one running around. He growled, eyes glowing red, as his hands charged with similar color. Then he howled in pain, dissolving into goo from a struck of green. Cass standing in his place, spinning her green staff. She gave a nod to Tim, who let out a breath in relief. She must have been taking out the duplicates and ghost while he was on the run. “Report?” Batman was going to have his share of heart attacks when this was all over. “Orphan took out the duplicate. Plasmius knows we're here.” Tim sighed. “Hurry up and find their parents.” “Jasmine thinks she saw them a few floors down, we're going to start looking on the 8th floor.” Damian stated, as footsteps were heard. “Jasmine? Not girl Fenton?” Jason teased. “Don't be ridiculous. It be tiresome to keep referring to her as Fenton or girl Fenton, when they are all Fentons.” “And not being slightly impressed she figured out your identity has anything to do with it?” “It was partially your fault that she-” “Enough.” Batman grunted. “Me and Orphan are on our way.” Tim nodded to Cass in agreement to start running, as they made their way back to the stairway. “We'll finish up here and meet you guys upstairs.” Dick stated. “Let us know if you need extra hands.” “Fruitloop will have clones of himself all over the place.” Danny grumbled, as he was being held back. “More than he had?” Tim groaned. He was already tired of this ghost. Cass just chuckling.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #danny phantom crossover #batman crossover #dc crossover #batman #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #cassandra cain #jazz fenton #damian wayne #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #vacation crashers #fanfic #batfam #batfamily

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blackestnight · 2 years

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the gravekeepers

set in the early part of the gap between 6.0 and 6.1, and does contain spoilers all the way through 6.0 msq. or: i replayed ARR on an alt, had a feeling, did a bunch of sidequests around drybone that compounded the feeling, and then had several days with a lot of free time.

As it drew nearer to noon and the sun reached its peak, the bare stone of Camp Drybone would catch the light and the heat like a bowl placed under a leaky roof, driving all but the most devoted pilgrims into the cool dark of the underground tavern and inn and shops until the shade returned; early in the morning, though, it was still bearable, and Hanami waited in the shadow of the rickety old ramp that climbed out of the hollow.

Eventually a single hooded figure came down into the camp from the southwestern gate. Not quite dressed like a pilgrim—light cotton, practical for keeping the sun off his skin, and exceedingly practical boots covered in oil and ceruleum and who knew what other machining fluids.

“You are late,” she called, as he made his way across the plaza.

When Cid dropped his hood, he was grinning, and he clapped one hand gently on her left shoulder. “Aye, well,” he said, “some of us have to get around the hard way. You done with your shopping?”

She nodded. When they turned to climb the ramp back out of camp she said, “You stink like horsebird.”

“Give us an hour and neither of us will be smelling that fresh,” he said, and she wrinkled her nose because he was right.

The road to the Church of Saint Adama Landama had been old when the building itself was new. It wavered between broken cobbles and packed dirt, rough with tracks from hand carts, and the sight of the grooves made Hanami think: eight years. She wondered at the difference between ritual and tradition, or maybe habit, and whether one was better than the others, and how many more years of ruts she would have to leave on this road before she settled into the right word.

Not that she came every year. She’d missed two: once when she was stuck on a boat halfway between Limsa and Kugane, and once when she’d been drowning in her own Light-filled lungs on the First. Not that she was the only vigil-keeper, either; Cid was more consistent, leveraging his supposed erratic flights of fancy to sneak away from the Ironworks, if it could be called sneaking when everyone knew what he was up to. Others came and went at their whims, but it had started like this and sometimes Hanami thought it would continue until her and Cid’s bones were as brittle as the dirt beneath their feet.

The last turn in the road before the church doors was a mess of crumbled stone, and Hanami was careful picking her way over it, until she stepped onto the dry grass scattered between the headstones.

The grave marker was old, not as old as the road but nearly as much as the church, and the remains it guarded had been dead for even longer than that, apparently, moved from the city after the moon fell. Hanami wondered what it said about her that she didn’t really think much about the man buried here. She couldn’t bring herself to feel too guilty. He’d been dead long before she set foot on Eorzean soil, and while some long-dead names seemed to haunt her every step, this one wasn’t her ghost. There were other people to remember him. So she knelt carefully and gave a perfunctory nod to the name Warburton etched in the brass plaque on the stone, but when she fumbled in her bag (Cid reached silently to hold open the flap, and she thanked him and cursed her useless right arm with the same scowl) the flowers she laid down weren’t for him.

White and red. Most everything else in her bag had come from the florist back in camp, overpriced and scrubby from growing in the desert heat, but the Velodyna cosmos were still cool from the ice shards she’d nestled around them, fresh-harvested from the Peaks. Cid was silent and unsmiling when he knelt beside her, producing a rag from his pocket to polish the nameplate and the fresh etching along the bottom, careful lettering in the best imitation Hanami had been able to do of F’lhammin’s handwriting.

F’lhammin came out here often, Hanami knew, even if her visits didn’t coincide with this ritual-tradition-habit. There were no weeds to pull from the grave or bits of mud clinging to the rock. Hanami laid one hand on the top of the marker and then leaned forward to rest her forehead against it; even this early in the day the stone was warm, like a hand pressed to her brow.

The Atiascope hadn’t been warm, or cold, just—there, a constant pressure on her skull, like what she imagined when people complained that their ears popped. Every flicker of the dead’s attention on her had lit up her skin like a live wire. After that place where memory was made manifest, the lichyard seemed barren.

“You think she’s getting her rest?” Cid asked, replacing the rag in his pocket. She wondered how much he knew. She hadn’t told him the specifics of what she’d seen in the Lifestream, but maybe the others had said something.

“I think so,” she said, thinking of bare feet on glittering stone, dim golden light and a fading flicker of a smile.

Cid grunted. “Good,” he said. “She always did work too hard.”

Which was hilarious, coming from him, and even moreso directed to her, but the joke wilted in the heat. Hanami closed her eyes and swallowed the itch on her tongue; she’d never been good at prayers and they seemed pointless when she knew Minfilia’s spirit wasn’t here. When she sat up Cid still had his head bowed. She’d never asked him if he prayed. She thought he’d adopted Eorzea’s myriad gods as his own, but it wasn’t her business and she didn’t like to invite questions in return.

The grass crackled under them both when they stood, leaving the flowers behind on the stone, and wandered off to their private little tasks. She watched Cid clasp hands with one of the Sisters, Eluned or Ourcen, probably, and vanished around the side of the building with their heads bent low; Hanami paced through the graves, brushing off dust and pulling weeds, nudging aside the desiccated, rotten remains of old offerings. At least the gravestones seemed to be holding up well. The year before she and Cid had stayed almost a fortnight, fixing the markers they could and replacing the ones that were beyond repair. Father Iliud had tried to pay them but Hanami already had more gil than she knew what to do with and Cid always said he still had a debt from five years lived in church robes, even though by then he’d been living as his new-old self longer than he’d ever been Marques, and neither of them mentioned that the meager stipend the church got from the Order wouldn’t begin to cover the cost of the stone they’d hauled clear from Bronze Lake, never mind the cost of their time. Iliud let them make their excuses either way, so it was fine.

The new plaques had been her project, bent over sheets of bronze in the dim light of the church, using the altar as a bench and working her way through the list of interred dead from the records Iliud had given her. Most of the plaques had more than one name, and some had none, a consequence of nameless bodies dumped on the doorstep, but for those Ourcen and Airell had given her little sigils to draw, holy symbols and tokens of good luck and peaceful rest. There was another one, hung by the door, names without bodies to accompany them, but Iliud had insisted that their memories had a place here even if their corpses were scattered to the winds.

She stopped at a stone marked with three names: two strangers, victims of the Calamity, maybe, and at the bottom neat markings that spelled out Una Tayuun. Lilies were hard to come by out here, but the florist in Camp Drybone had just brought back fat fistfuls of lavender, so Hanami laid a few sprigs against the marble and continued her pilgrimage.

Haribehrt. Percevains. Satzfloh. Liavinne. Clive, Ursula next to him, Hanami hadn’t even known her name until she’d been dead three moons and really only remembered her as being an antisocial jackass, not that she could talk. Aulie, laid to rest with the only family she’d chosen in her life. More cosmos, for her, tied with a ribbon, and a piece of slate rough-hewn into the shape of a spear head.

“Arenvald said he will be back,” Hanami murmured, weighing down the flowers with the carving. “Once we finish his new chair. He did not think the one he has now would do so good on the road here.”

She waited, listening to the wind whistling across the rock and the broken roads. She’d never had much patience for speaking with the dead. Maybe they just didn’t have patience for her, which was fair. But the only sounds remained her own breath and the buzzing of flies, so eventually Hanami stood, dusted off her knees with her one good hand, and moved on.

By the time she’d wound her way through the lichyard the sun was uncomfortably high in the sky, and it was a relief to step into the scant shade of the doorway, stooping to lay down one last offering. The rest of the lavender, her last few cosmos, a clumsy attempt at slate claws to cover them. A’aba Tia’s tribe had claimed his body but Arenvald had said the rest of his family’s there, you know, which was plainly false when Arenvald himself was still breathing but Hanami wasn’t about to argue over sentiment. She traced over the other names—Bhaldthota, Darnella, Marcus, Fafaniso—and, satisfied that the etchings had held up to the weather, ducked inside.

The dusty sunlight through the windows and the smell of sand on the floorboards always hit her like a fist to the throat. Not an Echo vision, but it hurt like one if she let it, splashing blood back onto the soles of her boots and crusting it under her nails, blinding her with sun and fear and leaving her choking on it—dead, they are all dead, help me, help me, help me—

Father Iliud met her with a calm, sad smile, and Hanami bit the inside of her cheek and let the copper taste keep her in the present. “Welcome back, my child. When word reached us of your departure in that great star-ship, we held vigils praying for your safe return. And you have come back to us healthy and whole?”

She gave him a shallow bow; whole was out of her reach on any given day, but the cracked edges of her soul had worn against each other so long that it was almost the same thing. “Almost,” she said, lifting her right arm in its sling and wiggling her fingers as best she could. The motion sent hot sparks up to her elbow. “Nothing I cannot live with.”

In her mind, eight years overlapped with two weeks, bouncing off each other like pebbles dislodged underfoot, and skittered away to collide with all the time in the world. Two weeks to let the bones in her wrist finish mending, to get the stupid sling off, and then…however long it took her to teach her nerves to listen to her again. They burned, now, like fire licking under her skin, and her fingers only twitched when she told them to move. Permanent joined the little landslide, echoed in the voice of one of the half-dozen sages who had poked and prodded her during her confinement in Sharlayan.

Whatever, she thought fiercely. She’d come through permanent before, staggering back to her feet after losing her horn and strapping metal in its place. She would come through this, too, re-train her arm into obedience, and if she couldn’t do that she would build a new one. She had time, now, to do it. And she’d stopped believing in impossible things when she’d heard her own heart stop at the edge of the universe and woken up on the bridge of the Ragnarok anyway.

Father Iliud fussed, bustled, busied his hands hovering over her arm and pouring her tea even though she was fine, and in the middle of all that the door creaked open again to admit a gust of wind that scattered dirt across the floorboards and Cid, grimy and glistening with sweat. “Good to see you again, Father,” he said, scrubbing at his forehead with his sleeve.

“Welcome back, Cid,” Iliud said, and rose to greet him—more effusive with Cid than he ever was with Hanami, meeting him with a warm hug, always so attentive to both of their comfort. “Goodness, look at you. What have you been doing out there?”

Cid slung his toolbag off his shoulder and gratefully took the glass of tea from Iliud’s hand. “Oh, this and that,” he said. “I asked Eluned how your water filter was holding up, took a look at it. And Barryn said you’d been having problems with your roof tiles?” Cid tipped his head in Hanami’s direction. “I’d ask for your help on that one if you weren’t being so lazy today.”

Hanami glowered at him over her glass. “My arm is broken.”

“Excuses,” Cid said, genial, and she reached out to tap the side of his knee with her boot in a gentle mockery of a kick.

The air in the church seemed—lighter, with all three of them there. Less stifling. The phantom fingers grasping at Hanami’s lungs eased their grips. Maybe it was because, where every look at Iliud reminded her of Minfilia, of Scion blood in her clothes, she always struggled to see any trace of Marques in Cid’s face. Watching him fall back in love with life as they hunted for the Enterprise had been almost too bright to bear, back then, but it was good to see him like this now, having scraped together the pieces of his old selves to build a new one from salvage. Maybe that’s why he’s always been so patient with her. The Scions were, for the most part, too kind to say it to her face, but she knew how grating she could be. Not that she’d ever been sorry. She’d never been the sort to skin over her hard edges for the comfort of others. Cid, she thought, must still remember what it was like to have lost so much he couldn’t even name, to be too overwhelmed with the wreckage to bother with saving face. But he’d pulled something together—maybe not Cid Garlond, prodigy of the Empire; she hadn’t known him then but sometimes watching the furrowed brows of Biggs or Wedge when he spoke made her wonder—something new, someone who would build his new future with his own hands.

Kami save her if she ever admitted to his face that she envied him a little. The best she could do was try to catch up.

Iliud poured a second cup of tea for Cid even while he frowned. “I am always happy to have you with us—both of you—but you know you do not need to work while you are here. Please do not consider us an obligation. You both do so much already.”

Hanami shook her head and closed her eyes as she sipped. Mint tea wasn’t her favorite (she would argue that it wasn’t really tea, either) but she and Cid had brought it with them the first two visits, and Iliud enjoyed it, so she could tolerate it for the day.

“It’s nothing, Father,” Cid said. “I’m afraid we’re just the meddling sort. Never can keep our noses out of other people’s business.”

Hanami snorted. “I want to help,” she said. “You know that.”

Iliud seemed resigned; the same arguments had never availed him before but he seemed determined to trot them out again, to let them leave their marks on the pew like another pilgrim. “I would not ask either of you to do yet more work when we should, by all rights, be serving you. You have done so much for the people of Drybone…in your treating with the Amalj'aa, to say nothing of your saving the rest of the realm.”

She stared into her cup, still gently steaming; Cid always brought mint tea and cinnamon cookies when they visited Father Iliud, because he remembered from his days as Marques how Iliud liked to nurse a cup after days when bodies piled high on the church stoop, and Hanami vaguely remembered another one of the Order—Esmour, maybe—whispering about a son Iliud had lost to the Calamity, and a daughter-in-law. Maybe that was why Cid always came. Iliud always insisted they owed the church nothing, but the debt incurred by being taken in—lost and broken in unspeakable ways, given shelter and guidance and a purpose again—wasn’t the sort that could be repaid with a few mended stones or tidied graves. Maybe Alphinaud had been the one to drag them back out into the world, to force them to pretend to be real people until they remembered how to do it without prompting, but Hanami had no doubt that if it hadn’t been for Iliud and the Order she would have fallen on the floorboards of the church and laid there until her bones returned to sand. And maybe it was a little bit about guilt, too, that the bodies in the lichyard were laid there for the crime of not being interesting, not being her, not being worth the cost to imprison, and there was no repaying a debt like that either but she could at least make sure someone remembered them when the rest of the world said Scions and meant liberators, god-slayers, star-voyagers when so many of the Scions hadn’t even lived to see Gaius van Baelsar brought to his knees.

And maybe, the nastiest part of her said, it wasn’t even about debts. She’d never set out to be a hero. She’d saved the world as means to an end, as a way to become strong enough to exact the vengeance she felt she was owed, and hang Eorzea and its helpless masses. None of them mattered as much as grinding the Empire under her heel. Breaking things had always come easily to her, so maybe that was why she kept coming back to this place where broken things learned to mend themselves. To this place where they were allowed to be broken, and strange, and angry, because the dirt and the dead didn’t mind. The desert always seemed willing to take her as she was while she figured out who she wished to be.

“I want to,” she said again, and Iliud left it at that.

—

Her right arm was useless, but Hanami knew—a certainty, not a boast—that she could lift more than most people even with one arm tied behind her back, so having it tied up in a sling wasn’t much different. She wouldn’t trust herself to keep her balance on roof tiles but flipping over pews and reinforcing loose joints was easy enough, at least with little Eduuard willing to hold the nails for her, or serve as a second hand to keep the wood in place while the glue took hold. Afterward Airell had her carry a jug of oil to refill the lamps around the fences; the oil smelled strongly of sage and the smoke just smelled bad, but apparently it was keeping away most of the flies. She had to prop the jug on her right shoulder and let her left hand guide the mouth down to pour, all with her neck twisted at an angle to keep her horn clear of the clay. It was still less arduous than asking Airell to help her with something that was more awkward than it was difficult.

The sun was high enough now that even just walking the perimeter of the fence left sweat clinging to her underarms, her temples, the base of her spine. The bleached soil that made up the scrublands of Drybone reflected the heat back, so even lounging in the negligible shade of the trees by the gate (as the on-duty Brass Blades were doing) never helped much. She made her way back to the building feeling oily and hot and gross, with the ends of her hair plastered to the parts of her neck not covered by scales. After tucking away the jug of oil it was back out into the lichyard, this time with a basket slung over her good elbow while she paced between the rows, gathering up old offerings that had withered in the unmerciful sun. The flowers and organic matter she would toss onto the church’s compost heap before she left; the bottles and charms would be returned to the church, either to be cleaned and re-sold or to be repurposed some other way. Esmour had mentioned wanting to break up already-damaged offering bottles and turn the shards into a mosaic depicting the symbol of Nald’thal, which was at least better than letting the broken glass linger on a shelf gathering dust.

There was something there, about trappings of mourning being turned into pieces of worship, that felt the closest she’d come to understanding an Eorzean god, but rather than examine it too closely Hanami just lined up the bottles on a window sill for Esmour and went back outside to upend the rotten flowers onto the compost heap. By the time she made the (hot, sticky, stinking of burned oil and dead vegetation) hike back up to the church, Cid had finally climbed down from the roof, in turn stinking of sweat and some sort of sealant.

“Told you,” he said, wiping his face with the hood of his discarded robe when she fanned her hand in front of her nose. “The roof will be fine for a while, but the next time we’re here I may need you to work your magic on it. So no more broken bones, aye?”

Hanami just swiped some sweat off her own forehead and flicked it at him. Cid cackled.

Iliud was apparently busy meeting with a pilgrim from Hammerlea, which was for the best; Hanami hated making a fuss of leaving. Barryn met them at the door with skins of clean, cold water, which Hanami barely resisted pouring over her head instead of drinking, and with an offer of a blessing for protection on the road, which Cid accepted and she did not, shaking her head and stepping away while Barryn murmured out of a prayer book. At least he didn’t seem offended, and didn’t seem to notice her dropping coins next to the offering box.

She understood the theory of paying gold to gods, but from what she’d seen, people always seemed to make better use of it.

The Brothers and Sisters of the Order had retreated inside against the afternoon heat, so their walk back down the road to Camp Drybone was long and quiet; Hanami picked out the Scions’ graves as they passed them, looking for the flowers that would remain fresh for a few more hours at least, and Cid had retreated into a tired silence, once more hooded to keep the sun off his skin. The guard posted at the ramp down into camp gave them a lazy nod when they passed.

“You will be fine to get back by yourself?” Hanami asked, as they neared the aetheryte and the little underground tavern. The porters probably wouldn’t let anyone take their birds out until it had cooled slightly, and Cid insisted the ale was at least good even if the smell of it always made Hanami gag.

“Yes, unless you can magick up a way for the bird to walk faster,” he snorted. “Only need to go as far as Black Brush this time. They’ve got their rail station running clear through the old Amajina mines and around the mountains up to the border of Mor Dhona, did you hear? Faster than a chocobo by far. Heard they might look on expanding out this way next, to get a logging line from the Shroud. Not as fast as an airship,” he added, “but not bad for long-haul transport.”

“So you will not need to stink like a horsebird,” she said.

“Yes, that’s exactly the takeaway,” he said. “Though it means if you want to come here again, before the usual time, Jessie won’t need to take quite as many travel days out of my hide.”

The usual time startled her. But—of course he knew, obviously he knew, it just wasn’t an anniversary she’d ever heard another Scion acknowledge. The day the dead from the Waking Sands arrived at their final rest. Possibly the rest of them didn’t know the date, exactly. She’d certainly never spoken of it. To hear it now was jarring.

A silent tradition, to eke out time in their world-saving to come back and pay respects, Hanami to the dead who gave her purpose and Cid to the living who gave them both sanctuary. But there was no reason a tradition couldn’t be interrupted.

“Tell me when,” she said. “And I will come back with you to finish the roof.” And maybe help Esmour with his mosaic. Refitting glass was a process ripe for disaster, to the untrained.

“It’s a deal,” Cid said, and clapped her gently on the shoulder once more, rather than try to shake her hand. “Are you sure I can’t treat you to lunch before you go?”

Hanami shook her head; she never let him, not with one more place she had to be. “Tell Jessie I said hello,” she said. “And tell Nero to go fuck himself.”

With another hearty laugh and a mocking salute, Cid retreated into the tavern, vanishing into the cool dark. Hanami waited for the door to swing shut behind his bootfalls before she closed her eyes and began to cast her body into the stream of aether that swirled around the aetheryte; even before the spell had finished she could taste crushed grass and clean rain on her tongue, and the strangely sweet scent of woodsmoke that always lingered around the Hawthorne Hut.

The sylphs had no use for flowers, and they worshiped none of Eorzea’s gods. But there was a tree, back towards the border of Larkscall, dotted with rusting nails and scraps of thread, and a piece of ribbon at the bottom of her bag dyed a rich green that she remembered Noraxia being fond of, when she had toyed with disguising herself as a hyur. The weave was loose enough that Hanami would be able to mount it on a nail without having to pry it out and hammer it back in.

The ribbon wouldn’t last much longer than the flowers, being exposed to the elements, but that was alright. For a few days at least it would be clean and bright, a reminder of the things Noraxia had loved, and that would be enough.

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #cid garlond #oc: hanami hagane #no matter how many times i play this game the waking sands always hits like a brick to the lungs #writing - mine

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justallofmyfandoms · 3 years

Text

Revenge is best served Small

Reader x Fred Weasley

Reader x George Weasley

NO TWINCEST!!

SMUT! SMUT! SMUT!

(Just to make this less awkward on all of us, yes I am clearly going through some stuff, and yes everyone enjoys what happens to them in this, even if it's reluctantly. Nothing unconsensual. 6,486 words)

[There’s a comment on this post that perfectly summarises it: “i have no idea what just happened to me all i know is that i will never be the same after reading this” so... read at your own risk my dudes, I am so sorry]

You slam a fist into the common room desk, glaring down at your potions homework with enough anger to perform the killing curse on it. Or maybe crucio would be better, just so the homework can suffer all the same pains it's inflicting on you.

A chair at the table scraps against the floor with someone plonking themselves on it. You look up to see Fred Weasley, leaning over the desk to stare down at your paper, "Having trouble with your potions essay?" He asks, evidently just to piss you off because it's pretty obvious you were.

"Bugger off, Weasley. We can't all pay zero attention during class and still get perfect grades" you focus back on your work, but not fast enough to miss Fred's shit eating grin.

"Still mad I got a better grade on our end of semester test?"

"No!" You snap back, perhaps a little too quickly. It made the ginger chuckle. You and the twins had been good friends since first year, but it infuriated you to no end every time they got a good grade, because you just knew it was all talent and no effort.

The twin crossed his arms and leant them on the table, scooting closer to you, "Not that I don't love the look of anger on your face, but why does it annoy you so much? You've been going on about this for six years"

"It doesn't matter, I just wanna get this stupid essay over with!" you complain, throwing your quill on the desk, "Where's your brother, anyway? He said he would help me."

Fred pats your head and sighs, "Ditched by your own boyfriend? There's tragic..." You knew he was just being a prick, Fred always did enjoyed teasing you, but you hadn't seen George all day. It was beginning to worry you. Besides, you two had made it a tradition to do your potions homework together ever since third year.

"He actually sent me here to apologise. He's at tonight's party up in Ravenclaw tower. The ol' sod's drunk a bit too much to help out I'm afraid"

You sit up and frown, the anger being pushed to the back of your mind out of newfound sadness, "Oh... he could have at least told me he was going to the party..."

Fred nods sympathetically, but eventually grins and scoots closer, "In the meantime, how about a deal?" You'll be getting whiplash from all these emotions. First anger, then hurt, and now Fred was making you highly suspicious. He has that expression he gets when dreaming up a crazy plan.

"If you help me with a little scheme I've concocted, I'll help you finish your essay" he continues since the only reaction you initially gave was a squint.

"What kind of scheme?"

He drums the table, bitting back a smile that might warn you off, "I've come up with a new product idea, but in order to make it, I need a very rare ingredient that can only be found in one place"

You sigh, resting your cheek against your raised fist, "Snape's supply closet..."

He points at you like in charades, "Exactly!"

"How do I know you'll actually help me? Making a deal with you is a bit like making a deal with the devil"

"We'll get the essay done tonight!" He declares, spinning the paper to face him, and picking up a nearby quill, "Then tomorrow, you'll help me get the potion"

After a fair amount of consideration, you nod, "Alright, deal!"

"Remind me again what the plan is?" You and Fred were stood in the women's bathroom on the first floor, a bathroom you generally tried to avoid as it was occupied by a particularly annoying ghost called Moaning Myrtle. She didn't seem to be revealing herself though, which you assumed had something to do with Fred teasing her about her nickname and the... other connotations "moaning" has.

Fred took a small vial from his trouser pocket. The contents were green and bubbling, "First, I'll drink this shrinking potion, then you'll take me in your robe pocket all the way to Snape's classroom and put me on the third shelf up next to his supply closet. I'll sneak in through the hole my brother and I drilled there years ago, grab the bottle and get out!"

"You mean you and George have done this before?" you asked, watching as he set the bottle down on the edge of the sink, taking off his robe to hang it over the cubicle wall

He turned back to watch him roll the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, "Yeah, every now and then if we need tough to find ingredients"

"And what exactly do I do?"

"Well, while I'm getting the bottle, you keep an ear out for Snape, then when I get out, you grab me and the bottle, put me in your robes and bring us back here so I can have my regrowth potion" he pulls another vial out of his pocket which is red and shiny.

"Sound good" you say, while he plonks the potion back into his pocket, and pops off the cork on the shrinking one.

"Bottoms up" he says, and downs the contents. The second he does, Fred begins to shrink! His clothes, thankfully, shrink down in size with him, until finally, he was no bigger than your pinky.

"Wow!" You exclaim, squatting down, "This is super dangerous. I could step on you."

"Please don't..." Fred mutters, his pitch the exact same despite his small size, just a bit quieter due to the distance and size of his mouth and all that. Damn, TV and movies have lied to you. A look of mild horror suddenly adorns Fred's face as he pulls something out from his trouser pocket. It's so small, you had trouble realising it was his regrowth potion, "Oh bugger! I forgot about that..."

You were tempted to lie down on your stomach and be as close as you could to eye level, but you doubted that would be very sanitary on the bathroom floor, "What's wrong?"

"I just realised I let the potion shrink with me! Now it won't work! It'll only grow me back to the size of a foot, if we're lucky"

"Speaking from experience?"

"Unfortunately." he shivers, "But it's okay, we'll just have to stop off at my room afterwards to get some more. I always make extra if I can afford to"

"Well that's good. Ready to go?"

"Absolutely" he held up his arms and you scooped him up like you would a wand. You got to your feet and were about to place him in your pocket when you noticed you still had your potions essay folded up inside. Fred had helped you finish it last night, the legend. Took you until 4 am to finish writing it.

You put him in your breast pocket instead, for fear that your robes might fly around too much and he might fall out, or that someone might bump into you and squash him. The breast pocket was at least hidden and safe. Besides, there were still two layers separating him from your actual boobs.

You opened the door and peaked your head through, checking to see if anybody was there. Nobody. Brilliant. Hurrying down the cobbled hallway, you B lined to the stairs leading down to the dungeons, and hurried to the classroom door. You and Fred had a free period right now, so that would explain why it seemed you and he were the only ones not in class. Despite how thankful you were for Fred's help, you wouldn't have skipped lessons to do this, it's risky enough as it is. Fast walking now, you peeped your head into Snape's office, where beyond it lay the door to his private stash.

"He better not come, Fred, or I'll squash you"

"Don't worry, he's in his lesson! Only got one potions teacher"

You thought this over and realised that yeah, there is only one... why the fuck do they only have one teacher for each subject? Do they get breaks? That's unlikely seeing as they have to teach all four houses in all seven years over the span of only five days a week. That's mental that is. Regardless, you would have the time to ponder this later, for now you had a potion to steal. You crept into Snape's office and shut the door, pulling out your wand and enchanting "Colloportus" to lock it behind you.

Fred really knew what he was talking about, because there were indeed shelves next to the closet door. The third one up was even covered with books, and when you grabbed Fred out from your pocket and plonked him on the shelf, he pointed to the dusty copy of 'The Moral Implications of Love Potions' and you took it out to reveal a hole behind it big enough for tiny Fred, “This looks like an interesting read..." you mutter, flipping over to read the blurb. There was a mini scoff, and by mini you mean it was produced by a mini person.

"Right, well, you have fun reading that, I'll search for the potion. Be back in a second" and he was off, disappearing through the hole. You sigh, fidgeting with anxiety at possibly getting caught. Doesn't make sense though, Snape is in class, he has no reason to come in here. When do lessons end anyway? You glance around for a clock but don't find any. Serves you right for not wearing a watch... would a watch even work at Hogwarts?

You flipped open the book and began reading a random page: Dr Eglantine proposed the following moral dilemma: if two people love each other but are too afraid to admit to one another, is it wrong for one of them to drug the other with love potion? Wizarding philosophers are torn on this issue, and when intercourse is involved, the grey area becomes even larger—

There was a loud bang from outside, which made your heart drop. You scurry over to the door, pressing your ear against the cool wood, holding your breathe in hopes of hearing better. The sound of students filled your ears, but not just a few students having a free period, but a whole herd of them. That could only mean one thing: class had ended... Oh fuck!

"Fred!" you cry out in the quietest panic you can muster, scurrying over to the hole, "Snape is coming."

"Almost... there!" Fred called between grunts, emerging with the bottle. You snatched it up, preparing to despose of it into your pocket when Fred raised a valid argument, "Don't put it in there! Snape will check your pockets when he finds you here!" He began downing his second potion, growing only to the size of a regular sized hand, "Damn"

"Oh, right" you scan your body for another hiding place, then the thought came to you. You shove the vial up your shirt and into your bra.

"Great, now me!" Fred exclaims, raising his arms up.

"I can't put you in my bra! You're too big, he'll see you!" You scoop him, holding his torso like a toothbrush.

He stares up at you in stunned confusion, "Really? That was what was wrong with that plan?"

You realised you ought to have said 'no you pervert I'm not letting you touch my boobs' but now wasn't the time to curse yourself for it. Your heart was hammering with fear, inspecting your body for somewhere to stash him. The doorknob rattled, and the sickeningly familiar tone of Snape's voice cursed that it was locked. Your time was up, there was only one thing for it! You pulled away the elastic of your skirt and stuck him down there,

“WOAH—!" He yelped, hair practically standing on end.

"Just hold onto the elastic along the outside and we should be fine!" You put him onto your outer right thigh, knowing full well that a pair of shorts and a pair of underwear and a whole thigh were separate him from... that.

"Alohamora!" the door swung open just as you were putting the book back, and there stood Snape, in all his emo glory. He froze, clearly having not expected to find anyone inside. Once the shock had left his system, he straightened up and glared at you, “What exactly do you think you are doing?" his nasally voice grilled, doing nothing good for your nerves, which were in absolute tatters at the moment.

"I was looking for you, w-when someone locked me in the class" you scramble, the lie just about the worst you could come up with. You had to remind yourself that Fred was on the outside of your thigh. Considering he was in your skirts at all, that was the most innocent position he could be in. All he had to do was hold on to the elastic of your shorts and you should be fine!

"Why?" he trudged further into the classroom.

"Why was I looking for you or why did someone lock me in the class—?"

"Why were you looking for me?" His booming voice told you that you were on thin ice.

"Ah yes, well, I... I was having trouble with the essay assigned for tomorrow, and thought maybe you could help me"

Snape closed the door and came to lean on his large desk, "Do you really expect me to believe that one of my students, who has never once asked a question in six years, is now asking a question?"

You frown, so suddenly insulted that you almost forgot about Fred on your leg, "Professor Snape, I ask questions all the time"

"Oh, how unmemorable you are then" he sneers, making you fume, "Regardless, I'm going to need to search your pockets"

You sighed, "Yes, sir"

He stalked over to you, holding out a hand for your robes. You pushed the sleeves off each shoulder, removing it, and dumped it into his palm. As he began to examine it, you felt Fred's shoes scrapping against your skin. It's as though he's trying desperately to find a foothold, no doubt still exhausted from having to push the bottle. If he falls, not only will you be caught, but Fred could get seriously injured!

Again, you knew what you had to do but hesitated to do it. As subtly as you could, you extended the elastic of your skirt, took Fred out, then plonked him into your shorts. His entire body went flush against yours, no doubt the skin tight shorts were crushing him. As long as there was no more risk of him falling... Hopefully it wasn't suffocating him though.

"If it's too tight, move" you hissed, keeping your eyes trained on Snape, who unfortunately heard you.

"What did you say?"

"I said—" you took a sharp breath, feeling Fred's back sink further into the fat of your thigh as he pushed away the area of fabric suffocating him, "If it's too tight, move" you repeated loudly for the two men in the room. "The pockets get a bit stuck sometimes so you have to jostle it around a bit" you added to give fake context to an instruction that wasn't even meant for Snape.

The shadowy teacher was evidently confused, but decided to ignore your outburst. Meanwhile, you could feel Fred inching along the front of your thighs, moving closer to your core. This was fine, as you didn't exactly want him to asphyxiate in your shorts, that would be a tragic way to go. You did hope, however, that he wouldn't overshoot his target, and fall into the abyss between the crotch and pant leg. Just as you had thought it, you felt the man slip. You gasped, pressing your legs a little closer together, enough for him to reach out and grab the first piece of fabric he could get his hands on. Unfortunately for the both of you, that piece of fabric were your panties. You wondered whether he knew what he was doing, when he began to scramble onto it, lying down flat onto the crotch like a hammock. Your question was quickly answered by the sensation of his arms sticking into your folds, and the subsequent wriggling of regret.

Sucking in a deep breath, you had to grip the nearby desk with all your might to stop a loud moan escaping your lips. Regardless of how bizarre and awful this situation was, having anything rub against your clit was an arousal waiting to happen. Poor guy must have though those were your shorts he grabbed before... You were just about to dig in and help, when Snape extended your robes back to you. You'd have to walk, with mini Fred mushed into you vagina, all the way to grab it. Praying he might forgive you one day, you stepped forward, effectively compromising Fred's escape, trapping him between your knickers and crack. Talk about getting stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"Very well, I will take a look at your homework" and he rounded the desk, unfurling the essay he had taken from your pocket and sitting down in preparation to help. You swallow, approaching the table as he skimmed through it. He paused for a moment to look up, "Well, sit down" he ordered.

Staring down at the chair, you gulped. Every time you sit down during class, the skin tight shorts you wear, under your Hogwarts skirt, ride up into your ass. Having that happen right now is about as undesirable as they come, "Um, I'd rather not, if that's alright with you"

He blinked and looked back down at your work, "Well anyway, the beginning of your essay seems promising." You smiled, that was the part you wrote by yourself. Just wait until he gets to the part Fred helped you with. There were things he told you on the topic that you swore you had never heard before, you'll look like such an expert! Speaking of, the unfortunate blighter had given up on his attempts to leave, probably worried that his efforts might be thwarted again by your moving thighs. He was now using his hands and knees to keep himself pushed away from you. If you thought about it hard enough, you could convince yourself Fred was just a bumpy pad with a tuft of hair on the end... that moved.

Alright now body, I know you're an animal that listens to its instincts more than its brain, but please don't respond the same way you usually do when something— anything is pressing against you. You thought to yourself. We are not creating any new weird kinks today, thank you very much. Besides, the poor guy is going through enough as it is.

"You think Felix Felicis was created by Felix Williams... and that it contains balm, angel's trumpet, bitter root, and a single strawberry cooked under a full moon" he looked up from your work, pinning you with an expression of cold unamusement.

He must be testing you. Fred's a prankster but he isn't a dick... most of the time. He wouldn't. He couldn't! "Yes...?"

"Your Wolfsbane... does it contain any other nonsense ingredients I should know about?"

You froze, as did the guy in your pants. He must have heard, and Merlin have mercy he was going to pay for what he'd done!

This was just like that incident in fourth year all over again! You were in the showers after a quidditch match and Fred snuck in and stole your clothes and towel. When you realised you would had to run butt fucking naked all the way to your room, you were absolutely furious. Fred was lounging in the common room, along with twenty or so other people, and they all watched as you went gunning for the stairs. George felt awful, having not known his brothers prank, and offered to obliviate anyone who talked about it. It was then you realised Fred could be kind of a dick, and George was the man for you.

Fascinated by just how much Fredrick Weasley had fucked you over yet again, you decided to plop down on the chair opposite Snape. The moment you did, the skin tight shorts became skin tight. Fred's entire body went flush against yours, sending a delicious zap up your spine that attempted to summon a moan you coughed back, “Sorry, I wasn't trying to insult you with my work... I got a friend to help and it seems he was just taking the piss" Fred was moving, his chest bumping and smoothing over your clit. You had to actively try not to squeeze your thighs around him to increase the pressure.

George had bought you a dildo once as a "joke" (he just wanted to watch you wank yourself off, the kinky bugger) and you had run it between your folds, but that pailed in comparison to this. This was far better. Fred is made up of so many intricate parts, each of them squirming against you. His legs, for example, were kneading the source of your arousal. His shoes were in there now, using it as a foothold to try and push his way out. It was heavenly.

"Now I might remember you, as the girl with a poor judge of character" Snape interjected, pulling you out of your sexual haze. If the context were different, you might have gotten mad, but you couldn't bring yourself to at the moment. Not while you were getting oh so sweet revenge on a certain someone, "Well, for starters, dragon bone isn't an ingredient in any of these, so we might as well cross that off the list—" he took his red ink and began marking your paper. His voice became a distant drone in the background as you disassociated once against, focusing on how Fred had began shimmying his way to freedom. If only you could quicken his pace. If only you could rock your hips and fuck yourself against him. You weren't available to move, but he certainly was.

Leaving the one hand there on the desk, to rest your chin against, the other snuck under the table and under the hem of your skirt and shorts. Your fingers hovered above him, a little unsure what to do, until the index finger took initiative and pressed down onto his back through the pants. If he wasn't mushed against you before, he sure as hell was now. His hands slap your folds, but you could feel his head angled up for air. He should be fine.

You experiment by pushing him up. There his chin is triggering the most sensitive nerves of your clit! You roll your hips to savour it, using your thumb to squash his head down and create a more prominent friction. The round nature of his face and bumps making up his features created the most delicious rub. You had to loop your feet behind the desk's legs in order to stop your thighs from crushing him. When he slaps you for air, you reluctantly moved your thumb and pushed his body down. Now his feet were teasing your entrance with the sensation of being filled. You sat down more firmly onto your chair to shove him deeper inside of you. You pushed him up again, then down, up, down, repeating the gesture while his limbs squirmed, awakening new flesh with every swipe. Your middle finger joined the index's perch on his back to pick up the pace. You bit your lip and sucked a deep breath through your nose to push down all the noises that were bubbling to the surface. The only thing that could have moulded you any better than Fred would have been a literal mould. Even then, it wouldn't have been nearly so fun to hump.

You were now rolling him against you in deep tight circles. Your hips were swaying in time, and as much as you wanted to use your whole hand to rub him madly against you, you thought Snape might notice your entire arm thrusting under the table. Unconsciously, your thighs tighten around him, sucking him almost up into you. You lull your head back and arch into him, sighing in bliss. When Snape looked up, you snapped your head back down and froze, biting your fist in order to stop yourself whining in disapproval.

"Does that make sense?"

"Yes sir" what on earth were you agreeing to? You hadn't the foggiest.

"Then don't waste my time with useless garbage like this again. If you haven't produced a coherent, serious essay by tomorrow, I'll be deducting twenty points from your house. Now go!" He pointed to the door.

You had half a mind to snap back, but thought: to hell with him! You had things that needed your immediate attention, and no hooked nose, greasy hair, middle aged virgin was going to ruin that for you! “Very well, thank you sir" you stood up, and to your eternal disappointment, it loosened the strain of your clothes to unstick Fred from your cunt.

Exiting the class, you were devastated to find the hallway packed with students ready for their next potions lesson. The women's bathroom was just around the corner and up the stairs. All you had to do was get to it. You sped walked around the students, opting to push some aside rather than do any fancy footwork and likely squash the man inside of you. From the lack of movement, you guessed he had probably made peace with the situation. Luckily for you though, the movement of your walking kept banging him against you, and you had to stop yourself from dropping to the floor right then and there to grind him furiously against you.

When finally you had made it to the bathroom, casting "Colloportus" on the door for some privacy, you froze at the sight of someone stood inside with their back to you. You recognised those ginger locks straight away.

"George?" you called. He let go of the robe he was examining over the cubicle door and beamed, bounding up to you with all the excitement of a puppy.

"Darling! I've been looking for you everywhere, where have you been?"

What to say, what to say. You doubted rubbing your shrunk brother against my vagina in revenge would be largely acceptable, so you opted to white lie, "Oh, I needed Snape to help me with my potions essay"

George frowned, "Why'd you do that? I could have helped you. Can't imagine ol' hook nose was as fun as me"

"Well maybe if you weren't at that party last night—"

"What party?"

Judging by Fred's immediate scramble to break free, you imagined George was about to tell you something that would spell out very bad news for his twin. To stop his escape, you move a hand behind your back to fist your underwear and hoist it up, making it impossible to give way, "Fred told me you were at the Ravenclaw party last night..."

George's chocolate brown eyes widen in horror, immediately replaced by a scowl as he looked up to curse the air. Little did he know he actually should have been glancing down if he wanted to curse his brother. His squirming against you was making this entire thing leagues better, "What? Oh that prick! I was sick last night with a cold and sent him to apologise to you because I didn't want you catching it while Madam Pomfrey's sweets took effect"

Your cunt was fluttering in anticipation for what long and hard revenge you were about to take. Fred was scrambling so wildly, you couldn't wait to get down to business, "That asshat. He said you were drunk and convinced me to steal some stupid potion with him"

George's anger multiplied, "Bloody hell! I told him not to do that"

"What do you mean?" You were genuinely curious, but your body had literally no care in the world. It was hoisting your pants even higher to keep Fred glued there, wriggling your hips as your breathing became laboured.

George didn't seem to notice, "He was planning on making a thing of love potion with it. Told him it was a stupid idea and he was perfectly popular enough to get anyone he wanted without it. He's got hundreds of girls and guys in the past, I can't think of who he thought he needed to trick..." you consider it for a moment. That was a very good question, it's strange for Fred to care so much about someone... but this could be left for another time.

You hook your foot behind George's leg and brought it forward to wedge it in between yours. Without warning you hopped up and felt Fred immediately sink into your flesh. You doubled over, gripping George's shoulders, and moaning to savour the feel of being entirely and completely touched. George had to brace his hands against the door either side of your head to stop himself from falling over. In surprise rapture, he watched as you were already so unravelled. Finally, the surface you needed. Twins were supposedly two halfs of a whole, and never before had that sentiment rung so true. His leg was the missing component that pushed Fred so absolutely into you, no margin of error. All of him was rubbing against you now as you began humping without mercy.

You thrust yourself forwards and backwards, side to side, around in broad circles. Your folds accommodated him so well, stretching to make sure he always stayed between them. At times you were almost sure you could feel them curling around him, to keep him there as a permanent feature. Tempting indeed, he certainly made walking more fun, and imagine the possibilities in History of Magic. He could get you off under the table without anyone having a clue!

Fred was becoming slick with your arousal, lubricating him into slipping and sliding into usually unattainable flesh you never knew yearned for touch. And because of George's pressure under him, his hold on those neglected areas of your cunt was positively sinful. You throw your head back, your hands on George's shoulders, tugging up and down to massage yourself against Fred.

"What is that bump in your pants?" he finally questioned, having snapped out of his shock.

"Just a sex toy" you reply earnestly, making no alterations to your position.

There was a sudden sting on your clit that made you yelp and stop for a moment. Fred must have bit you... and it was incredible. You wondered whether you could get him to do it again, "It's loves being in there while I fuck myself with it. A tool for my pleasure" You were bouncing up and down like a rubber ball, poking him to react. He still wasn't doing anything to participate, but it was fine. You were doing more than enough for the both of you. All he needed to do was be there as you pounded yourself onto him. Then, your continuous lifting and applying onto him made his shoulder lodge so deep inside of you, you let out a howling moan, crushing George's lips to yours in order to muffle the sheer volume of the scream. He pulls your bottom lip into his mouth, urgently swiping his tongue against yours. You moan and put everything you have into the kiss, allowing him to dive in and taste you. George's lips began to wander, bitting, nibbling and sucking his way to your pulse. His hands came up to hastily undo your tie and shirt, pushing them aside to reveal your bare stomach. As he works your skin into his mouth, creating a glorious love bite on the swell of your neck, his palms fan out across your stomach. You take a sharp breath, as he caressed towards your bra, grinning against you when he notices it's the one he got you for Valentine's Day that unhooks at the front. Lucky coincidence, all your other ones were just dirty.

"I leave you for one night and you become a horny mess" George teases, his hands gliding down your sides to grip your hips. He nudged your legs apart, spreading you wider over your toy. Although he didn't take over the pace, he certainly sped you up. God you could have kissed him for knowing exactly how to whind up your pleasure. A shame then that his mouth was currently occupied with other things. You tangle your hands into his hair as he strokes your nipple with his tongue, pulling it into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks to suck it hard. Your head lulled back to angle yourself further into him, whimpering at how close your climax was.

Seemed Fred was just as desperate to get it over with as you were. He was now doing everything in his power to jack you off. He had somehow managed to grasp your clit between his hands, and paired with your thrusting it created a borderline unnatural amount of pleasure. You were screaming with moans. But somehow more importantly than all that, he had his leg plunged inside of you.

That was it. The idea had been toying in your mind this whole time, but now you knew you needed him inside if you. "Wait a second George" you breathed, perching yourself a little higher in order to stick a hand down your panties, pinching Fred so his arms were trapped by his sides, and sliding him, feet first, through your entrance, until nothing showed of him but his head.

Head back, mouth open in an overjoyed groan, something in you snapped. You didn't even have to thrust him in and out. He was twisting, his arms and legs were flailing in the little space available to them. The walls were hugging his every curve, likely trying to suction him to the back. It was the combination of George flicking your nipple with his tongue and Fred massaging your insides that had you finally unravelling. Hot, slick, arousal came dribbling past what little gaps Fred’s body provided, and you went limp in his brother’s arms with one final howl.

George straightened up to hold you close, stroking your hair until you were ready to stand on your own again, “Nifty toy you got there. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite so animalistic” he chuckled.

Wiping the sweat of your brow off on your robes, you tried to make yourself look presentable again, smirking up at your boyfriend as you redid the buttons of your shirt, “Yes, well, nothing beats actual sex with you. Wanna go for a round two in your room?”

He beams, “Course! Want me to wait?”

“Nah, I’ll meet you up there” you gesture him away. Normally you would ask him to stay, but you had something to deal with first.

“Alright, see you in five” all excited, he ran for the door, then turned back just as he had performed the unlocking spell to give you a quick peak on the lips, then off he went.

Rummaging around in your shorts, you sigh as you unclog your hole, the contents stringing against Fred as you lift him to eye level. Merlin he looked awful. His fiery hair was stood on end, gelled up with your cum. His white shirt was practically transparent and clung to his abs as though it have been soaked in water. His eyes were a little bloodshot probably from liquid splashing into them, and his lips were rather swollen, like they would be after making out with someone for too long or too roughly. Just generally, your essence was rolling off of him in big globs. You placed your other hand to your mouth and giggled at his appearance, but he seemed the furthest thing from amused. His arms were crossed over his chest, a highly displeased scowl etched across his face.

“Oh don’t look at me like that!” you say, “If you hadn’t planned the robbery so terribly, or lied to me on twooccasions in the 8 hours proceeding it, getting me to write a whole 4 thousand word essay on things that were complete horseshit, humiliating me on front of Snape and—“

“Alright alright—!” He had softened up a little, averting eye contact, but you didn’t care.

“No! I’m not done!” That got his attention again, “Fred, you have been a dick to me for the past six years! Sure, you’re funny and can be sweet sometimes, but most of the time you don’t know where the line is! You prank me all the time, it’s relentless! And today you bloody pushed me over the edge. I had a perfect means of getting revenge and damn it I took it.”

He shrugs, “Whatever, I guess we’re even now”

You open your mouth to continue arguing but snap it shut when you realised what he had said. That really took much less convincing than you though, probably because you were feeling a smidge guilty for going so far in the heat of anger. It’s not like he orgasmed or anything... well if he did you wouldn’t be able to tell, his trousers were drenched, “Yeah, I guess...”

You waddled to the sink, turning both faucets on for lukewarm water, plonking him in the basin to clean off the sticky residue. You then hobbled into the closest stall to grab a wad of tissue and wipe yourself clean with it. Despite how absolutely caked in the stuff Fred was, you were still drenched. You exit the stall a couple of minutes later to find him completely washed down, "Right, let's get you back to your normal size, but let's put you in my pocket this time..."

"What a shame. I had really learned to call your vag my home" the sarcasm drooled from his lips.

You scooped him up, pinning him with a warning eye, "I'll put you back in there if you're not careful."

"Sorry sorry sorry!" he back peddled, extending his arms like a man about to be hit by an unforgivable curse. You gently lay him in your pocket, and snapped your head up to find Moaning Myrtle staring at you in disbelief.

"Umm..." the ghost muttered, for once in her life (or death) at a loss for words.

"Don't tell anyone what you saw here today, Myrtle" you warned, pointing a long threatening finger at her, "Not like they'd believe you anyway"

She nodded vigorously and dove into the nearest sink.

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