#all i can offer you is a big ole shrug emoji

[omniswords]

We Were Never Different [Sylvain Jose Gautier/Dorothea Arnault]

According to the books, it took Sylvain upwards of ten proposals before Dorothea agreed to marry him.

The eleventh time, she said yes.

(happy birthday @trebuchials ! and cheers to my first?? ever???? FE3H fic! signed, the fool who hasn’t beaten Azure Moon OR Crimson Flower yet. oops.)

It’s the end of the world, and at almost thirty years old, Dorothea knows it.

Maybe she should have known it six years ago, when it actually did feel like the end of the world. When she and her professor and a handful of her old classmates seemed to stare Death itself out of existence. Twice. When she trekked through parts of the Empire and the Kingdom that she had only ever heard long-gone suitors try and fail to wax poetic about. When she… when Edelgard…

Maybe that was the closest to the end of the world. That, and the streets of Enbarr.

But as far as she’s concerned, childhoods are never as pretty as people try to describe, and all her life she has been nothing if not resilient. The Mittelfrank Opera Company would have plenty to say about that, and so would Garreg Mach Monastery. And so would her professor, if they could see her now from wherever they are.

And so would Sylvain.

Sylvain, who has made it a point, in these last six years, to offer her marriage ten times.

Sylvain, who knocked on her door tonight for what she presumed is the eleventh. Who’s sitting across from her at a dinner table in Gautier territory, and who opens his mouth to confirm it.

She’ll have to admit, he’s developed a sense of decorum and tact over the years. He’s lost the wiggle in his eyebrows in favor of a gallant kiss to the back of her hand. He doesn’t lean in her doorway, whenever he comes to her home, as though he intends to darken it with some despicable arrogance. No, there’s something noticeably different about him, something that sets him apart from other nobles—and perhaps from who he was when he tried chasing her skirt eleven years ago. There’s a sparkle in his eye that he makes no effort to hide. A softness in the cadence of his voice, the sort that betrays just how deeply they know each other. What parts of each other’s hearts they’ve touched, and cradled, and taken with then whenever they parted ways in the halls of the monastery and in Faerghus terrain.

Things like that don’t just happen to you when you inherit the title of Margrave Gautier.

“Dorothea.” By Seiros, even the way he says her name and keeps her gaze in between spoonfuls of peach sorbet holds a different kind of weight. “I meant what I said before, about… everything. I’m confident you know that much.”

“I know.” They may be in the corner of a local tavern, a place Sylvain claimed as some old stomping grounds, but she’s allowed to hold onto some of her airs. He told her once that it was one of the things he liked about her. He might have said, years ago, that her stone-cold attitude and the way she held him at arm’s length only spurred the thrill of the chase; nowadays, when he rides beside her on horseback or dares to brush her hand on a leisurely walk, something in the way he carries himself tells her she’s commanded his full respect by virtue of existing. “So did I.”

“I don’t disbelieve you,” he says; he must be leaning back in his seat because elbows on the table are unbecoming, but he inclines his head like he means to study her. “But your answer has been the same every time. And you haven’t told me no. All you’ve said is, ‘Not yet.’ So when? When will you say yes?”

She’ll credit him on two counts: that his tone his measured and far from demanding, and that his words are accurate. She never has said no to his proposals. Perhaps she’s had to stave off an onslaught of girlish butterflies, or memories of a hushed, heartfelt conversation in Garreg Mach’s reception hall. But her answer has hardly been more than a faint smile, Not yet, Sylvain, and a closed door.

“Sylvain,” she says almost in the way that she might issue a challenge; an elbow on the table means little to her when her chin rests so delicately against her knuckles. “Why do you think I haven’t agreed to marry you yet?”

He pauses. And then he chuckles. “That’s a loaded question with a lot of answers, coming from you,” he admits. “Maybe you’ve just been waiting to see if I’ve got all the flirting out of my system. I suppose any woman who knew my… track record… would wait for that.”

To her surprise, Dorothea can’t think of any other woman besides herself these days. She’s the only one he’s so much as mentioned in the time they’ve spent together—not counting Ingrid, who’s been steadfastly overseeing Galatea territory on her own, or Annette, who according to him now happily goes by “the Duchess of Fraldarius.” But she is the only one he’s invited to dinner. Written to regularly. Secured land for in Gautier territory, in her name, and given her time and space to tend. All without need for thanks. All without asking for repayment besides a smile and a reply and perhaps, if he’s in good spirits, a song.

That’s the pleasant thing about Sylvain. He’s almost always in good spirits.

“That may be true,” she concedes as they leave their meal behind and he helps her into her cape, “but I have other reasons.”

“And you’re going to make me guess them all, huh?”

“No,” Dorothea says, and when he takes her by the hand and leads her into the cold, she doesn’t quite let go of him. “I trust you enough to tell you.”

It’s a long walk back to her home, where Sylvain’s horse is graciously being fed and watered, but neither of them minds the trip. In fact, she’d like to think they both quietly relish it, especially in the dark, away from the prying eyes of nobility. “So,” he says. “Your reasons?”

Dorothea draws her hood, and even afterwards her hand still looks for his. It feels so distant, gloved all the time. Perhaps once they reach her house he’ll allow her just a few forbidden seconds to peel them away, to feel out the lines in his palms and the calluses from all that lance work. “Well,” she begins with a deep breath and a vague sweep of her arm. “I think the first reason is obvious. You’ve had to help repair so much in the Kingdom, haven’t you? Not to mention all the responsibilities of being a margrave.”

“I can’t tell if you’re saying it like that because you’re respecting me or because you’re mocking me,” he shoots back, like the hard-to-get quips of old times, but the laugh in his voice, weak though it is, makes itself known well enough. “It’s been years since I’ve inherited that title. It’s not exactly new, and neither are the responsibilities of being a noble. No matter how much of a buffer we’re supposed to be for the north.” He shrugs. “You learn a lot in five years. And then six more.”

Whatever he’s learned, it sounds as though he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. “You’ve done good things in those years,” she murmurs. “Maybe I wanted you to see that I see those good things, instead of… what you’ve always thought women saw in you.”

“You can say it,” Sylvain mumbles. “Not talking about my Crest doesn’t make it not exist anymore.”

“Talking about it gives it weight. Relevance.” Dorothea spares him a glance, gestures between them with her free hand. “Whatever this is between us has nothing to do with it, or nobility, or lofty… whatever you want to call it. It never has. We are who we are—together—because of what we’ve done together. What we’ve seen. Sylvain, I’ve told you things, written things, that I never thought I would tell anyone, and your Crest wasn’t even on the list of things I was thinking about when I confessed them.”

“So what was?”

She stops, muscles tense, heart lodged in her throat. All the old symptoms of stage fright with none of the excitement. “How… scared I was. That once you heard them, or read them, you’d… have nothing to do with me anymore.”

In the silence, broken only by their footsteps, Sylvain squeezes her hand. Neither of them has to say, like everyone else. Neither of them has to give any more words to ghosts left over, or walls that haven’t quite crumbled.

“Maybe I was testing you, after all” she admits; the only evidence of her words are the puff of air in the cold. “How long you’d bother waiting for me. If you really did still think there was more to me than my looks or my voice, or…” She shakes her head, locks of hair tickling her cheeks under her hood. “If, at the end of the world, if… you would still want someone like me around. Almost-grandma and all.”

Dorothea’s home is in sight just uphill—the house the men of Gautier built, the stable that shelters Sylvain’s horse—and quite frankly, she can’t tell if it’s relief or regret settling stone-heavy in the pit of her heart. She’s yanked back before she can take a step further, and when she turns, Sylvain is simply standing there, watching her, making her stomach twist all over again. “Do you want to know?” he says quietly. He’s still holding onto her. “What it is I don’t want?”

She nods, but not after a pause heavy with pros and cons. “Yeah. If you trust me enough to tell me.”

Sylvain tugs her close, firm but not forceful, so that she could nearly swallow his words. So that he could feel all almost-thirty years of her. “I don’t want to wait anymore,” he confesses, his voice a low rumble. “I don’t want to not take care of you anymore.”

It takes a while for her next words to come out. “Sylvain,” she murmurs, half-shivering. “I think all you’ve ever done is take care of me.”

He squeezes her wrists, and he reaches for her face, and he slants his mouth against hers like he doesn’t want to wait for that anymore, either. It’s not the first time they’ve kissed, for whatever impropriety that holds. They’ve stolen plenty in the monastery, when she teased him for his skilled tongue and eager hands and other body parts rising to the occasion, however ready or not she was to indulge them. And however many times the world has almost ended for them both, he’s kissed her just before then, too, as though she was the last thing he ever wanted to remember about his life before he left it behind. Pressure, urgency—there is none of that here. There’s only intimacy, the last dregs of patience, and, if she leans enough into his touch, a promise.

“Dorothea—Arnault—” He’s never panted her name against her jaw before, never pressed his forehead to hers before. She thinks she could get used to both. “Will you grow old with me?”

Dorothea thinks, somewhere between the eleventh question and the first yes and slipping on the ring Sylvain’s been carrying on him for half a decade, that impropriety means next to nothing when she could take him inside and get used to more of him all over again.

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #sylvain x dorothea #dorovain #sylvain jose gautier #sylvain gautier #dorothea arnault #all i can offer you is a big ole shrug emoji #also for explanation: i paired them together in verdant wind lmfao

[demonologist-in-denim]

Humming to himself, Crowley dusted the rich dark cocoa powder into the soft white flour, and reached for his trusty wooden spoon. Blending ingredients in a mixer tended to create a smoother batter, but Crowley enjoyed the feel of the spoon in his hand, the sound it made scraping the bottom of the bowl, the hands-on experience of turning flour and sugar and eggs into cake.

When the dry ingredients were properly combined, he made a well in the center and carefully poured in the buttermilk, eggs, butter and vanilla. Instead of the usual red food coloring, Crowley added in fresh beet puree – just enough to give the cake a velvety ruby hue. The rich cocoa would cover the hint of earth with a delicate chocolate flavor. The mixture was then evening distributed between three pans and scooched into the oven.

While the cakes baked, he set to work on the frosting. The softened cream cheese and unsalted butter whipped together beautifully. He settled on using far less powdered sugar than the recipe called for, wanting the tangy sweetness of the cream cheese to accent the cake all on its own.

“Would have asked about any preferences in decoration,” Crowley muttered to himself as he applied the crumb coating to the cake, once it was done baking and properly cooled, “but that would have tipped my hand.” Simple yet elegant seemed appropriate. After applying a thick final layer of cream cheese frosting, Crowley piped fluffy buttercream swirls along the rim of the red velvet cake. A soft pile of crumbled extra cake crowned the top, and he tossed more along the side to create a dusting effect.

There was nothing left now except to take the photo.

Which, as fate would have it, turned out to be the difficult part.

He positioned the cake on the kitchen table, and snapped a few photos. Crowley hmmmed to himself.  It wasn’t quite up to his standard of food porn. Perhaps he’d take a few more, just to be on the safe side. Until one was suitably flattering. He was still adjusting the cake, playing with the proper angle and lighting for the perfect shot, when Sam and Dean strolled into the kitchen.

For a moment, they lingered at a respectful distance. But Crowley could sense their curiosity like a gathering storm of rose petals, soft yet burdensome.

“Can I help you two with something?”

Disbelief and delight were tugging a one-sided smile out of Sam. “Is – is that for Valentine’s Day?”

Valentine’s Day? Crowley narrowed his eyes at the elegant dessert. Bloody hell, the cake was red and white, wasn’t it? He hadn’t considered that when a bit of carefully applied questioning had disclosed the recipient’s cake preferences.

Crowley mulled the situation over. He couldn’t answer in the affirmative. That would mean he had intentionally crafted the cake as a celebration of gushy hearts and the sweet delirium of – internally, Crowley cringed – love. But he also couldn’t reply with a defensive and definitive “no”. That would only open him up to further, unwelcome inquiry.

He settled for the more characteristically dismissive third option.

“It’s Valentine’s Day?” Crowley steadfastly went back to attempting to capture the perfect photo with his phone. “I don’t bother myself keeping track of that sort of thing.”

Dean eyed the demon knowingly. “Yeah, well, our Netflix recommendations would say otherwise.”

Crowley glowered at the hunter.

“Whatever the occasion,” Sam offered up as his brother idled over to the cake, “that’s professional-grade baking. You’ve got a real talent. The frosting, the whole look? Seriously, I’m impressed.”

The arrow of this flannelled cupid hit its mark. Crowley felt a slight blush of pleasure, despite himself. Casual, unsolicited praise? From Sam Winchester? He seriously contemplated the possibility that Sam had been exposed to some sort of low-grade, poorly-concocted love spell that had bloomed into amiability, or maybe it had been released as a pink mist in the bunker’s common room, and Crowley had unknowingly avoided the worst of it. That seemed like the sort of malarkey that would happen around here on what, apparently, was Valentine’s Day.

Because Crowley found himself saying, “Thank you, Sam,” with actual sincerity. Moments such as these reminded Crowley that he was rather fond of these two boys, after all.

That was the moment Dean ran his finger along the edge of the cake, carrying off a large dollop of frosting from one side. The whole cake just looked so enticing! Dean was more of a pie man himself, but Crowley’s culinary expertise had the tendency to tempt him in surprising ways.

He was halfway to lifting the frosting-festooned finger to his mouth when he caught sight of the expression on Crowley’s face. Sam’s own face was a rotting lemon. Dean’s hand stilled, mouth still open.

“Um,” he muttered.

Dean looked at the offending finger, uncertain of what to do next. He started to put the frosting back where it belonged, thought better of it, looked for a napkin, and reluctantly settled for ashamedly completing the crime by depositing the frosting in his mouth.

Which was a mistake. Because now he knew the cake was friggin’ delicious, and Dean seriously wondered if maybe Crowley could manage his little photo shoot even if there was a slice of the cake missing.

As if he could read his brother’s mind, Sam shook his head in the most supreme disappointment. “Dean.”

“What?! Sorry!”

Reminding himself that murdering one Winchester brother would only end with him being ganked by the other one – though there were certainly times it seemed worth it – Crowley took a deep inhalation, and let it go. Cakes were ultimately meant to be eaten, even if it was by inconsiderate louts and lumberjacks.

“I’ll accept your apology, if you cut everyone else a slice before digging in yourself. I’m sure one of the photos I took before your little indiscretion will suffice.”

“Alright! Cake!” Dean cheered, while Sam just closed his eyes.

Crowley thumbed through the multitude of pictures he’d taken, and settled on the most appealing of the lot. Then he opened up his Bumblr app, and made a new post:

@petrichoravellichor – in honor of your birthday today. Heard from a mutual that you have a particular fondness for red velvet cake. Hope it’s to your liking. – C

He sent the message and image off with a satisfied smile, then set about getting plates and forks, as this cake was obviously not going to survive the interest of the Winchester brothers much longer.

As Crowley was pulling plates out of the cupboard and Dean was cutting into the cake, Castiel wandered into the kitchen, attention entirely given over to his phone. The angel had graduated from texting and emojis to social media and memes, and sometimes he could be found scrolling through Twitter and Instagram with a rapt fascination that would out-fixate even the most plugged-in FOMO-obsessed teenager. There was a chiming sound as he entered the kitchen, as notification of a new post.

“Dude,” Dean was grinning from ear to ear, “Crowley made cake!” He pointed with delight at the dessert.

Cas looked up from his phone, saw the cake, and halted in the middle of the kitchen. He narrowed his eyes, examining the red velvet cake on the table in front of him. Then he looked back down at his phone in consternation. Cas looked at the cake again. Looked back at his phone, and then slowly, he looked at Crowley.

The demon looked from the angel to the cake, his eyes increasing in size as realization dawned.

“Is that – ?”

“Don’t you say one bloody word, angel!” Crowley blustered, a rush of red to his face further colored by the mortification of such abject exposure. “Not one word!”

And before anyone could say anything else, Crowley shoveled a huge slice of not-at-all birthday cake onto a plate, shoved it into Cas’ hand, and quickly excused himself from the kitchen.

“What,” Sam wondered to the startled room, “was that all about?”

Cas continued to stand in the middle of the room, cake in one hand and phone in the other, attempting to come to terms with having inadvertently discovered a fandom mutual was also a real-life friend, and the one he would have least expected. Unsettled, he took comfort in the certainty their shared mutual would appreciate the well wishes on their birthday.

Dean shrugged, merrily flipped the serving knife in his hand, then waved the tip at his brother. “That’s Crowley for you,” he observed, good mood undeterred. “Dude would cut out his own heart and blend it to make red cake batter before admitting to it, but deep down, he’s just a big ol’ teddy bear who wuvs hugs. Speaking of which – you see that giant pink moose Eileen sent you? Friggin’ adorable.”

Dean proceeded to cut a huge slice for himself, leaving a worried looking Sam staring down at the blood-red cake. Then the hunter stepped around a disconcerted Castiel, patting the angel on the shoulder, and strolled out of the kitchen.

***

Happy birthday, Petra! I’m sure you’re tired of your birthday comingling with Valentine’s Day, but when you said your cake preference was red velvet cake, what was I to do? ;)

If you’re wondering exactly why – or even how – Crowley became a member of the in-world spn fandom, you can find out here. This fic will be posted on AO3 in my Tumblr Ficlets after posting on Tumblr.

Image sources here: X

#crowley #spn ficlet #spn fandom #spn crack #spn fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #one of the boys #fandom life #happy birthday #to you! #this was so much fun to write #i *may* have passed along to Crowley #your cake preference #hope you have a great day!

[illfoandillfie]

The Dinner Party

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader + Rami Malek, Lucy Boynton, Joe Mazzello, Gwilym Lee 

Summery: Ben finds out about one of your fantasies and offers to help make it a reality.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ !!! it’s a big ol’ gang bang folks! unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, sensory deprivation (blindfolds), gags, restraints, choking, slapping, biting, spanking, oral (f and m receiving), a*al, orgasm denial, overstimulation/forced orgasm, nipple play, fingering, degradation, sexual objectification, handjobs, i think thats everything oh god i dont know theres a lot

Words: 11,538 (jesus)

A/N: I am so sorry I made you wait so long for this one - the last couple of months have been fucking whack as heck. Anyway, I hope she was worth waiting for! I’m gonna go have 12 cold showers in a row and scream for a while.

(its so fucking hard to find photos of all of them together jesus christ)

Taglist:  @idontbelievethiss @somekindof-cheese @dtfrogertaylor   @ezmina98  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks 

“So, uhh, that fantasy you sent me the other night,” Ben ran his fingers lightly up and down your arm, “You really got off to that?”   You could feel the sweat caught between your back and his chest, skin sticking together where you leaned against him. His hand was heavy on your stomach, moving with you as you wiggled around, trying to decrease the sticky discomfort.   “Well, yeah, otherwise I wouldn’t have sent it. Was it too much?”   It was something you did when you were away from each other. When you’d been apart for too long and you were yearning for each other's touch. You’d message each other with what you’d thought about while masturbating. Like a lot of the little traditions and patterns you and Ben developed, it had started as a joke. But now it felt weird to not do it. Sometimes it was links to porn videos or erotic stories found online. Sometimes it was reminiscences about previous nights together. And sometimes it was just one word. You.    “No, it was pretty hot actually.”   This time the distance had been caused by Ben’s filming schedule taking him overseas for three whole months. It was the longest you’d been separated in a while, and your game had turned into a bit of a competition. Trying to one up each other with wilder fantasies. You’d sent the last one, drawing on something you’d thought about a lot but never really divulged to anyone before in order to claim victory. The moment you’d hit send you’d worried it was too much. Ben knew you had a thing for exhibitionism and for being treated like an object, happy to help you indulge in them from time to time, but you’d never really exposed how deep they went. His response amounted to an oh my god and a couple of flushed face emojis. No come back, no one upping. Just three words and two little symbols. You hoped it was because he had nothing hotter to counter with and not because you’d freaked him out too much.  

Three days later he was back home, hurriedly removing your shirt within minutes of walking through the door. The sex was neither sweet nor soft, though the way Ben sat up and pulled you against him afterwards, kissing your temple in the process, was both.    “Glad you think so. It’s one I’ve thought about a lot.”   “And you’ve never mentioned it before why?”   “I don’t know, not every guy would be cool hearing about how his girlfriend dreams of being used by a bunch of strangers.”   “Okay, yeah, spose that’s fair.” He was quiet for a moment, absentmindedly stroking your skin with feather light touches, “But if you got the chance, you’d really want to do something like that?”   “I think so, yeah. Maybe not actually with strangers. Don’t think I’d feel comfortable enough to get into it if I didn’t know and trust everyone there. But in theory, yes.”   “What if... what if I could arrange for something like it to happen?”   “What?” You sat up straight and turned to face him, convinced you’d misheard him.   “If I found some people you were comfortable with who... wanted to help make this a reality would you want to do it?”   “You’re taking the piss, right?”    “I swear I’m being serious. If you wanted to actually do something like that, I’d be into it. I’d help set it up.”   “Are you feeling okay?” you pressed the back of your hand to Ben’s forehead like you were checking his temperature but he just laughed, grabbing you by the wrist so he could bring your hand to his lips.    “I feel fine, babe.” His smile hit you like a ton of bricks. Fuck you’d missed that smile.   “Can’t blame a girl for checking,”   “Look, what you described was incredibly hot and the idea of watching you be used like that...” he trailed off but you didn’t need him to say anything else, his rapidly hardening cock was proof enough. You repositioned yourself on your hands and knees, taking his cock in one hand, “You wanna watch me, blindfolded and restrained, being fucked until im crying? Wanna see me helpless and desperate and used by a whole group of people?” Your strokes along his shaft were interrupted as Ben wrapped his hand around your throat.   “I really do,” he growled as he pushed you back onto your knees, “but I think I need to fuck you again, make sure you remember who really owns your cunt.”  

Ben didn’t mention it again that week, though he barely let you out of his reach. He always got extra clingy and cuddly after you’d been reunited, surprising you with soft deep kisses and tight hugs at random. Always finding some reason to touch you, a hand on your back while you were standing at the stove, brushing fingers as you slipped past each other in the corridor, clutching your waist as he pulled you onto his lap while you played video games together. You figured he’d forgotten about your conversation now that the immediate heat and need for each other had been replaced with a softer desire to just be close. Not that you minded. You were happy to let that fantasy remain a fantasy, and if you were honest you hadn’t fully believed Ben when he suggested making it happen for real. Until he brought it up about a week and a half after his return.  

You were watching TV, resting your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around you, when he spoke.   “So I got a call from Lucy today, turns out in a couple weeks time the whole band will be in London. We’re planning on meeting up for a few drinks, something like that.”   “Oh that’s so great Ben,” you said, pulling your eyes from the ad for bathroom cleaner you’d been mindlessly staring at and looking up at him, “Be nice to see everyone again, all at once.”   “Yeah. Actually, I thought I might suggest they all come over here for dinner one night.”   “That’s a wonderful idea.”   “And, uh, if you were still interested, we could maybe give them all a chance to fuck you.”   You choked, an exclamation of surprise catching in your throat.   “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” Ben said, almost laughing as he hurried to get you a glass of water. You glared at him through watery eyes as your coughing fit subsided, gulping down the water as soon as he’d handed it over.   “What the fuck?” you rasped out once you were back in control of your voice.   “I didn’t think you were going to choke. Just thought it’d surprise you. You alright?”   “Yeah, fine. But what the fuck?” You grabbed the remote to mute the TV, a signal that you wanted Ben to take this conversation seriously.    “It was just a suggestion,” he said with a half shrug, “You said you’d be interested in doing it.”   “I am, I just.... They’re your friends Ben, wouldn’t it be kinda weird?”   He shrugged again, “Maybe at first. But you said you’d be more comfortable if you knew the people involved. Well, you know them. And I trust them. It’s worth thinking about at least.”   You paused, chewing your lip as you took in what he was saying properly, the original shock having passed. It did kind of make sense.   “Would… would they be into it?” you said slowly.   “I mean, I’d have to talk to them. But, yeah, I think so.” he shrugged slightly.   “And you’d be okay with it?”   “Yes,” he answered matter-of-factly.   “Really? Ben it’s one thing to think about it while you get off or talk about in the abstract. It’s a whole other thing to actually watch your girlfriend having sex with other people, especially your friends.” you shifted in your seat, moving to kneel beside him and reaching out to stroke his cheek, “I don’t want you to do something you’re not fully comfortable with just to try and make me happy. It was my fantasy to begin with and I am totally okay with leaving it like that. Really think about this before you say anything else.”   He reached up, taking your hand in his and tracing lines over the back of your fingers, “But I have thought about it. A lot. Kind of non-stop actually. And I want to do it, if you do.”   “Really?”   “Yes. Look, it’s not like there’s gonna be feelings involved. This isn’t making love on a bed of roses type stuff. I’m not gonna be watching you have a romantic night with anyone. I’m gonna watch you being treated like a living sex toy by multiple people. Probably join in a bit too. And you’re not the only one who can set boundaries. If there’s anything I don’t feel comfortable seeing happen I’ll let everyone know.”   You opened your mouth to speak but Ben cut you off.   “If you ask me ‘really?’ one more time,” he laughed, pulling you off your knees and onto his lap, “Y/N, I promise you I am more than okay with this. It might have been your fantasy but it was my suggestion to actually do it. If it was strangers involved it’d be different. But the guys? None of them are going to hurt you, they’ll all respect whatever rules we put in place, and they’ll make sure it’s fun.”   Your eyes roamed over Ben’s face, looking for any sign of discomfort or unease but all you saw was a plea for trust.   “Okay. Talk to them, see how they all feel about it. But if anyone isn’t into it, the dinner stays as just a dinner. Deal?”   “Deal.” He rested his forehead against yours, “I love you.”   You hummed, kissing him softly.    “Love you too, Benny.”  

Over the next week Ben talked to everyone individually, gauging their interest in the dinner party and any extra activities that may involve. Some were a little more hesitant than others but by the end of the week everyone was a hard yes. It made your stomach tighten every time you thought about it, anticipation and excitement and nerves building as you counted down the days. You and Ben worked out the rules, where lines would be drawn and where boundaries would lie to ensure the night was safe and fun for everyone involved. You collected supplies, discussed and re-discussed how everything would work as well as planning the actual dinner party aspect – food and drink and music. As the night got closer you found yourself more and more aroused, constantly wet, unable to think about anything else for too long. Ben for his part seemed just as affected by it as you were and you found yourselves naked together much more frequently than you’d expected to. Not once was it rough though. It was like the two of you were saving all your energy for the dinner party, spending the hours in bed having lazy, gentle sex, soft kisses and gasped names and whispered ‘I love you’s. By the time the actual night rolled around you were burning for something harder and faster, looking forward to being used and bruised.   

Half an hour before everyone turned up you started to get ready. You’d been wearing your plug all day, at Ben’s suggestion, but it still made you shiver when you caught a glimpse of it as you were getting dressed, the sparkly jewel catching the light as you checked your reflection. The lingerie you’d picked out left very little to the imagination, a crotchless thong and matching sheer bra, the garter belt and stockings the most modest part of the outfit. You fixed your makeup, adding extra mascara and reapplying your lipstick knowing it would just end up smudged.   

“They’ll be here in ten babe, you ready?” Ben asked as he knocked on the bedroom door. You took a deep breath, looking over yourself one last time before you left the room. The soft ‘wow’ Ben gave you made you giggle as he led you through your unit to the mixed living/dining room. You’d rearranged the furniture earlier, shifting the coffee table over to the wall which left space for you to kneel in front of anyone on the couch. The dinner table was already laid out for everyone, except you of course, a tray of champagne glasses waiting to be offered around. You headed towards the coffee table, running your hand along it as you checked all the toys were there. Some of them were things you’d used before, some were newly bought specifically for tonight. Each had been carefully considered between you and Ben, only those you were both completely comfortable with being put out.   

“Okay, let’s do this,” you said as you headed to your position in the middle of the room.    Ben grabbed the spreader bar off the coffee table, attaching the cuffs to your ankles, forcing you to stand with legs wide open. The butterflies in your stomach went wild, everything suddenly feeling more real.   “You all good?” Ben asked as he stood back up.   “I’m wonderful. You?”   “Brilliant.” He flashed you a reassuring smile and pecked you on the lips before turning to pick up the ball gag and press it into your mouth. Your lips stretched around it as he adjusted the fastening at the back of your head. You nodded to show you were comfortable and he turned once more, reaching for the black bandana that was going to be your blindfold for the night. You wanted to touch yourself, relieve some of the pressure that had been building all day but Ben grabbed your hands, pulling them in front of you, palms up. You heard him walk away and then come back with the tray of drinks, placing it carefully on your upturned hands.    “Okay, all set. I’m gonna go check the dinner but everyone should start arriving soon. See you afterwards.”    You hummed your agreement as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and pressed a kiss to your forehead. His touch left you but he was still close by. You felt him lean into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he growled a final warning in the voice he reserved for dominating you.   “Don’t drop the drinks, slut.”  

You were left in almost silence. Your unit wasn’t huge but the kitchen was far enough away that the noise was muffled. Or maybe you were just so aware of how much being left alone in such a vulnerable position turned you on, that outside noise just wasn’t getting through as easily. It was just you and your pounding heart and your steadily growing arousal. Nothing to do but wait and hope your arms didn’t give out under the tray of glasses. You had no idea how long it had been. You’d had about ten minutes when you’d started being set up, surely that time would have passed by now. Saliva was beginning to dribble under the gag and over your lips, trickling slowly down your chin to drip onto your chest. You heard Ben come back into the room, heading towards the speakers he’d set up and beginning to play the mix he’d created, music turned down low so it filled the background without distracting. Still you waited, trying to focus on keeping the tray of drinks balanced. Then suddenly, the buzzer, shocking you slightly and making your heart race. Ben answered, giving whoever it was access to the building and moments later you heard talking at the door, listening intently for who had arrived.   “Ben!”   “Lucy, looking lovely as always.” A pause, “Rami, great to see you buddy. Head on in, grab a drink and have a look. No touching yet though, we’ve got some rules to go through once everyone’s here.”    You heard footsteps, a pair of heels clicking over the floor and the duller noise of someone in flat shoes, getting closer. A girly giggle as two drinks were removed from your tray. You prayed it wasn’t going to change the balance and tip everything over. They were both quiet for a moment. You could feel their eyes on you, looking you up and down.   “You know I half thought Ben was joking,” Rami said quietly making Lucy laugh.   “Glad he wasn’t.” She said and you heard her heels again as she began walking around you slowly, taking in every inch of your helpless form, “She’s very pretty. Always thought Ben lucked out with her.”   “Alright, Luce, keep it in your pants,”   “Can’t help it. You know I can’t resist a helpless, restrained toy. And you have to admit she looks like she’ll be fun.”   “She definitely does. Almost can’t believe it’s Y/N. She always seemed so sweet and not one for this sort of thing.”   “Are you kidding? I knew she’d be into some kinky stuff the first time Ben introduced her to us.”   “What? No way,”   “Well okay, maybe not the instant I met her. You remember when we were at the restaurant with them, I went to the bathroom with her so I could chat to her, woman to woman, and I caught a glimpse of her wrist. There was a very clear mark that she was trying to hide, looked like it came from too tight handcuffs.”   You felt your cheeks grow warm at the memory. God, if you’d known then that Lucy had worked out what you and Ben had got up to that morning, you would have died from embarrassment. But now all it did was turn you on more, heat pooling in your stomach.   “God, see that?” Lucy suddenly exclaimed   “See what?”   “Right there, on the inside of her thigh,”   “Oh my god, you’re right, she’s dripping.”   The warmth of the oven spread through every room but you couldn’t suppress a shiver running down your spine as they both laughed, continuing to talk about you as if you weren’t there. You heard Ben walk back through the room as the buzzer rang a second time. The door opened and you said a silent thank you that Joe and Gwilym had arrived together, your arms already sore from holding them still for so long. Ben greeted them and told them the same thing he’d told Rami and Lucy – grab a drink, have a look, don’t touch. You were briefly forgotten as the two newcomers entered the room, everyone more focused on greeting each other until Joe asked where they’d got their champagne from.   “She’s got them.”   “Woah,”   “Right?”   “Is that really Y/N?”   “Go on, have a closer look. She’s absolutely loving this.”   “What d’you mean?”   “She’s wearing crotchless panties and you can see she’s completely soaked.”   “My god,”   Your tray lightened again as another two drinks were removed from it.   “Where’d Ben go?”  “He said something about giving us a chance to have a look around. I assume he meant her.”   “Hope he comes back soon, I’m itching to touch her.”   “Jeez Luce, didn’t realise you’d be so into it.”   “Well excuse me for getting into the spirit of it all.”  

They kept talking, the conversation a mix of catching up and comments about you. When Ben came back, his footsteps audible beneath the chatter, he was met by dozens of questions though he wouldn’t answer anything about you straight away. Eventually he took the last glass, leaving you to hold the empty tray despite the ache in your arms, and tapped it with his fingernail to get everyone’s attention.   “Sorry, don’t want to interrupt for too long” he said as everyone quieted down, “I just need your attention for a moment. There’s a few rules we need to cover before the fun can really start." He paused and you felt the energy of the room change, an electric current running through everyone as they focused on you and Ben.    “Firstly, just to be clear, this has all been set up with Y/N’s consent. Everyone has agreed to participate but of course you aren’t obligated to, and if anything that happens makes you uncomfortable, please talk to me about it.”   There was a brief murmur while Ben paused but once he started speaking again it stopped.   “Y/N and I can stop the scene at any time. Our safe word is red but obviously it may not be possible for Y/N to speak throughout the night so she also has a safe signal, three slaps against something. It could be the floor or a wall or her own thigh or whatever, but three slaps or the word red means everything stops instantly. There shouldn’t be any need for us to use them though, if everyone follows the rules, which are, one: you can touch or fuck Y/N just about however you want, as long as there is no anal play. You may have noticed she’s wearing a plug tonight but her arse is off limits to anyone who isn’t me.”   You whimpered softly behind the gag but Ben ignored you.   “Two: For the boys specifically I guess, you are not allowed to finish in her cunt, but down her throat or over any other part of her is fine. Three: We expect some bruises and marks, especially if you choose to use some of the toys provided,” he gestured towards the coffee table, “but please nothing that will leave permanent scars, no burns or blood. Four: Degrading names are fine but stick with things like slut and whore and bitch, nothing too personal. And finally, on a slightly different though no less serious note, five: no forehead kisses or anything that has a romantic connotation. That one is less for her sake than mine. Everyone understand?”   There was a chorus of yes’s in response before Ben spoke again.   “Good. We trust you, it’s why we were comfortable setting this up and inviting all of you, but my main concern is keeping this fun and safe for everyone, especially for Y/N.”   If it weren’t for the restraints and the desire to be good that had practically taken over your brain, you could have melted at the way he said your name. It carried the same weight as the words good girl or the ‘my’ in my slut. But before you had a chance to really appreciate it he’d moved on.   “I promise, this is the last thing I’m gonna say. Tonight this is not the Y/N you all know. This is a toy who happens to look like her. She is an object, a breathing blow up doll, here for your entertainment, for you to talk about or talk to or to use however entertains you most. Her pleasure is not the priority. Now have fun.”  

Everyone was still for a moment, not quite knowing how to start but then Lucy was coming towards you, the clacking of her heels almost ominous.   “Can we get rid of the tray now? Maybe the blindfold too?” She asked. The general chatter started up again behind her but you focused on Lucy’s voice.    “Sure thing,” Ben sounded more amused than anything, “You wanna leave her arms out or put them behind her back?” Ben took the tray and you let your arms drop, heavy with the strain of holding them up, a slight ache already in your shoulders.   “Restrained I think”   “Oi, Gwil, chuck us those handcuffs will you?” He called across the room before he turned back to Lucy, “I’ll give you the keys, Luce, let you decide how long she stays like that.”   “Ben, you’ve just made my day,”   They were both laughing as you felt your blindfold being tugged off and you blinked as your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.   “Much better,” Lucy teased, standing right in front of you, her voice low and pouty, “now we can see those pretty eyes.”   A familiar hand gripped your wrist, pulling it behind your back, followed quickly by the other one as Gwilym joined Ben behind you and handed over the cuffs, the fluffy black cover in place to make it easier on your wrists. Lucy dragged her hand down the side of your face, distracting you from the two boys behind you.   “Look at you, all dolled up for us. Don’t quite know where to start.” Her hand trailed lower, sliding along your jaw and down onto your neck. Your heart raced as the handcuffs clicked into place and Lucy opened her hand as if to choke you. Instead she lightly ran her thumb and fingers down the column of your throat, laying her hand flat once she reached your sternum. You jolted as Gwilym’s hands landed on your arse, grabbing you firmly and almost sending you toppling forward. Lucy continued to trail her hands down your body, squeezing your breasts and teasing your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. You wanted to beg for more, for them to stop teasing you, but the gag prevented you. All you managed to do was let more saliva drip onto your chest.   “She’s got a nice arse, can see why you want to keep it to yourself,”   Ben laughed, “Can’t expect me to share everything mate.”    “Nice tits too,” Lucy said before she reared a hand back and brought it forward to slap one of them. You whined behind the gag, and Lucy’s face lit up.   “Let’s hear that again.” Her hand rose up into the air as Ben grabbed your arms, holding you still as she brought it down on your other breast. You whined again, partly because of the slap and partly because of the way Gwilym’s fingers were sliding along your cunt. Every noise you made only served to cover you in more of your own spit.   “You were right about how wet she is Lucy.”   “Why don’t you bend her over and fuck her,” Ben said as he let go of your arms, “that’s what she’s here for and I can promise her cunt is just as good as her arse.” He gave you a final tap on the hip as he walked off, winking at you from over Lucy’s shoulder before joining Joe and Rami in their conversation.  

The next thing you felt was Gwilym’s hand on your back pushing you to bend at the waist as he grabbed your bound arms where Ben had just let go. You looked up at Lucy as best you could, eyes wide at the sound of Gwilym’s zip being pulled down and the shuffle of his clothing. This was it. This was what you’d been secretly dreaming about for years, or close enough anyway. Lucy bent down slightly, bringing her face to your level as your hip was grasped hard by the man behind you.   “She’s gagging for it Gwil, drooling everywhere.”   That was the only encouragement Gwilym needed before he was sliding into you through the opening in your underwear, not giving you any time to adjust before he was fucking you hard and fast. The plug in your arse increased the fullness and tightness you felt and you squeezed your eyes shut as his hips snapped against you repeatedly. When you opened them Lucy was gone. Disappointment washed over you, compounded by the fact that Gwil was doing nothing to intentionally push you into an orgasm. His thrusts were forceful and made you whine around the gag but he wasn’t angled the right way to hit your g-spot and he refused to touch your clit.   “Slow down for a minute would you Gwil, wanna get that gag off her.” Lucy was back, pulling Rami along by the hand. Gwilym adjusted his pace, slowing enough for Lucy to remove the ballgag from your mouth, a long string of spit dripping from your lips as it was thrown to the side.    You gasped out, “thank you,” as Lucy ran her thumb over your chin, pushing the drool back up to your mouth.  “Liked it better when you couldn’t talk. Rami, sweetie, why don’t you put her mouth to good use.”  You whimpered as Rami released his cock and Lucy wrapped her hand around it, pumping a few times before she threaded her fingers through your hair to hold your head still.   “Good girl, keep that mouth open nice and wide for us,” she cooed as Rami eased himself inside.   He must have given Gwil some kind of signal that you’d missed, too focused on Lucy’s voice, because both of them began thrusting into you at the same time. This time Gwilym started slower, matching Rami’s pace as he worked himself down your throat, gradually speeding up again. Every noise you made in reaction to how Gwilym was fucking you was lost in a wet gag as your throat was used. Complete contrast to the slapping noises of Gwil’s hips against you and the grunts from both men. You knew they were both going to cum and that, at the rate you were going, you wouldn’t be just yet, and that only made you more desperate to touch yourself. It was very very rarely you’d been able to get off from penetration alone and though you tonight could potentially prove to be another of those times, it certainly wasn’t going to happen this quickly. Lucy must have sensed your need because she began to trail her fingertips down your back as she walked away from your head, eventually bringing her hand to your clit. You moaned as you finally felt some kind of relief, the sound muffled by the cock jammed down your throat.    “So needy,” Lucy commented to no one in particular, laughing as she removed her fingers and heard you whine. And then she was back in front of you, sucking on the fingers she’d touched you with as she watched more saliva drip off your chin.   “Oh, f-fuck,” you heard Gwilym grunt, his cock twitching as he slowed his hips and pulled out of you. You barely had time to register the sudden emptiness and increased desire before you felt him covering your lower back with his cum. He tapped your arse in appreciation and walked away. Lucy leaned in to whisper something in Rami’s ear and with another two thrust he was cumming too, making you swallow every drop before he fell from your lips and tucked himself away.   “Think I need a stiff drink after that,” he said as he headed off to find something, leaving you alone with Lucy.    You let out a breath as you stood up again, the ache between your legs stronger after Lucy’s much too brief touch.    “Think I could use a top up too actually,” Lucy said as she looked around, “I’ll be back in a minute and then we’ll find another use for your mouth.   You whimpered as Lucy walked away as well leaving you alone, unable to move properly, dripping and needy, back itchy where Gwilym’s cum had landed. You could see Lucy talking to Ben as he topped up her glass of champagne, Rami and Gwilym standing with them. Turning your head, you found Joe, standing at the table where you’d laid out the toys that you and Ben were open to people using on you. He picked up the leather paddle Ben liked to use when you needed a punishment, tapping it against his palm a few times. Your instinct was to squeeze your thighs together but the spreader bar prevented you. Instead you watched, holding your breath, as Lucy joined Joe. You could see them talking and laughing, Joe still tapping the paddle against his hand absentmindedly. And then they were both walking in your direction, still talking, Joe still holding that damn paddle. You swallowed hard.   

As soon as Lucy was in front of you, she wrapped her hand around your throat again, squeezing slightly as she took a sip of her drink.    “I checked with Ben, he said this was okay,” She brought her lips to yours. Your first thought was that they were softer than Ben’s. Your second was that she tasted like champagne and strawberry lip gloss. Your third was how much it hurt when she bit your lip and pulled it.    “Had to know,” she shrugged, looking at Joe.   “Hey, no complaints here,”   “D’you want to uncuff her, or should I?”   “I’ll do it, you keep making out,”   Lucy giggled as she handed over the keys.   “Uncuffing me?” you croaked; voice rough from a mixture of not talking and how your throat had been used.   “Only because I want your fingers. Gonna use them and that pretty mouth to get me off.”   You whimpered and heard a chuckle from behind you as your wrists were finally released.   “She hasn’t even heard what I’m gonna do to her yet,”   “I was gonna let that be a surprise Joe,”   You rolled your shoulders, stretching the stiffness from them, and confessed that you’d already seen the paddle. Lucy tutted as she undid the clasp of your bra, dropping it to the floor as she turned towards the couch and fell into it gracefully, “Might have to blindfold you again after this. Can’t have you ruining any more of our surprises.” She crooked her finger at you and you awkwardly followed her, the spreader bar inhibiting your movement so that each small step drew everyone’s eye. When you were close enough to grab onto the couch for support you eased yourself to your knees and shuffled as close as you could get. Lucy raised her dress slightly, hooking her leg over your shoulder. You could feel the heel of her shoe resting on your back as you were drawn towards her still clothed pussy, a large wet patch proof of how much fun she’d had so far. You hooked your finger into her underwear, pulling it to the side, just as Joe began to speak to the room at large. Lucy’s hand in your hair kept you focused on her, kitten licking along her lips, as Joe began to take bets on how many spanks you could handle before you begged to stop. You weren't sure who said which number, everyone’s voices bleeding into each other as they argued and defended their bets. The lowest you heard was a pitiful five, the highest you were sure came from Ben who put his money on twenty. After all, he knew he’d reached that with you before. You tried to keep your tongue on Lucy as the talk died down again and the nerves rose in your chest, everyone waiting for the first strike. The was a pause, almost silent, and then the paddle came down against your arse, splitting the air with a sharp slap followed by a chorus of voices counting the first strike. You let out a small hiss as you relaxed back into Lucy, drawing a gasp from her as you circled your tongue around her clit. You were a little more prepared for the second spank now that you had an idea of how Joe moved, how forceful his first one had been. It only made you jolt forward, your hitched breath covered by everyone calling out two! The spanks with the paddle came faster and harder as they progressed, making you gasp into Lucy’s cunt as you continued to lick along her folds, gradually adding your fingers one at a time. By the time they’d reached ten spanks you were fighting back tears, three fingers pumping in and out of Lucy, trying to distract yourself from the sting in your arse by listening to the moans and sighs falling from her lips every time you curled your fingers and lapped at her wetness. You could tell she was getting close, rhythmically clenching round your fingers, her heel digging into your back as you took yet another hit. You sucked Lucy’s clit into your mouth as you pressed your fingers in deep, curling them and making her moan. It didn’t take much more than that to have her cumming, though the way you whined as Joe spanked you again probably helped push her over the edge. You let her ride the orgasm out on your fingers, licking up her release until she pushed you away and let her leg drop from your shoulder. As soon as you were free you felt another spank, this one hard enough to push a sob from your throat and tears from your eyes. Everyone yelled out the number thirteen and you braced yourself for another.  

You finally broke, crying out to stop at number twenty-two. Mascara stung your eyes and left black lines down your cheeks in the wake of tears you couldn’t stop. As chatter filled the room once more, discussing your performance and claiming Ben shouldn’t win any money since he clearly knew how long you’d last, you heard footsteps approach. Ben’s hand was warm against the back of your head and for a moment you let yourself drop out of the scene, leaning your forehead against his leg and breathing deep to control your tears.    “Hey, that wasn’t too much was it?” Joe asked, eyes flicking between you and Ben.   “No, not at all. Y/N knew how much she could take and you stopped when she said so.”   “Okay, good. Just wanted to check. You seemed a little tense towards the end there.”   “Mate, you’re fine. Just not the easiest thing to watch my girlfriend in that position when I’m not the one controlling how hard or how often she gets hit.”   “Yeah, Joe, that was great,” you said, looking up at him through watery eyes, “Broke my record.”   “And won me fifty quid,”   “Good luck getting everyone to pay up,” he chuckled.   For the briefest of moments, it felt like the three of you were just hanging out, joking around over a beer down the pub, until Ben leaned down to ask if you were alright to continue.   “Yeah, I am,” you nodded, sitting back on your heels and hissing slightly as they came into contact with your red, stinging arse. Even the pain wasn’t enough to dull the ache between your legs.   “Then why don’t you be a good whore and give Joe a proper thank you,” he turned to leave, stopping long enough to tell Joe not to be afraid to be rough.   “Well come on, thank me. Haven’t got all night,” Joe towered over you as you hurried to unzip his pants, setting his cock free as you slid them down over his hips. You wrapped your hand around him, thankful to be able to use your hands, as you leaned in to drag your tongue over his tip, collecting the precum that had already begun to accumulate. Clearly he’d enjoyed spanking you. From the way he bucked his hips as you took him between your lips, running your tongue along the underside of his cock, you’d say he enjoyed it quite a lot. He let you set your own pace, bobbing your head as you took him deeper before pulling off him entirely, pumping your hand over his length. Your own need was too much to ignore and you trailed your free hand over your thigh, desperate for some sort of relief. You didn’t get very far though before Joe noticed.   “Didn’t say you could do that,” he says as he knocks your hand away with his foot.   “Please, Joe, need to cum so bad,”   “Things like you don’t need anything. You just want it. Maybe you can convince me though.” He pushed on the back of your head and you took the hint, taking him back into your mouth. He left his hand resting lightly on your head but you could feel the weight of it, aware of how easy it would be for him to hold you down and make you choke. It did nothing to alleviate your desire.   “That’s better,” he grunted as you hollowed your cheeks. You picked up the pace, the mere possibility of an orgasm spurring you on. He let out a string of muttered curses as you let him sink deeper, reaching up with your free hand to squeeze his balls lightly. You looked up at him when he grabbed a fistful of your hair, eyes meeting as he snapped his hips towards you, making you gag. When he brought his other hand to your hair you knew you weren’t in control anymore. All you could do was brace your hands on his thighs and try to relax your throat as he thrust into you again and again, heedless of your comfort, your breath, your choked moans. You knew he was getting close by the way he sped up, grunting as he held you down. And then he was out of your throat, covering your chest with his cum while you desperately sucked air into your lungs. You were still gasping when he pulled you back to your feet. He lazily trailed his fingers down your stomach, stopping right before he reached where you wanted him most.    “Joe, please,”   “No. Didn’t convince me. But maybe someone else will take pity on you.” He withdrew his hand, walking away.  

Once again you were going to take matters into your own hands when you were stopped, this time by Ben who was clearly keeping a close eye on you.  “Uh uh uh, that’s not allowed.” he said as he grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from your dripping cunt, “if you don’t play along properly we’ll have to stop the game, and then you definitely won’t get to cum.”   You whined as he pulled the black bandana from his pocket and tied it round your eyes again.   “Didn’t expect you to lose this so quickly, let’s see how long it lasts before Lucy takes it off again.”   You nodded, vision removed once more.   “Now, are you going to be good or should I tie your hands up again?”   “I’ll be good.”   “Good. Can’t have you misbehaving in front of everyone.” He gave your arse a swat, making you whimper, as he walked off, leaving you alone and unable to see. It didn’t last long, the being alone part at least. One of the guys, you couldn’t tell who, trailed his fingertips over your collarbone, raising goose bumps and making your breath quicken. He remained quiet, giving you no hint to his identity, as he moved up your neck, fingers coming to rest where it met your jaw. He tilted your head to the side as he leaned in to attach his lips to your skin. You could feel your pulse beating hard under his tongue, a moan dropping from your lips as he kissed his way down your throat. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder before he left chuckling at the way you’d cried out. About a minute passed and then another set of hands were on you, rougher than the last. He, whoever he was, grabbed your wrist pulling your hand out so he could spit into your palm before wrapping your fingers around his cock.   

This was exactly how your fantasies normally went – just you and a series of anonymous people using your body however they wanted, rutting into your hand, squeezing your throat as they pinched and pulled your tits, bending you over so they could shove their cock into your mouth or examine the bruises forming on your arse. You could hear snatches of conversations as you were pulled around by numerous hands, never quite sure who was touching you at any given time. On your left you could hear Joe telling someone about the road trip he went on with some friends last month. The juxtaposition of such a casual conversation while you were being fingered to within an inch of your life made your head spin. It was the third time you’d heard the story during the night. Right before he got to the part about almost being left in a truckstop bathroom you heard the familiar click of Lucy’s heels. She was the only one you were certain of when she came close. Well, her and Ben – you had no trouble picking his footsteps or scent from everyone else’s. Perhaps you could have worked out the others except that thinking was becoming harder to do. Your body was covered in splatters of cum at various stages of drying, making you itch, your arse smarted, and you felt like if you didn’t cum soon you were going to combust. You’d been close more times than you could count but never quite got there before those who were fucking you pulled out and left you with their cum straining your underwear or dripping from your lips. You moaned as the fingers still pumping into you sped up.   “C’mon Gwil, be nice and let her cum, she looks desperate,”   So that was who was tormenting you at the moment, Gwilym was the reason you’d been saying nothing but the word please for the last three minutes.   “Think you mean pathetic,” he made no move to alter his pattern  “Well if you wont, I will,” her fingers drifted down towards your clit, circling you slowly as Gwilym continued finger fucking you. It only took a few seconds for her to have you moaning out your release, coating both their hands in your juices as you rode the orgasm for as long as they let you.   “Thank you,” you said breathlessly as both of them removed their hands from you.   Gwilym tapped his fingers against your lips until you let him push them into your mouth. Leaning into your ear he softly said, “I’m going to fuck you again before the night’s done. Properly.” You heard him retreat but then Lucy was grabbing your hand, placing it between her own legs.   “Fair’s fair.”   She was wet, her cunt welcoming you with a squeeze as you let two fingers slide into her. You began to build a steady pace, searching for that spot that would make her knees buckle. She threw her arms over your shoulders for support as you added a third finger, her nails digging into you as you let your thumb land on her clit. Her moans were muffled by your neck as you pushed her closer to her release, curling your fingers and stroking until she came on shaking legs.   “I’m going to have to ask Ben if I can borrow you for a night. Chain you to my bed and play with every inch of you until I can’t cum anymore.”   You lost track of how long you’d stood there, being repositioned over and over. Sometimes you had less than a second before one cock was replaced by another, sometimes you were left alone for what felt like hours, listening for any hint of someone approaching but only hearing the conversations happening around you.   

When Ben announced that dinner was ready everyone moved toward the table, replacing chairs they’d moved around during the night, a couple of people giving you a last squeeze or slap as they passed. Ben knelt down to release your feet and you almost collapsed against him as he led you towards your designated seat. It was one of the chairs taken from the table everyone sat at, pulled off to the side so you were still within view without being the center of attention. He pulled your arms behind the chair, securing you in place with the handcuffs so you couldn’t move. You could smell the roast Ben had spent the afternoon preparing, along with all the accompanying sides that you’d helped him make.    “Is Y/N not eating with us then?” Lucy asked.   “Toys don’t need to eat,”   “She’s probably full anyway,” Joe said matter-of-factly, “y’know, from how much she’s swallowed tonight.”   There were snorts of laughter amongst the tinkling sounds of cutlery and glasses, followed by the melodic buzz of talking, sometimes discussions that involved the whole table, sometimes just kept between two or three people. Occasionally you heard your name mentioned making you jump and focus on the conversation. More often than not it was Ben mentioning you in passing as he talked about the day trip you’d taken to the beach last week or something else equally mundane. But the few less innocent comments you heard made you squirm. Hearing Rami describe how incredible your tits were was enough to have you whimpering, and hearing Gwil talk about how hot you sounded when you came had you clenching your thighs together in your chair.   “Fuck, look at her now,” Joe said, accompanied by the sound of someone shifting their chair for a better look, followed by a louder, “you alright?” directed towards you.    You whined, knowing you sounded completely desperate but beyond caring, as you tried to get some sort of relief.   “Needy whore,”   “Wants to be fucked some more,” said with an accompanying laugh.   “Someone should do it. Dinner and a show.”   “Nah, let her squirm a bit longer,”   “If you boys are quite done, I think I have an idea,”    “She’s all yours,”   You whimpered as Lucy pushed her chair back, listening as the sound of her shoes went past you and then returned a few seconds later.    You got a whiff of her perfume, floral and sweet, as she leaned down, hands resting on your thighs. You could feel something pressed between her palm and your leg but couldn’t work out what it was, not with her talking to you so softly, her breath tickling your ear and sending a shiver through you.    “You wanna cum again, don’t you? Poor thing.”   All you could do was nod, whimpering out a soft, “please.”   You were already trembling as she knelt between your legs, caressing your thighs softly before she hooked her fingers into the band of your thong and slid it off you. She lifted one of your legs onto her shoulder so she could push the unknown object into you before she let your leg drop back down and stood up again. You were panting, unsure why she’d teased you so, as she took her seat again.   “What’d you do, Luce? Nothing happened,” Rami barely finished speaking when you felt the egg vibrator come to life and a small oh slipped out of your mouth. The vibration increased sending you hurtling towards the orgasm you so badly wanted. You clenched your legs together as you moaned through your release, Lucy reducing the power of the vibrator as you came down. You had maybe five seconds to compose yourself before it was being turned back up again, pulling a string of moaned expletives from you as you fell into another orgasm much more quickly than you ever had before.    “There’s your show,” Lucy laughed over your whines as your sensitivity grew.   “Pass me the controller for a minute,” Joe said, “how do you use it?”   “Just spin that wheel, up makes it vibrate more,”   “Like this?”   You jerked in your chair as it got stronger, whimpering when he turned it down again.   “Oh, easy. Think I’m a little scared of you now Luce.”   There was laughter as you tipped over the edge again.   

They didn’t let up until they’d had their fill, finishing their dinner to the sound of your heavy panting and moaned requests to stop as you unsuccessfully tried to squirm away from the constant vibrations. The controller was passed from person to person, each one changing the settings according to their own whim. For a while you were left with a low-level buzzing as the controls sat by Gwil’s plate, untouched, giving you as much respite as you could hope for under the circumstances. But then it was back in the hands of Joe who delighted in making you scream as he turned it up high. By the time everyone had eaten their last bite and complimented the meal, the controls were in Ben’s hands. If you’d hoped for leniency, for a kind word of praise as he set you free, you’d hoped wrong. Ben did halt the vibrator, turning it off as he walked towards you and removed your blindfold again, but he also twisted his hand through your hair so he could tug your head up, forcing you to look at the table. Four pairs of eyes were fixed on you as Ben spun the controls to the highest possible setting, watching as your hips bucked and your back arched as much as your bound position would allow you. You couldn’t even scream as you came again, your voice catching in your throat as all the air was pushed from your lungs at once. When he was satisfied with your performance, Ben turned it off and reached between your legs to pull the egg from you, pocketing it as he began collecting dirty dishes with the help of an insistent Lucy, leaving you twitching in the chair. You closed your eyes for a second in an attempt to settle your pounding heart, opening them to find Rami standing in front of you.   “I know you lost count of how many orgasms you just had,” he said softly as he kneeled between your legs, “but I’m going to take another one from you.” He pushed your legs wider, probing at your entrance with two fingers as he rubbed your clit with his other hand. You didn’t think you could cum again but his unhurried movements built you up despite how sensitive you felt. He watched your every reaction as he changed the angle of his fingers until he found your gspot. You shook as you tipped over the edge again, unable to resist his steady strokes.   “Good girl, knew you had another one for me.” he said as he wiped his hands on his pants. 

“What do you think Rami?” Joe asked as he and Gwilym approached.  “What do I think about what?”   “Best way to play with a girl’s nipples,”   “Oh, I guess, like this,” Rami reached out with one hand, pinching your nipple and rolling it between his fingers before tugging it away from your body, making you loudly whine.   “Is that really your favourite way?”   “It’s a classic. Simple. Easy to control. You can add a twist,” he twisted your nipple until you tried to jerk away, “for a little extra pain if she’s into that.”   Joe scoffed, “You cannot beat sucking on a nipple. It’s clearly the best way,” he lowered his head to your chest, his breath fanning out over your sensitive nipple as he moved closer. He took it into his mouth, tracing his tongue around it and sucking gently. Your eyes fluttered closed, releasing a soft moan at how good it felt until he suddenly clamped his teeth down, making you wince.   “See? Nothing beats a little bit of tongue and teeth. Well okay Gwil, since you clearly disagree, you wanna demonstrate for the class?”   “I don’t necessarily disagree. It just depends on what you want to achieve.”   Joe raised his eyebrows and waved his hand, inviting Gwilym to go on.   “Well if you want her to moan then yeah, either of your methods is great. But if you’re looking for something a little more painful, maybe more of a punishment, you can’t beat the flick.” Without any warning he dropped his hand towards your other nipple, flicking it quickly, making you jolt.   “It’s especially good if you surprise them with it after you’ve been fairly gentle. And the more you do it, the more it hurts.”   “Show me again?”   Gwilym repeated his flicking motion on both your nipples at once, and then again, each one sending a shock of pain through your chest. You whimpered as his fingers were replaced by Rami’s on one nipple and Joe’s on the others, both testing the flick for themselves.   “Okay, that’s pretty good.”   “I’ll expect your cheques in the mail soon,”   “Wonder what Ben thinks,” Joe said, heading off to find out, followed by Rami. Gwilym stayed behind.   “What say we get you out of those cuffs now?” Gwil said as he picked up the keys from where Ben had left them near you. You nodded, expecting there to be a catch, but he leant down behind you and unlocked your restraints without another word. You brought your arms to your front, rolling your wrists, but didn’t have time for anything else before he was dragging you from the chair to the table and pushing you down over it.   “Told you I was gonna fuck you again.”   Your nails scratched over the smooth surface of the table, looking for something to cling on to as he bottomed out. The best you could manage was to grasp the side of the table, knuckles turning white and plea for him not to stop, as he fucked you. You clenched around him, reaching your peak and falling into an underwhelming orgasm right as he pulled out of you. Before you could stand up again he was pulling you backwards and pushing you to your knees.   “Mouth,” he grunted and you had a few seconds to register the way Gwilym was pumping his fist over his cock before he was coating your lips and chin. You had just enough time to swallow what you could lick up before Rami pushed his cock between your lips. It took you by surprise, not having realised the others had returned but you tried to stay relaxed as he thrust into your mouth a couple of times before Joe replaced him. Your hands flew up to grasp their shafts as you alternated between them, sucking one as you jerked the other. Suddenly your hair was being tugged on as Lucy spun your head towards her. She used her free hand to remove her underwear and you obediently leaned in to suck her clit, still jerking Joe and Rami. Lucy pushed you closer to her, your nose nudging her clit as your tongue wandered lower, pulling a few softly spoken expletives from her. You felt like you’d just found the perfect rhythm to please the three of them when you were grabbed under your arms and pulled away. You were dropped on your feet in front of Ben, who sat on the couch. He spun you round and you squealed as he swatted your still sore arse but you bent over for him all the same, trying to relax as he carefully removed the plug he’d wiggled into you that morning. The lube was cold as he squirted a generous amount onto you, using his fingers to make sure you were ready before he pulled you backwards, spreading your cheeks as you slowly sunk down onto him.    “Breath,” he said into your ear and you realised you’d been holding your breath, “You good?”   “Mmhmm,” you tilted your head back, eyes closed as the stretch settled into a deep fullness. Ben leaned into the back of the couch, almost lying down, and you felt your legs being spread. You barely had time to react to Rami plowing into your cunt, the moan getting caught in your throat as Joe filled your mouth with his cock. Somewhere to your left you could hear Gwilym and Lucy laughing about you being sealed airtight but the joke barely registered in your brain, much too concerned with how incredibly full you were. Joe timed his thrusts to match Rami’s, the force making you rock on Ben’s cock even as he stayed relatively still. Your eyes fluttered shut, stray tears clinging to your eyelashes as you tried not to let the mix of sensations overwhelm you. You felt the couch dip a little as Lucy knelt beside you, grabbing your hand and placing your fingers at her entrance. She rocked against your hand, chasing the release she’d been close to getting from your tongue. Gwil grabbed your other hand, wrapping it around his cock, but you hardly noticed his rutting as Ben suddenly thrust up into you. Your whole body felt hot, a fire spreading through you as you were fucked from every angle, a fuzz settling in your brain as the pleasure took over. You shook as an orgasm rolled through you, Rami pulling out of you and jerking himself off onto your tits. As soon as Rami stepped back Joe took his place, pushing deep into you as Lucy brought your head to her chest. She arched her back into you as you sucked a nipple into your mouth. Joe and Ben were so in sync as they thrust in and out of you, filling you more completely than you’d ever felt before.   “Fuck,” Joe grunted as he pulled out of you, cumming over your stomach. You whined as Lucy pushed three fingers into your overly sensitive cunt, your head being pulled away from her breasts so Gwil could fuck your throat. Your own choked moans echoed in your ears as your whole body buzzed and your vision slipped in and out of focus. You felt like you were floating between them, unable to find anything real to cling on to or ground you. You were vaguely aware of Lucy’s rapidly increasing ohs as she rubbed her clit and reached her own release on your hand. She continued to pump her fingers into you, curling them until you were seeing stars. The moan you made around Gwil’s cock had him cursing as he filled your mouth with his cum, watching it drip over your lips as he pulled out. You hastily sucked in a breath of air, it going some way to making you feel less lightheaded, but the breath was quickly pushed from your lungs again as Ben grasped your hips and began to slam you down on his cock repeatedly. It didn’t take him long to reach his own climax, pulling out as he released his load so that it dripped down between your legs.   

You still felt floaty and dizzy as Ben picked you up and lay you down on the couch with a pillow under you head.   “She’s done guys,” he said to the rest of the group, nodding his head to the table as an invitation to join him. Everyone stayed a little while longer, sitting around and talking over coffee and cake like it was a regular dinner party, like they hadn’t just collectively fucked you into a different realm. You stayed curled up on the couch, dozing on and off as you gradually got the buzzing in your body to stop. Your dazed state stretched on as everyone left, snatches of goodbyes floating to you from the doorway. When you thought back a week later you could distinctly remember hearing Gwilym say he’d love to do that again if you were ever going to repeat the experience. Once the door was shut and the music stopped, Ben knelt down by your head, brushing your hair away from your face.   “Y/N?” He said softly. You blinked your eyes open and smiled up at him.   “That was fun,” you felt groggy and tired but you laughed as Ben pulled you into a tight bear hug, “You shouldn’t hug me Ben, I’m covered in cum and smudged makeup and lube and whatever else, gonna ruin your clothes.”   “Clothes shmothes. As if I’m not gonna hug you after that. You were fucking incredible.”   You buried your face in his neck, breathing deeply.   “How do you feel?”   “Like I need a shower.”   “How about a bath?”   “Even better.”   Ben kissed the top of your head before he let you go, wrapping his arm around your waist as he led you to the bathroom. You picked up a facecloth as Ben ran the bath, using it to clean the mascara tear tracks and smudged lipstick from your cheeks and chin.    “Let me help,” Ben said softly, dropping to his knees and unhooking your stockings from the garter belt, sliding both down your legs and throwing them into the laundry hamper. You ruffled his hair in gratitude, the tiredness you felt only getting more pronounced as the seconds slipped by.   The tub wasn’t full but you needed to sit down, carefully stepping over the edge and easing yourself into the hot water. Ben quickly shed his own clothes, adding them to the hamper, and climbed in behind you. You stayed sitting just long enough to turn the water off before the tub overflowed, and then leaned back against Ben.   “How do you feel?” he asked again as he picked up your soap and washcloth, “now that you’re in a bath I mean.”   “Tired and a little sore. And kinda feel like crying but I’m not sure why.”   He ran the washcloth along your shoulder and down your arm, beginning to scrub your skin clean.   “Well I’ve booked you in for a massage tomorrow afternoon, so that should help with the sore. As for the tired, I am gonna make you stay awake a little longer, but you can relax while I take care of you and you can sleep in tomorrow.”   “And the random crying?”   “Just your brain rebalancing. It was flooded with a bunch of endorphins and different emotions. Cry as much as you need to, it’s cathartic and it’ll make you feel better.”   You nodded, tilting your head back to look at him, “did you have a good time?”   “Absolutely. That was so unbelievably hot. Definitely gonna keep me going next time I’m away,”   You both laughed softly as he gently pushed you forward so he could wash your back. He pushed your hair out of the way and traced his finger over a mark on your shoulder.   “You got a few souvenirs from tonight,”   “Is that the bitemark?”   “Yeah. Do you know who left it?”   “Not really. At the time I thought it might be Rami but I’m not sure. What else have I got?”   “Couple red spots where people slapped you. Quite a few scratches.”   “Lucy,” you both said at the same time with a chuckle.   Ben kept talking to you as he shampooed and conditioned your hair and while he wrapped you in a big fluffy towel. He kissed you on the forehead again and told you to go hop into bed, that he’d be with you in a moment.   “And don’t go to sleep yet either. I’ll be quick.”   You did as he asked, having just enough energy to slip into one of his tee shirts and a fresh pair of undies before hopping under the covers. You snuggled down deep, closing your eyes as your head landed on the pillow, ignoring Ben’s request to stay awake. But, try as you might, sleep wouldn’t come. Your body was too amped up, still kind of horny despite everything, leaving you simultaneously dead tired and wide awake. Sitting up again you reached for your laptop, figuring you might as well watch some Netflix or something. And then the tears started, virtually out of nowhere. When Ben came back, in fresh pyjamas straight from the clean washing yet to be put away, he found you hunched over, clutching your knees to your chest and crying uncontrollably. He placed the items he was carrying down on his bedside table before he joined you in bed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you leaned into his chest. He rubbed your back and mumbled soft words of praise until you managed to stop.   “Sorry,” you said as you wiped at your eyes, “it just hit me,”   “Nothing to apologise for babe, I told you to let it out. Do you feel better?”   “A bit, yeah,”   “Here, brought you something,” he handed you a glass of water and a plate of food, everything from the dinner you’d been unable to eat, put aside especially for you, “wanted to make sure you ate something and drank some water before you slept,”   You nodded already biting into a warm potato.   “What d’you want to watch?”   “Don’t care, as long as I don’t have to think.”   He picked an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine at random. You’d both seen it before so it wouldn’t matter if you fell asleep while it played but it was funny enough to keep you entertained as your brain and body relaxed. After you’d finished eating Ben offered you a row from a block of chocolate claiming it’d help your body balance itself and feel more normal. You didn’t know if that was true but you ate it regardless. Finally he was ready to let you settle down. He got up to turn the light off as you packed away the laptop and once again snuggled down under the covers. You hissed slightly as he slid in behind you, coming into contact with your bum.   “Shit, I’m sorry babe, should have got a cold compress on that earlier,”   “‘s alright. Do it tomorrow, it’ll be fine.” your eyes were much too heavy to be worried about how you’d bruise. Ben agreed, pulling you against his chest carefully.   “I love you Y/N, so much,” he said softly as he leaned his head against your neck.   You were already asleep.  

#ben hardy x reader #ben hardy smut #borhap cast smut #borhap cast imagine #rami malek x reader #lucy boynton x reader #joe mazzello x reader #gwilym lee x reader #my writing #(it took a little longer than 10 mins to get up #cause i had some problems with formatting #but its here #its long (maybe too long lmao) #its filthy #god how did i get here?

[prorevenge]

Was five minutes worth 30% of your global market?

So I used to live in Deutschland, and upon returning to fair Blighty (the UK) I began looking for work. Being a simple man of simple needs, I quickly found employment in the marketing department for a medium sized industrial manufacturer. It was a little below my experience level and qualifications but I take what I can get, because I am a simple man.

At the final interview, I mentioned it would be top banana if I could arrive five minutes early and leave five minutes early on most days, so I could catch my train. With a smile, my new boss (hereafter referred to as Mentirosa) said of course - it's only five minutes and I'd still be working the full eight hours! Sin problemas, Anpassungburo, and welcome aboard!

My first day comes and I ride the choo-choo all the way to my new workplace, eager to begin. I quickly learn that the lunch room is pure stank, senior staff put their name instead of mine on any trade article I get published, and that our job mostly consists of extorting money from our own sales staff, but that's life. I am a simple man and so I set about my labours, glad to earn a crust.

What really flogged my noggin, however, is La Mentirosa calling me into her office on my second day and telling me I can't leave early again because it is unprofessional. I remind her of the conversation we had in which she said, with her mouth, the words 'it will be no problem for you to arrive and leave five minutes early.' She smirks and replies 'maybe I said that, but is that written in your contract?'

Touché, you big ol' Mentirosa, touché. I shrug and get on with life, because that's life, but of course I start looking for other work. By making me stay the five minutes, La Mentirosa makes me miss my train and turns my two hours daily commute into a four hour one. Nyet друг, I do not want this. I am a simple man and need my downtime.

About two weeks later, the company goes on a firing spree. One of those people fired is me, because I have been quite openly looking for for other work. I am given two weeks notice and smugly told I am not good enough for this place, and that I will never work in the area again because of La Mentirosas 'contacts'. As she snapchats this news to the rest of the team (I joke not) I reflect that she is probably right, as I am a simple man.

Among the other victims of the purge is the regional sales manager for Germany. This is more important to the company than my meaningless departure, since the company also decided to end the contract with their biggest German distributor and so suddenly a huge part of the company's core market is not active and they have no salesman to find them a new distributor! Management panics until La Mentirosa remembers that her despised marketing bandit is a fluent German speaker, and so the fun begins. She asks me to step up to the plate. "Be a buddy ol' pal, I didn't mean it when I said you'd never work in this town again!"

I am a simple man, so rather than point out that I am not being paid anywhere near what I could earn as a translator, rather than remind them that they have just fired me and I am not their friend anymore, rather than asking "is it written in my contract?" and then smirking like an obnoxious dingwall on a high horse made of douche, I instead swallow my pride and agree to help out.

It is here that the twin revenges, named Inadequacy and Abandonment, make their entrance.

Firstly, Inadequacy. During every conversation I mention my job title; Advertising Assistant. When the friendly Teutons politely ask why a lowly assistant is negotiating this kind of deal, I simply explain that the regional manager was let go and there is no formal replacement. This is entirely true, but is also a huge red flag for any serious company, especially well-established German manufacturering firms, and combined with the temporary uncertainty regarding Brexit (which had been announced only a few days prior) was enough to kill any interest they had in becoming our next distributor.

Secondly, Abandonment. As I am a simple man I forgot to tell La Mentirosa that I had already received, and accepted, another job offer. She was thrilled at the praises she was getting from management for finding a stopgap solution to the catastrophic damage they had done themselves, and she asked me if I could actually stay on with the company until they secured a new distributor, since I obviously had nothing better to do with my time, being fired and all. I assured her there were no hard feelings over my firing, and that I would stay to help as long as I could.

On the day I was originally due to leave, I held my calls, drew up a summary of where we stood (it was effectively a sad emoji followed by a poop emoji), handed it to La Mentirosa and explained I was leaving to enjoy a week of holiday followed by starting a new job in a different field.

She sputtered. She couldn't believe it! She thought I would stay longer to help clean up the mess! They still had no distributor and no sales manager for Germany! They were haemorrhaging money! She called me out, reminding me that I had said I would stay, but I am a simple man and so my only reply was; 'maybe I said that, but is that written in my contract?'

TL;DR - manager lies in interview then fires me and threatens to badmouth me all over town. Then asks me to stay past my notice period and help clean up their foul up. Instead I am honest with their potential clients and leave abruptly. The company goes without 30% of its turnover for at least a month

PS - the company survived, La Mentirosa ended up being let go , and I spent several fantastic years at the new job so didn't ruin my career

EDIT: some people have pointed out that I erroneously used the word 'several' to describe a period of time of roughly two years. This is not a sign of duplicity, just more proof that I am a simple man.

(source) (story by anpassungburo)

#prorevenge #by anpassungburo #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #revenge story #last10

[softboyholland]

Ok ok I need ABSOLUTELY NEED a petermj celebrity au with t*mdaya teas pls

ok ok headcanon time binches

ok so i decided to go with supermodel!mj and regular ol’ peter parker

except everyone knows that he’s spider-man now

he did the whole reveal a year ago (it was very iron-man like)

and now he stays at the avengers mansion with the rest of the avengers

ok so peter makes a friend in wanda

because she’s young too and she was ROBBED of her childhood and basic societial skills and pop culture because of her powers

so when peter gets over his fear of her, he makes it his personal mission to help her experience being a teenager

(even though they’re all in their early 20s here)

ok so wanda gets a little invested in fashion and makeup

peter knows nothing about that BECAUSE HE’S A NERD

so he begs tony to get him and wanda two seats to a fashion show

of course everyone knows that they’re scarlet witch and spider-man so they’re honored to have two heros present at their fashion show

so they’re at a chanel fashion show in paris and PETER IS BORED OUT OF HIS MIND

he tries to look interested for wanda but i mean sure the clothes look cool??? but what else is he supposed to do??

he’s just very awkward

and everyone seems to know each other and wanda feels a little out of place AND IT’S NOT LIKE HE KNOWS WHO THESE HIGH FASHION PEOPLE ARE

so he can’t exactly introduce them to wanda

but because this fashion show isn’t like any other, they all have tables and they have dinner and everything

the girl next to wanda whom he’s pretty sure has been watching the two of them for the past 10 minutes with the same bored expression on her face sighs overdramatically and turns to wanda

“i’m michelle jones. are you wanda maximoff?”

wanda nods nervously and peter pretends like he isn’t listening in on the conversation

“i love your lipstick. you’re really pulling off the color, especially with that skirt.”

and then michelle is introducing wanda to her stylist and her stylist is complimenting wanda’s outfit and wanda seems genuinely happy it’s so heartwarming to watch.

so michelle hits it off with wanda and peter isn’t as bored anymore because at least wanda’s happy now

when they finally leave the fashion show, peter asks wanda if she had a good time and wanda thanks him

but then she shoots peter a text which is just a number sequence

peter’s like, “are these the codes for some sort of launch?”

and wanda laughs, “that’s michelle’s phone number.”

PETER GETS DEFENSIVE BECAUSE HE DOESN’T NEED HER PHONE NUMBERNO-

and wanda’s all like chill, “she offered to take me shopping tomorrow so you know where to find me, in case you can’t get me.”

peter’s all red now and then wanda jokes, “it could totally mean something else if you want.”

peter groans and ignores her teasing.

it’s really nothing, peter really does not have a crush on mj. he really doesn’t. no like i’m serious you guys.

he only starts like REALLY NOTICING HER when he walks into wanda’s hotel room like after 2 days of minding his own business and working on web formulas

she’s laying on wanda’s bed and they both have facemasks on and bathrobes on and michelle is asking wanda all about being an avenger and “is black widow really THAT badass? i bet she is. i can’t believe you get to see her almost everyday.”

it’s really cute actually

not MICHELLE NO SHE’S NOT CUTE

wanda having a friend is real cute

and then she stops talking when peter walks in and wanda’s like, “hey! i haven’t seen you in days!”

michelle is unusually quiet throughout the whole thing

finally she gets a call

AND THIS MIGHT BE THE SECOND TIME HE REALLY NOTICES HER

because she removes her bathrobe and lets her hair down from it’s messy bun and she’s tugging on her heels and she’s slipping on a trenchcoat over her gymwear???

and she does everything in under a minute and it all happens in slow motion for peter (like in those rom-coms he makes fun of wanda for watching)

she hugs wanda goodbye and tells her that she’ll see her soon and wishes both of them a safe flight

she goes to hug peter but peter goes to shake her hand (HOMEBOY IS STILL A LITTLE STARSTRUCK OK) and they hug all awkwardly and he can literally see michelle cringing for a split second before she leaves

walking LIKE A FUCKING MODEL

SHE’S LITERALLY ONLY JUST IN A HOTEL AND SHE’S WALKING AWAY LIKE A DAMN MODEL

peter feels like, and probably looks like the heart eye emoji

wanda smirks at him and he shrugs it off

there’s some sort of commotion downstairs and there’s literally a whole crowd because of her, “jesus, how famous is she?”

“she’s a supermodel, peter.”

“WHAT?”

“she’s a supermodel, an activist, a fashion and feminist icon…” wanda drawls out, watching peter from the corner of her eye.

he looks like he’s about to short-circuit.

when wanda teases him, he claims that he was just shocked he’s never heard of her before.

sure, jan

when they’re back in new york, mj invites wanda over to visit her on the set of her photoshoot

OF COURSE, WANDA BRINGS PETER BECAUSE SEEING HIM GET FLUSTERED/SHOOK OVER MJ’S MODELLING SKILLS IS THE FUNNIEST SHIT EVER

ofc she doesn’t tell him that they’re going to visit mj

and then, bam!

and her shoot is literally by the poolside right

so peter thinks, oh wow we’re just going to a fancy hotel with a pool and a really nice view

AND THEN BAM! SHE’S IN THE WATER

AND SHE’S POSING FOR THE CAMERA

AND WANDA LITERALLY GRIPS ONTO PETER’S ARM TO KEEP HIM FROM FALLING

literally, of course

i mean can u imagine

so we’ve been focusing on peter

but LET’S TALK ABOUT MICHELLE

SHE KNOWS ALL ABOUT PETER BECAUSE HE’S ALL WANDA EVER TALKS ABOUT

and okayyyyyyy so she did initially think that he was a little cute because he kept on looking around at everyone in the fashion show like a lost, confused, puppy

it was quite hard for her to believe that HE was spider-man

and then she befriends wanda and wanda tells her all about how peter wants her to experience a normal life and he’s the one who got her the tickets to the show and

NOW MICHELLE FINDS OUT THAT HE’S NOT AN ASSHOLE???? THIS IS NOT GOOD.

and so what if she got caught off guard the other day when he walked into wanda’s room, his lab goggles resting on the top of his head, messy brown curls and all

SO HE WAS CUTE OK

FINE HE WAS CUTE

and then now!! wanda brings him to her photoshoot

which she’s totally cool with yep no big deal but now she has the need to look 100x cooler than she already does

IT IS NOT A CRUSH OK

and her photographer is hyping her up

and he’s wearing a very thin, white tee that shows off his muscles and for the first time since she’s met him, she’s like, “hot damn.”

then she’s biting her lip and not-so-subtly ogling him

wanda smirks at her and she looks away

BUT THEN PETER IS JUST.STARING.

HE’S NOT EVEN PANICKY ANYMORE

HE’S JUST. DROOLING.

wanda snaps it

the avengers tease him for days

after the internet does it’s thing and everyone is like ‘get u a man that looks at you the way spider-man looks at something in the far off distance’

and wanda invites michelle to the mansion one day

and mj totally freaks out when she sees black widow AND t’challa

HOLY SHIT

peter’s sparring with natasha when wanda introduces them

AND GOD, IT’S SO CUTE WATCHING HER FREAK OUT OVER SOMETHING

because she usually looks so cool, and calm, and collected

and maybe he does get a teeny bit jealous when mj gushes over black panther being the coolest superhero ever

so from then on, she spends a lot of time w wanda in the common room

AND BOY, IF PETER WASN’T ABSOLUTELY SMITTEN WITH HER WHEN SHE WAS ALL DOLLED UP,,,,Y’ALL KNOW HE’S A FUCKING GONER WHEN HE SEES HER LAUGHING AT WANDA’S COMMENTARY OF A HORRIBLE ROM-COM, with a bare face, in nothing but sweats and a tee

she’s throwing popcorn at wanda and she’s laughing– his heart flutters

ok so NOW HE ADMITS

he may have a thing for her

but she does befriend peter eventually,

after he stops being weird about his crush on her, he does realise that he’s going to have to hangout with her if he wants to hangout with wanda

and then he finds out that she’s really, really funny

like she makes you clutch your stomach because you’re laughing from too much pain kind of funny

and that makes him fall even harder

so they become close too right

and he snapchats ALMOST EVERY INTERACTION WITH HER

she doesn’t have snapchat

so ppl inevitably start shipping them together

because if you add peter on snapchat

sometimes it’s just 4 second videos of michelle laughing uncontrollably

LIKE WITHOUT CONTEXT

thats his whoLE DAMN STORY

then whenever he goes shopping with her and she gets irritated at his fashion choices

you’ll see peter zooming in on michelle with her arms crossed and rolling her eyes at him from the opposite side of the room

IT’S HILARIOUS

BUT THEY ACT LIKE ACTUAL BOYFRIEND AND GIRLFRIEND

fans always see them out together

and peter’s always posting shit about her

also, he visits her shoots regularly

unless he’s gtg save the world he’s usually snapchatting michelle going from hot to a dork in 0.5 seconds from behind the camera

and peter totally takes candid photos of her that fill his instagram

at this point, falcon and bucky take to teasing him about his ‘girlfriend’ all the time

IT ALWAYS MAKES HIM GO RED

sometimes they always have little impromptu photoshoots

(if y’all follow cole sprouse, you know he has little impromptu photoshoots with his girlfriend aka lili reinhart all the time and THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT THESE DORKS DO)

OOH AND I CAN’T FORGET THEY TOTALLY SHARE CLOTHES ALL THE TIME

like michelle will show up to a shoot wearing a flannel that’s a little too loose on her shoulders, and is way too big for her tiny arm AND EVERYONE ALREADY KNOWS WHO IT BELONGS TOO BUT

no one says anything cuz she always gets so damn defensive over it

and PETER TOTALLY STEALS HER HIGH FASHION SHIT

he IS an avenger

that means, attending tony stark’s parties

and michelle always styles him and occasionally lets him borrow her stuff

they never return to her

THEY HAVE THE SAME SIZE FEET

PETER STEALS HER COMFY SHOES ALL THE TIME

IT’S REALLY CUTE BECAUSE HE WEARS IT EVERYWHERE. WITH ANYTHING.

IT’S FUNNY AND DISAPPOINTING

so at this point, everyone literally thinks they’re dating

BUT THE THING IS THAT THEY’RE NOT

because like in every spideychelle fic ever, they’re always too oblivious of their feelings for each other

then one day, they’re literally mobbed by paparazzi

the poor children are literally just watching some nerdy movie that peter wanted to watch together

and everyone’s asking them if they’re dating

WHICH THEY ARE NOT!!!!! SO THEY DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY EVERYONE THINKS THEY’RE TOGETHER

its fuckin weird

(lmao no its not)

they keep getting followed by paparazzi

so much so that all the snaps stop

and NOW THERE’S LITERALLY NO TRACE OF THEM HANGING OUT TOGETHER

almost everyone on social media thinks that they’ve broken up

so they meet up in secret

like they literally only hang out at night

she’s either at the compound

or he’s at her penthouse

that’s literally the only way they get to hang out w each other

but because they’re an ass backwards couple,

as the whole internet, thinks that they’re broken up

they kiss one night

and tHEN THEY START DATING

(it happens because peter’s staring at her and she throws a pillow at him and tells him to stop but he doesn’t stop and then they’re kissing)

SO NOW AS EVERYONE THINKS THEY’RE BROKEN UP, THEY’RE OFFICIALLY DATING

so everything is lowkey

and ppl still think they’re broken up

but one day

there’s a paparazzi photo of mj leaving some event

and then fans realise that her lockscreen looks very suspicious

so after zooming,

they realise that it’s literally just a photo of her pet cat and some guy

if only they had better pic quality

but that’s not even what gives them away

what really gives them away is when peter parker who NEVER uses his twitter account accidentally posts a photo of MJ

you can only see half of peter’s face but like ANYONE CAN TELL IT’S HIM

ok and on peter’s chest is a sleeping mj, and you can very clearly see the smirk on peter’s face

IT’S THE CUTEST PHOTO EVER

but by the time he deletes, there are already 2 screenshots and they’re circulating stan twitter ALREADY

when mj finds out about this, she really almost rolls her eyes so hard that they fall out

but it was bound to happen anyway

so tony is forced to increase security around them

but they become everyone’s relationship goals

it’s great

hope u liked it!

#spideychelle #spideychelle fanfiction #spideychelle fic #spideychelle headcanon #peter x michelle #peter and michelle' #petermj #spider-man: homecoming #Peter Parker #Michelle jones

[temporalcrow]

1-5 Ghost

fucc.

1. Their physical weak spots

ok well. I mean. You.. you can kick him in the dick. He doesn’t do so well with bright lights, considering his eyes are so light blue that it just. Ow. If you were to dig your hand in his side where Dylan stabbed him I’d imagine that would hurt a lot. 

I don’t entirely know what it means by that.

2. Their emotional/moral weak spots

That entirely depends. If anything happens to Dylan he’ll freak the fuck out and try his best to fix it, even at the risk of damaging his own health. A lot of bad things that Dylan could do would severely throw Ghost out of line.

 Since he’s a slasher-type, some of his moral weak spots would be considered ‘’Nice’’ things.

So, for one, he doesn’t like seeing people have nothing. He quite often gives money to homeless people and offers them refuge in his home to take care of them until he can get them to another, safer place. That entirely depends if they find out his secret or not though.

He wants friends. He’s dreadfully lonely. Dylan is helping with that, and he’s content with him, but before he arrived he wasn’t. If you are his friend he’ll probably very much enjoy your company, but if you start pulling away and acting distant he’ll begin to fear. It’s kind of what not being cared for your entire life will do to you.

A lesser thing is that he fucking loves dogs. He loves dogs so much and he’ll drop everything to protect one.

3. Scars or painful spots

Oh, right. Yes, he’s got this big ol road rash scar on his left arm. It’s sensitive and still kind of bothers him from time to time. 

Ghost has a few scars from bullet wounds, and they’re rather sensitive as well.

There is also that knife wound in his side THANKS DYLAN. asshole.

Other than that he has various scars here and there on his body. From knife wounds to bullet wounds, and other such various things. Surprisingly, despite being a firebug, he doesn’t have any burns on his body.

4. Best places to kiss on their body

THE SAD PART IS LITERALLY EVERYWHERE. He is not used to being kissed or shown affection to at all. He melts with literally everything. Sooner or later, he’ll grow out of it and develop favorite spots -- like probably on his forehead, right between his eyebrows. Probably on his neck, too.

5. Guilty pleasures

This was asked before but hell, I don’t know. He doesn’t feel guilty burning people alive.

Maybe a new thing is very much enjoying torturing others who deserve it. He likes watching them squirm. It brings him a lot of joy. He knows he probably shouldn’t enjoy that, but he does, so I don’t know if that counts or not.

‘Ghost is also particularly fond of causing chaos and as much destruction as he can to the area around him.

For a more normal guilty pleasure, he.. enjoys showing everyone up when it comes to his college courses. Ghost is as smart as fuck.’

shrug emoji.

#trickstyr

[prettyfunkyunorganized]

Christmas Daughter Series - McCree

Just a little belated Christmas sweetness between McCree and his Juniper! Inspired by Jesse’s Christmas sweater spray that is FANTASIC!!! Relatively short. Hope you like it! 

More Daughter Series: Hanzo, Roadhog, Reaper, Soldier 76, Genji

McCree installments: part 2

Halloween Daughter Series: Roadhog, McCree, Genji,  Reaper

Daughter Series AU: McCree - Monster Hunter

Christmas Daughter Series: Reaper, Roadhog, Hanzo

Christmas at Gibraltar was usually pretty quiet – just a few people left behind who didn’t have plans. Mercy went to her hometown to volunteer, Lucio went home to see his siblings and Mama, Torbjorn and Reinhardt went to see the engineer’s massive family, even Genji and Zenyatta had somewhere to be. Tracer had flown Emily to the base, though, so they were here, snuggled up on the couch. Winston was sitting by the small fake tree, drinking cocoa with a smile on. The chipper young woman, Mei, had arrived a week ago and seemed thoroughly happy to be with everyone, smiling warmly as McCree came into the room.

“Merry Christmas, McCree,” she sang, offering him a steaming mug topped with marshmallows.

“Thank you kindly, Mei,” he replied taking the drink with a chuckle. “Aren’t you sweet, making us hot chocolate like this.”

She flushed and giggled, “It’s my specialty!”

“Well we are mighty lucky to have you here,” the cowboy said tipping his hat and taking a sip.

Winston raised his mug to McCree as he took a seat.

“Morin,’ Winston.”

“Good morning, McCree,” the scientist replied. “Is Juniper with you?”

“Nah, I thought I’d let her sleep in while she could,” Jesse said with a stretch.

“Has she been sleeping better,” Tracer asked.

“Yeah, better, but not great. Not yet,” McCree said dejectedly.

He looked over to the couple as Lena put her hand on the cowboy's arm reassuringly. Then he frowned. “Emily, are you in a . . . poop emoji onesie?”

“You bet your chaps I am,” the redhead smirked. “Lena’s is a mermaid!”

The brunette Brit flopped on a hood with a plush seashell crown, making McCree burst out laughing. “I see why our speed demon here is a mermaid, but why’d you get stuck bein’ the foul end of a meal, Em?”

“Because, according to my dad, ‘I’m a little shit for not coming home for the holidays,’ not that he’s actually mad. Just being a troublemaker,” Emily explained.

McCree chuckled, “Sounds like a good man.”

“One of the best,” Tracer said fondly. “We’re video chatting around 3, right?” Emily nodded.

“Juniper, Hanzo,” Mei was suddenly chiming, “Merry Christmas!”

The archer and Juni came through the door one after another, one looking cheerful, the other . . . not so much.

“Merry Christmas Mei,” the youngest member of the team said brightly. Hanzo only nodded, bypassing the hot chocolate and standing by an end table, slightly removed from the others. As usual.

“Well I’ll be,” McCree said smirking at the eldest Shimada. “Gotta admit, I’m pretty surprised you decided to join us, Hanzo.”

He shrugged. “Your daughter caught me in the hall and all but dragged me here.”

“I did not,” Juniper retorted pretending to kick Hanzo as she passed him, “you came of your own volition.”

Hanzo scoffed and gave her a look.

“Okay, maybe I did a bit of convincing, but it didn’t take much,” Juni admitted, sitting next to her father. McCree instantly wrapped his arm around her and pecked her forehead.

“Either way, we are very glad to have you, Hanzo,” Winton said graciously, warranting a slight nod from the archer.

“Maybe you shoulda left him in the hall,” McCree whispered in Juniper’s ear. “He doesn’t seem to have much holiday spirit.”

“Can you blame him? The guy probably spent a whole bunch of Christmases alone since . . . ya know. And now, he has his brother back, but still doesn’t get to be with him today,” Juniper murmured back. “I just didn’t want him to be stuck in his room all day all by his lonesome.”

“Aw, sweetpea,” McCree laughed, “you’re our very own Cindy Lou-Hoo.”

She giggled, “Someone’s gotta keep the peace ‘round here.”

“Should we do presents now,” Mei asked, joining the other Overwatch members around the holographic tree.

“Everyone’s here,” Tracer said stretching under her girlfriend’s snuggles, “let’s do it!”

There was a small exchanging of gifts – Winston, being the one in the leader role, had bought everyone a little something. Mei had got each person on the base a pair of incredibly warm mittens and a matching hat. Tracer and Emily had designed and programmed a cute little ornament for each team member that popped up on the fake fir. Juniper hand made a stack of Christmas cards, and McCree had bought all of them a bottle of their favorite booze – except for Winston who preferred some strange imported cherry drink. And Juni of course. She was too young and too special to just get a jug of liquor.

“And one more for you, my little lady,” McCree grinned, pulling a package from behind the couch.

“McCree,” she squealed excitedly, pushing her long brunette hair behind her ears. She had the best toothy smile. “This box is too big! I told you not to get me anything over the top.”

“Why would you tell your dad not to spoil you,” Emily joked.

“Because he was going to bury me in gifts,” Juniper sputtered. “What did you say? Ten gifts for every year you missed and ten for this year, too?”

The cowboy snickered, “Fifteen, honeydew, fifteen.”

“Which is ridiculous,” Juni reeled as everyone else laughed. Even Hanzo had a small smirk.

“What?! I got a lot of making up to do,” McCree chuckled.

“I’ve told you before you don’t have any making up to do,” she insisted.

“Maybe I just feel like smothering you then!” He wrangled her into a tight hug, planting about a hundred kisses on her as she squirmed half-heartedly to get away.

“Lemme go, McCree,” she gasped through her laughter.

“Only if you let me get ya as many presents as I want for yer birthday!”

“Okay, okay, you win!” McCree relented and let Juniper catch her breath before putting the gift back in her lap. “Now open it! Suspense is killin’ me.”

She bit her lip in excitedly and tore the paper from the box, whipping out her pocket knife to slice open the tape.

“You didn’t!”

“I sure did.”

“You gonna teach me how to keep it on all the time like you do? Through training simulations and combat practice?”

“Of course, my sweetpea.”

“What is it,” Lena shrieked impatiently.

McCree beamed as Juniper lifted up a cowgirl hat of her very own, less tattered and worn than her father’s, but otherwise very similar. Shiny buckle in the middle and all. Her face was just as thrilled as he felt.

The room was filled with a collective ‘aww’ as the young woman put the wide-brimmed hat on her head. “Perfect fit,” she grinned at McCree.

“There’s somthin’ else, too,” he said with a nod to the present.

“I told you one,” she snapped playfully.

“An’ I didn’t listen! Shoot me,” he said shoving her shoulder. “Just open the damn gift.”

Juniper adjusted her hat before digging through the white tissue paper. She gasped and burst out in giggles. With one quick hop, she was on her feet and holding a dress over her body.

“Jesse McCree, where on Earth did you find a dress that looks like a serape? And not just any serape, but your tattered old red one,” Lena gaped.

“The internet is a magical place,” he chuckled in response, watching as Juni swayed with a giant grin on. “You like it then,” he asked.

“I love it, McCree, I absolutely love it!” She flopped back into her seat and threw her arms around him, sighing contentedly into him. For once there wasn’t a ball of tension knotted between her shoulders.

“And I love you, sweetpea,” he murmured, holding her as long as he could, but Juniper pulled away quickly.

“Now you open yours,” she chimed, grabbing a red and green bag.

McCree was grinning ear to ear – it had been years since he’d had a Christmas present like this, not a generic one bought out of coworker obligation. And it was glorious. A puffy red and yellow sweater unfolded as he opened his present. Within 30 seconds he was laughing so hard he was crying. There were all the traditional ugly sweater adornments on it: stout little trees and triangles pieced together in a row and a chunky line pattern, but there was a little extra McCree flare, too. Bright gold Peacekeepers, a row of bullets, and a big ol’ ‘BAMF’ right in the middle made this knitted monstrosity one of a kind.

“Ah, honey,” he said trying to catch his breath, “this is the single best piece of clothing I’ve ever seen! How did you – ”

“Specialty order,” she answered before he could ask. “One of a kind, just like you.”

“Aren’t you just the sweetest,” he gushed, taking off his serape and slipping on the sweater.

“Is it comfy,” she asked tentatively.

“Damn! Is this fleece lined,” the cowboy marveled, rubbing his arms. Juniper nodded. “This thing is magical!”

“I’m glad you like it,” she said biting her lip and looking delighted, “and I’m glad it’s cozy, because it might not 100% one of a kind, but close.” McCree frowned in confusion and Juniper smirked. “Look, I may have loved yours so much I got myself a matching one.”

The entire room laughed again as Jesse pulled his daughter into a glomp saying, “That is the only way you could make this sweater better, honeybun!”

For the rest of the day, Juni and McCree were sporting matching tops and wide smiles. Juniper wore her dress at least once a week for the next few months while her hat ended up being more of a special occasion sort of thing, but the Overwatch members all knew she often wore it when she needed a pick me up and always wore it when her father was away. “To keep him close, no matter what.”

Tags: @watch-your-grammer @winchester-sonsandcastiel @envy-kitty

#mine #overwatch #writing #overwatch drabble #my drabble #drabble #mccree #juniper #winston #tracer #lena #hanzo #mei #daughter series #christmas #christmas daughter series