#the answer? a big ol shrug emoji

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

All the heart asks for Aelwen 👀

Aelwen, you say! Gosh, I ought to write another story with her, ay? I do so love her. But also, because I've only written one story about her and whatnot, I actually haven't developed her character a great deal, so this was a struggle to answer lol

❤️ RED HEART — what are three of your oc's positive traits?

Optimism, joy and faith.

🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits?

Stubbornness, very strong preference for her own company, self deprecating at times

💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your oc's negative traits?

Rudeness, impulsivity, antisocial behaviour

💘 HEART WITH ARROW — what and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them?

After her faith, Aelwen considers her special places to be the most important. If she came to her favourite waterfall to be alone and found someone else already there, for instance, she would not be happy.

🧡 ORANGE HEART — does your oc tend to prioritize family or friends?

Family, as she does not trust easily and has few, if any, real friends.

💛 YELLOW HEART — how many languages does your oc speak? what language(s) are they learning, if any?

Only English.

💚 GREEN HEART — does your oc prefer being inside or outside?

Outside all the way.

💙 BLUE HEART — does your oc have any cool/special powers and/or abilities? how are they with magic, if it exists in their world?

No magic, sorry!

💜 PURPLE HEART — what is your oc's ancestry/genetic background?

Big ol shrug emoji. A lot of the story is introspection and how she deals with a crisis of faith lol

🖤 BLACK HEART — has your oc killed or seriously wounded anyone before? have they broken someone's heart and/or broken someone's trust?

Nope.

#aelwen #story:hiraeth #suh #ask #the shenanigan herself #i actually love this ask game PLS send me more

[alittlebitmaybe]

wips

i literally just realized how many wips/story concepts i have. it’s 9. NINE. some have only plans and some have only concepts, but some have literally thousands of words behind them. i am making a post to try to hold myself accountable and also get my head on straight, since i haven’t managed to publish anything since the very start of august. (which is to say, unless you are dying to know what’s sitting in my unfinished scrivener drafts, you can keep scrolling!)

oldest to newest:

nowhere to go: sequel to all cooped up, and basically was going to be yenskier pwp until i realized i have no idea how to write an explicit sex scene, much less one that’s pwp. benched indefinitely.

these restless feet: aka “oxenfurt tryst” aka “monster of the week” aka “julian is about to hit the road to become jaskier when tragedy strikes and he stays in academia instead, while having anxiety and regrets, but he and geralt find each other anyway--just a little later than they would have otherwise” aka “this was supposed to be a character study and it grew plot”. the original draft of this has 20k words, but i thought it had too many ocs so i reworked it and got 6k words in, then i still didn’t feel right about it so i tried AGAIN and got like 4k words in. this has seen so many lives idek what’s going on with it anymore but i care deeply about a lot of the scenes and would love to get my shit together and finish it.

omnia mutantur: jaskier has the djinn wishes and accidentally wishes geralt human. didn’t make it far into this one but what i have is kinda cute.

deja reve: has one line in the file: “jaskier gets visions from destiny.” that’s it. that’s all i had but i made a file for it and titled it. ????

passerine: PLOT CITY. this one is about jaskier having to go undercover with the nilfgaardian army post-s1 because i WANTED IT and for no other logical reason. i OUTLINED this shit. god, there’s so much plot. no one wants to read this. i wrote 6700 words before i lost steam.

zombie au: no working title, weirdly enough. this fucking beast is sitting around 26k words and is not yet 3/4 done. in which there’s been a zombie apocalypse, geralt’s life got torn apart, his relationship with yen is complicated at best and fraught at worst, ciri has been missing for five years, and he’s just suffered another major loss. when he gets a lead on where ciri might be, he sets out to find her, and comes across a very obnoxious man in the woods who won’t leave him alone. what comes next will not surprise you in the slightest. (i am most likely to finish this. at least i hope i am. i am DETERMINED.) (WHY DO I KEEP WRITING THINGS WITH PLOT THAT’S WHY I NEVER FINISH ANYTHING)

wishing well: jaskier character study. he makes a wish at lettenhove in a funny looking pool and then he spends his life both chasing and running from his deepest desires. sitting at around 3k, will probably be 5kish when done (i’m actually sort of working on this rn!! low pressure!)

vassar au: aka i subject my liberal arts education experiences on the cast of the witcher. would be serialized, probably. i did nothing but come up with a list of stupid shit that happened while i was in undergrad that i could turn into dumb fic scenes. DO want to write this.

then there is one untitled file at the end that just says “jaskier falls for his friend ciri’s dad.” i made this because i came across a fic with this concept and read it and it was good but ended up not being what my brain Wanted when i read the concept. so i made a file to hold the concept in case i ever write it.

anyway there’s my pile of shame. good day to you all. WISH ME LUCK.

#my fic #i guess #i've gotta start scheduling time to write or i won't otherwise #bc schoolwork...is...so much #i also just vacillate wildly between believing i'm a somewhat competent writer to looking at my drafts like #'who would care about this' and 'how do plot' #the answer? a big ol shrug emoji

[hearttstopper]

A couple of days ago in a 1D group I’m in, someone posted a text from their friend who said they’d sat next to louis on a flight to London but didn’t realize it was him til they got off the flight. So I’ve been waiting to see if he’d pop up there but then people said they could head him in Jordan’s vid so I wasn’t sure.

well he’s certainly... somewhere, isn’t he!

#honestly i’m just a big ol shrug emoji #answered

[wiildhearrted]

Send me ✔ and I will bold my preferences for your muse!

Take your pick of gremlin

Send me ✔ and I will bold my preferences for your muse!

@jingledoms​

My muse(s): I can offer you but one gremlin

We’re gonna go with Kwang for your gremlin bc wings

Do I know your muse(s):  yes | no | a little | tell me about your muse

Setting: our verse | my verse | your verse | modern | alternate universe | other

Pre-established relationships? yes | no | depends on the relationship

Possible relationships: friends | classmate | co-worker | roommate | family, real or adopted | dating or blind date | married | friends with benefits | unrequited love | lending a hand | teacher - student | rivals | allies | partner-in-crime | enemies | protector - guarded | business partners | spy - infiltrated | manipulator - manipulated | star-crossed | first meeting | other

I’m in the mood for: fluff | angst | horror | romance | humor | crime | hurt / comfort | action | supernatural | slice of life | crack | dark threads | light threads | any genre | multi-para | shorter para | one-line | any length | plotted threads | unplotted threads | other

Feel free to: message me ooc | message me ic | tell me your ideas | write a starter | answer one of my opens | send a meme | reblog this with your preferences - let’s find common interests!

#;outofinstincts #;answered #jingledoms #BIG OL SHRUG EMOJI ALSKDJFA;LSKDFJ #TELL ME MORE ABOUT KWANG #but also like things are obvi subject to change this isnt an end all be all judgement #TALK TO ME ABOUT YOUR BOI #I ALSO JUST THINK PROTECTOR-GUARDED WOULD BE FUNNY #bc tiny nikki protecting him is just humorous to think about #BUT PEOPLE PROTECTING NIKKI?? EVEN FUNNIER SHE GETS SO ANGY

[askinfiniteofficial]

So when did you realized you had feelings for Gadget?

i was a wee lad, narry a penny to my name,

#askinfiniteofficial #ic #the og mod #((real answer: big ol shrug emoji)) #((i havent decided yet)) #anon

[kumkaniudaku]

Understanding

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17

Recommended Listening: Understanding x Xscape, Purple Emoji (ft. J. Cole) x Ty Dolla $ign, My World x Asian

Word Count: 2,137 

If you were going to win an award that afternoon, it’d be for attire, not confidence. Your expertly crafted golf outfit was the only thing willing your feet forward once you parked your car in front of Senior’s golf course.

Black women and men dressed like modern Jet magazine ads waltzed in and out of the clubhouse while you scanned the area for your party. You’d been to your fair share of golf courses, but none as exquisite as The National. Marble accents complemented modern brass finishes and unbeatable views of the city. The desire to take photos for your father was almost too much to shake, but you managed to play it cool. Acting out of place was surely some type of faux pas for the wealthy.

Across the way, Senior sat at the bar sipping a glass of water while thumbing through a newspaper. His furrowed brow was identical to Yahya’s whenever he was knee-deep in work or a good book. The mental comparison made you smile before ushering in a tinge of sadness. For two people so undeniably similar, they were miles apart physically and mentally.

You navigated through groups of young and old alike on the way to the bar.

“You made it on time,” Senior spoke without looking up from a story on education budget cuts.

“I made it with time to spare.”

“You don’t get praise for doing what’s right.”

“Think of how much better things would be if we did.”

Senior paused his reading to take a deep breath and shake his head. You mentally berated yourself for overstepping so soon. Not even five minutes into the outing and you had already committed an avoidable infraction

Yahya I prolonged the unbearable silence as he continued to read through another article, reading each line painstakingly slow while you watched in agony.

“I apologize. That was unnecessary.”

“I’ll ask you again,” he spoke, finally looking away from the newspaper to study your face. “Let’s leave the character right here. We’re here for a purpose, so grab your clubs and follow me to the first hole. I hope your game is as good as you are at running your mouth.” Taking his retort in stride, you quickly grabbed your set of clubs and followed with no objections. “After you.”

Senior found himself immediately impressed though he wouldn’t verbalize his feelings. He watched you breeze through each hole with near expert precision, opening a series of questions at hole 5 during casual small talk.

“Where’d you say you were from again?”

“A tiny town in South Carolina that you probably wouldn’t know.”

“Try me,” he answered while taking stock of his position on the fairway.

“Anderson, South Carolina. Home of Larry Nance and the great Chadwick Boseman.”

“Can’t forget James Kennedy, Young Lady.”

You cocked your head back in surprise. “What you know about Radio? I mean outside of what the movie says?”

Senior remained quiet long enough to take a hard swing. The loud “whiff” of his driver slicing through crisp, clean air didn’t match the stroke’s output. Both of you watch the golf ball sail high into the air before making a landing well short of the intended destination. Senior shook his head at the miscalculation before turning to answer your question.

“Black folks from all over are connected, even without all that Snapgram and Facebook foolishness.”

“I could argue it’s helped, right? How else would you be able to share your granddaughter’s first steps with the whole family?”

“In photo albums. You might not remember those, but they did us just fine.”

“Yeah, but it’s instantaneous conversation and information. Who wouldn’t want that?”

“Maybe instantaneous conversation is the problem. We aren’t making enough time to stop and really think about what we’re saying to each other.”

“Mm.” You let the conversation naturally taper before following Senior to his golf cart. The rolling hills provided enough scenery to keep you interested while you sorted the words in your head.

“I think we may have started off on the wrong foot.” You spoke once the cart came to a full stop. Senior trailed behind in silence, gathering a new club while watching you examine the other golfers in the area.

“You’re rather observant.”

You chuckled and plucked a club from your bag. “I’ve been told. Yahya calls me Eagle Eye when I catch something he’s already talked about ten minutes ago.”

“It’s what his Big Mama used to call his Pop-Pop for the same thing. That man was notoriously late to the punchline.” The nostalgia in Yahya I’s voice caught you off guard though he didn’t see your minor fumble. Something in his retelling appealed to your sense of compassion in a way that you considered long gone when it came to him.

“Let’s not beat around the bush. You have an issue with my presence that we should discuss. Because I can assure you, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Bold,” Senior responded with a sarcastic laugh. He gestured to nothing in particular as you squared up to take a swing and nodded. “And direct. Continue.”

You took a moment to hit a line drive toward the green in the distance, using the movement as an outlet for the unexpected nerves churning your stomach. Both of you quietly watch the golf ball for its final resting place before you turned to speak.

“You are extremely hard to please, and it is literally ruining your family. Yahya does everything in his power, and, excuse my French, you don’t seem to give a fuck. Why is that?”

“What makes you think that my love isn’t what makes me push him to be the best that he can? It may not be the fluff and frills you’re used to in your home, but it’s what he needs to get him to his potential.”

“Did it help you?”

Senior mistakenly allowed a quick moment of confusion to take over his features. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You tell me. When’s the last time you enjoyed a laugh with your family or felt like you could just...be? You’re carrying a weight that is crushing the people around you, and you don’t even see it.”

“You don’t…” Senior caught his words and bottled them behind his lips. He took a deep breath as he approached his golf ball and took a half-hearted swing. Noticing his misstep, he shook his head. “I’m from Baton Rouge, Louisiana. My father, Yahya’s Pop-Pop, moved my mother and me to a shotgun shack to find work when things weren’t quite shaking out back home. He was in and out of trouble and such. Couldn’t get right, but he had a natural knack for building and design.”

A nearby group of golfers erupted into laughter, helping to break up some tension.

“So architecture’s been in the family for a while,” you asked. Yahya I curled the corner of his lips into a far-off smile.

“A long, long time. It got us out of that shack when my siblings came along and into a house with our own rooms and a backyard. But, my father was a hard man. Hard to please, you know,” he laughed, making a reference to your earlier words. “He wanted the best from me, and he made damn sure he got it. I needed that to get my head out of the clouds.”

“You also needed some reassurance.”

“Perhaps. But, what’s done is done. I look at what I’ve built with no complaints, especially when it comes to my boys. I couldn’t be more proud of the men they’ve become.”

Senior’s proud smile almost looked foreign on his face. You’d never seen more than an indifferent expression or the slight twinge of anger smoldering behind his eyes.

Leaning on your club, you kept your eyes forward to gaze out over the course.

“Yahya would love to hear that. I don’t know if you know this, but he is desperately searching for your approval. There is not enough praise from me or anyone else that could replace knowing that you’re proud of him. Yet, as much as he would like to tell you these things himself, he’s afraid that you’ll think less of him for being vulnerable.”

“I could never think less of the boy. Tough love is still love.”

“Maybe for you,” you added, shrugging. “But, what good is continuing this cycle if it’s hurting the children you claim to love and the grandchildren after them?”

Senior dropped his head in thought before looking up with an unreadable expression. “Deuce will be fine. He’s all the best parts of his mother. I...I’m confident he’ll figure out fatherhood on his own despite my shortcomings. We raised him well.”

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping -”

“That has never stopped you before, young lady.” His light-hearted chuckle invited you to follow suit.

“Fair point,” you laughed. “So, let me cut to the chase. Allowing Yahya to just ‘figure things out’ is a passive existence. Yahya says you’re constantly reminding him to take things into his own hands. Sounds like you should take your own advice. Be the parts of your father that you needed at 33.”

Instead of acknowledging your advice, Senior twirled his club in his hand on the way to the golf cart. He maintained an impenetrable poker face that even the most skilled readers couldn’t interpret. You silently hoped that at least some of your words had made it through his thick skull, but you chose to let the discussion meet a natural end.

As he started the cart, Senior turned to you and smiled. “How the hell you learn to swing like that? I know it wasn’t in Anderson.”

“Hey, we play a little golf here and there!”

“Where? Out in the woods?”

“No, out in the Bayou like you did.”

A small smirk crept across your face as Yahya I chuckled at your joke. He sounded identical to Yahya, full of mirth and beautiful melodies.

“The ole Bayou,” he repeated in a thick accent. “You ain’t seen a place more beautiful in your life.”

“Maybe Yahya and I could visit one day.”

He quickly looked over and shrugged. “Maybe. For now, you focus on defending this lead. I think I’m getting back into my rhythm.”

Senior couldn’t make a convincing comeback, but he did show glimpses of a softer, more personable disposition. He cracked jokes on occasion and asked questions that turned the conversation from a therapy session to banter between associates. Your mind traveled to the possibility of civil family dinners or vacations during the ride home. Though it seemed silly to create imaginary scenarios after one conversation, you couldn’t help the urge to see a better future.

Your happiness helped you float into your shared apartment, making Yahya smile when he caught a glimpse of your wide grin and short skirt.

“Damn, girl,” he hollered from the couch with Leche cradled in his arms. “If Tiger was out there cheeked up like that, I might’ve paid a little more attention to the golf network.”

“Oh, really?”

Your raised eyebrow made Yahya kiss his teeth once he caught on to the joke. “You know what I meant. Where you been anyway?”

“Oh, I was just out doing a little golfing...with your dad.”

“Right. That was today, huh?”

Even Yahya’s best attempt at feigning interest, his question came out in a flat drone typically used on annoying coworkers. You dropped your purse and keys against a nearby barstool on the way to his spot on the couch.

“It was today. I think we had a good time,” you answered as you slid your arms around his neck from behind, placing a gentle kiss behind his ear. “He didn’t yell at me.”

“You must’ve kissed his ass the entire time.”

“No. We talked about how great I am at golf. I mean, I kicked his ass.”

“Good on you, baby girl. Bring honor to our house.” In a surprise maneuver, Yahya pulled you over the couch and into the space beside him. “Is that all?”

Silence blanketed the room, allowing the college basketball game in the background to have center stage. You considered your options carefully, weighing the pros of a potential argument against a peaceful Saturday indoors. Yahya turned his attention back to the television as he waited for a response.

“Did you hear me, baby? He didn’t say anything rude to you, did he?”

“No!” You blurted. Taking a deep breath, you slowly slid the remote off the coffee table and pressed the power button. Yahya blinked twice at his reflection on the black television screen before turning to you for answers. Your fingers danced across his thighs to interlock with his long digits.

“I think...I think we need to have a real talk about your dad.”

----

A/N: I hope this is better late than never. Only two more chapters left! Really striving to have those to y’all by the end of the month.

Let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged!

@earthformelanin @mufasathatniggatho @hidden-treasures21@justanotherloveaffair @jozigrrl @essaysbyciara @chaneajoyyy@determinednot2fall @honey-lamb-k @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @walkrightuptothesun @ghostfacekill-monger @trillistb@shaekingshitup @purplehairgawdess @xo-goldengirl@steampunkprincess147 @twistedcharismaaa @fandomfavesss@bugngiz @lifelover4u @ljstraightnochaser @l-auteuse @itsjustyazz@energy-innerg @lahuttor @sagittariusroyalty@chrisgalore @grandadchadwick​ @blowmymbackout​@supersizemeplz​ @just-peachee​ @itskikilove​ @eyeknowmywrites​ @aanairb​ @blackburnbook​ @leahnicole1219​ @lovedersha​ @cant-decide-at-this-moment​ @jasmindaughteroftheworld​

#Yahya Abdul Mateen II #Yahya Abdul-Mateen II #yahya abdul mateen ii fan fiction #yahya abdul mateen ii fic

[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!

[negasonicteenagemess]

sunflower soulmate peter parker imagine

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Request:  Hi I’m not sure if you are still taking requests and this is my first request. Can you write a Peter Parker one where the reader and him are best friends and during the school day she grabs his hand and starts doodling on it. And idk he asks her out and they kiss or something. Please and Thank You

No FFH Spoilers 

I made it a soulmate thing, I hope that’s alright. Also it’s eight in the morning and I haven’t slept so editing is sub par 

masterlist

“In Greek mythology,” Y/N explained as she licked the ice cream off her spoon. “Humans had four arms, four legs and two faces. Zeus was afraid of the power that they had so, he split them in half.”

Her friends sat at the table in the ice cream shop around her, stunned by the information. “Woah,” Peter whispered, as he scooped more of the frozen treat onto his spoon.

“That’s dark,” MJ stated, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Y/N nodded in agreement, cleaning her mouth with a napkin, “yeah, so they’d spend the rest of their lives looking for each other. It’s sad.”

“Some people now think that your soulmate shares the same atoms as you but were kinda split during the big bang or something,” Ned furthered, playing with his spoon.

MJ scoffed, “the idea of soulmates as a whole seems just plain ole sad.” Peter decided to interject with his opinion, “I don’t think it’s sad. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world, knowing that someone is completely in love with you and devoted to only you. It’s amazing.”

Ned chuckled, “okay Peter, no need to get sappy on us.” His three friends laughed as his cheeks turned red.

“It’s cute though,” Y/N teased, taking another spoonful of ice cream. His cheeks only got redder at the comment.

He froze when he heard sirens down the street. “Um, I just forgot, May needed me to… go shopping. I gotta go. See ya tomorrow,” he grabbed his backpack and ran out before any of them could reply.

“He’s so weird,” MJ stated as she finished off her ice cream. “Yeah,” Y/N agreed absentmindedly.

On the walk home from the ice cream shop, Y/N couldn’t help but think about her soulmate. Would he be tall? Does he live in New York? Is he cute? As all of these thoughts crossed her mind, she watched as bruises formed on her knuckles.

This has been a common thing recently, getting her soulmates cuts and bruises. They didn’t last very long and didn’t hurt much but in Y/N’s mind, she thought he was either a cop or in some weird fight club. Hopefully a cop though.

All of her previous questions were obviously left unanswered as she opened the door to her apartment. She went to do her homework, finishing it so she didn’t have to stay up all hours of the night. She contemplated for a moment as she did the school work before taking her pen and etching something across her hand.

Whenever her soulmate gave the two of them bruises, she’d doodle around the markings with more peaceful things, and most of the time it was flowers. She drew stems all around her knuckles, with cute little squiggles of sunflowers all around.

She capped the pen, extending her hand to admire her work. Y/N felt like something was missing from it, so she uncapped her pen and wrote a little note.

stay safe :)

She didn’t expect a reply, but she soon felt a small pressure on her hand, right under where she wrote.

always try <3

She beamed at the response as butterflies filled her stomach. Definitely something a person in a fight club wouldn’t say.

Her phone vibrated from the place on the bed soon after her small encounter with her soulmate. It was a text from Peter.

hey wanna come over later to watch a movie or something?? They just added a bunch of stuff on netflix

Y/N smiled, quickly typing on the small screen.

yeah sure!! i’ll bring the popcorn. what time?

She sat patiently, waiting for her best friend to respond to the message.

twenty minutes okay with you? He texted back. Y/N replied with a thumb’s up emoji, already putting all of her school stuff away. She switched into her pj’s, as it was tradition for the two of them to wear night clothes to their movie marathons.

She stood in the mirror, messing with her hair and lost in her thoughts. She always thought Peter was cute, but she knew somewhere in her heart that it was wrong to think of someone like that who wasn’t her soulmate.

Y/N sighed, washing off the ink she had previously written so she wouldn’t have to explain it all to Peter. She was secretive about her soulmate, enjoying the fact that it was something only the two of them shared.

As if her soulmate had the same idea, the ink that he had written was slowly disappearing. She dried her hands and decided it was time to go to her friend’s house.

She walked through her apartment and went to the kitchen in search of the microwavable popcorn. Grabbing a couple bags, she left her home and went to the door across from hers, knocking a few times.

The cheerful face of Peter Parker appeared. He was clad in grey sweatpants and a blue Midtown shirt. “Hey,” he greeted with a smile, opening the door for her to step through. “Hi,” she replied back, waving the bags of popcorn in her hand as she walked into the Parker residence. “I would’ve made them at my place, but I was just so excited to see you,” she commented sarcastically.

Peter chuckled, grabbing the bags from her hand, “well the excitement is reciprocated as it is an absolute joy to see you again.”

Y/N laughed at his fake posh voice, plopping down on the couch as he made the popcorn. “Is May here?” She asked as she scrolled through her phone mindlessly.

“Nah, she had to work,” he replied, popping noises coming from his microwave. “Do you want something to drink?” He shouted from the fridge.

“Water please,” she replied, dragging out the last word. Peter soon appeared next to her with arms full of candy and two hands filled with drinks. A glass of water and a can of coke.

“Ya know they used to put cocaine in that shit,” she stated, sipping the clear liquid. Peter, already in the kitchen, scoffed, “no they didn’t.”

“They did. Coca is the plant that makes cocaine. Look it up,” she teased as he stayed silent for a minute.

“Oh shit,” he muttered as google answered his question. “Wasn’t that like, illegal or something?”

“I don’t know man. The 1900s were a weird time,” she stated as he came back with a big bowl of popcorn.

He turned the tv on, going straight to Netflix. “Scott Pilgrim?” He asked, shoveling popcorn in his mouth. Y/N turned to look at him at the strangeness, and he mirrored her actions. “Scott Pilgrim?” He questioned again; his mouth full and a playful tone gracing his voice. She laughed and nodded her head as he coughed from laughing, and choking, as well.

“You’re an idiot,” she giggled, her throat feeling itchy for some reason, but she ignored it.

He drank his soda, making sure to clear his throat, “shut up.” He was blushing. Y/N shook her head as he started the movie, acting as if nothing just happened.

“Can you imagine that?” Peter asked halfway through the film, tossing a piece of popcorn in his mouth. Y/N quirked a brow as she took a handful of candy, “what?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “living in a universe where you don’t have a soulmate.” Y/N let out a breath, “sounds rough. Finding love on your own and all.” He nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his coke.

As the second movie they watched progressed, Y/N completely forgot the title of it as her eyes got more and more droopy. By the time the movie ended, the popcorn was long gone with all of the candy and she was asleep against Peter’s shoulder.

He looked at her longingly before letting out a sigh and wrapping his arm around her. “This universe is a nightmare,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. He heard a jingle of keys before the door to the apartment opened revealing May.

“Hey Peter,” she greeted loudly, placing her purse on a nearby table. May looked at her nephew to see him holding a finger to his lips. “Oh, is she asleep?” She asked quietly, walking towards the boy and his friend.

He nodded his head before diverting his attention back to the girl next to him, as she moved a bit in her sleep. May looked between Peter and Y/N, understanding the look in his eyes was eerily similar to the look her late husband used to give her.

“You like her, don’t you?” She questioned with a smirk, leaning on the back of the couch. His eyes widened as he immediately went to deny her claims. But when he saw the look on her face, he knew he couldn’t lie.

“I-I,” he sighed as he tried to piece his thoughts together, “I can’t. And I shouldn’t, but I just can’t help it, May. She’s always there for me.”

His eyes were glossy as he let out a breath, glad to finally express how he feels. “I don’t know what it is about her. She’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”

May smiled, remembering the feeling, “even better than Spider-Man?” Peter let out a soft chuckle, careful not to wake the girl up.

“I would give up being Spider-Man any day just for her,” he stated quietly, brushing the hair off of her face.  

“But I can’t do this to my soulmate. It’s wrong. And I don’t know what to do,” his voice wobbled as he wiped his free hand over his face.

May put a supportive hand on his shoulder, “you just gotta wait Pete. You’ll meet your soulmate one day and the stars will align. You’ll love her and realize that is the greatest feeling in the world.”

She had a twinkle in her eyes as she spoke, remembering when she met Ben. Peter nodded his head in agreement, trying to convince himself more than anything.

“Thanks, May,” he whispered with a tight smile, looking at his Aunt as he spoke. “It’s what I’m here for,” she joked, patting his shoulder.

“Well,” she started, letting out a sigh, “I’m heading to bed. Work killed me and it’s only 10.” Peter nodded, acknowledging her statement.

“And make sure she gets home,” she said sternly, but not harshly. “Will do, May,” he replied, “goodnight.”

“Night, Pete,” she stated as she finally went to her bedroom.

He ran a hand through his hair once again, struggling with his inner thoughts. “One day,” he muttered to himself, “one freaking day.”

Y/N moved again, rubbing her eyes as she awoke from her slumber. “Shit, I slept through the movie, didn’t I?” She asked, getting out of Peter’s arms and leaning forward on the couch.

He chuckled, trying to forget everything he just spoke about, “yeah. You really missed out. Keanu Reeves looked great, as always.”

She shook her head, “damn.” Her eyes met his as she snickered at the encounter. Pulling out her phone, she noticed the time. “Shit, I gotta go,” she stated as she locked her phone but held it in her hand.

He nodded his head, “right.” He stood up, her following in his footsteps. “I can stay for a little bit to help you clean up,” she directed to the mess they made, empty rappers and popcorn kernels everywhere.

“Nah, you got to get your beauty sleep,” he stated sarcastically but continued to direct her to the front door. “I’ll take care of it, don’t worry,” he smiled as he opened the door.

“Walk together to school tomorrow?” She asked as she made it to her front door, opening it while looking eyes with Peter, who stood at his doorway. “Always,” he smiled, leaning against the white frame.

Y/N nodded, leaning in her own doorway, “bye Peter.” She smiled, holding tightly on the handle.

“Adios,” he replied with a smile, finally shutting the door. Y/N did the same, brushing her teeth then going straight to bed.

She drifted off into a deep slumber as the moonlight illuminated her room and the sound of cars was still noticeable every now and then.

The next day, she woke up bright and early to get ready for school. She left her home and met up with Peter in the hallway and a couple train stops later, they made it to Midtown.

“And Ned broke the whole thing,” Peter explained, making Y/N laugh as he held the school door open for her. “Of course he did,” she giggled as the bell rang.

“Right on time,” he stated, walking with Y/N to their first class, Chemistry. “I heard that we have a long ass assignment or something today,” she remarked, pulling at the straps of her backpack.

Peter groaned, “can Mrs. Smith ever give us a break?” Y/N shook her head, “she’s a horrid woman, I tell you.”

As teenagers rushed to get to their classes in the hall, the two friends made it to Chemistry fairly quickly. The late bell rang, the two friends seated right next to each other as always as Mrs. Smith began to explain what the students would be doing that day.

She finished the instructions and students began to open their textbooks. Y/N and Peter did the same, doing the assignment for the bulk of the class period. Being the studious teenagers they were, the pair was able to be one of the first groups to finish.

Y/N took Peter’s hand, laying it on the table before her. “Can I draw on your hand?” She asked sweetly, bored out of her mind and taking her pen as she was ready to start her masterpiece. “Yeah sure,” Peter replied, tapping away on his phone.

“You know,” he started, “you can be such a kid sometimes.” Y/N shrugged her shoulders, starting to draw around his knuckles. Flowers upon flowers seemed to bloom on his hand.

One of her hands held down Peter’s as the other created the work of art. His eyes drifted from his phone to his hand, watching the beauty appearing across his skin. He had a small smile as he watched her etch the flowers upon his knuckles.

Peter’s eyes shifted to the hand that held his down. He froze, jaw slacked, and eyebrows raised. He looked between his hand and hers. Small sunflowers began to appear on her hand, the exact same that were on his own.

“Holy shit,” he spoke suddenly, shocking Y/N and causing her to leave a sharp line down his hand with her pen. ”Awe man,” she slumped her shoulders as she examined the mistake, “I really liked it.”

Her voice was filled with slight sadness at the mark, but she just shrugged, “we can fix it though. It’ll be fine.” She looked up at Peter, giving him a soft smile, but frowned when she saw his face still full of surprise.

“Pete I can just get rid of it-“ she wanted to apologize but he cut her off. “No, Y/N listen,” he laughed, but not with humor, but because this was actually happening to him.

He grabbed the hand that held his down and looked deeply into her eyes. “I-I can’t believe it,” he whispered, all of this still not settling in his brain. Y/N furrowed her brows, giving him a strange look, “what?”

Squeezing her hand, he chuckled nodding towards their joined hands, “look.” Y/N’s eyes fell, examining the marks. “Oh my god, she whispered as she traced the marks on her hand with the other one.

She looked between the marks on her hand versus Peter’s, where she actually created the doodles. They were the exact same, the flowers and that stupid line where she messed up. It was all the same. She covered her mouth with the empty hand, laughing lightly.

“It’s you,” she gushed. He nodded his head, “yeah. The likelihood, huh?”

Y/N was speechless, making it so that both of her hands covered his. She bit her lip, “I had a crush on you, you know? I thought you were the cutest boy in our hall.”

At that Peter chuckled, “I’m the only other person in our entire complex who’s your age.”

Y/N hit him on the shoulder lightly, “that’s not the point.” He looked at her, letting out a sigh, “I had, or well have a crush on you too.”

He gave her a tight smile, “why does this feel so awkward?” Y/N laughed at the comment, brushing a hand through her hair as she leaned on the other.

“It’s only awkward when you say it’s awkward Pete,” she stated. He just shrugged his shoulders, taking his hands away and rubbing them together from the coldness of the classroom.

“So,” he dragged out, “d-do you want to go on a date with me sometime?” He was so nervous because of the fact that he wasn’t just asking any girl out on a date. He was asking his best friend, his soulmate.

Y/N sighed dramatically, “I don’t know, do I have to?” Her sarcastic remark made Peter smile widely.

“I’d love to,” she replied for real this time, picking up her pen. “Now,” she continued, “time to finish my art.” He smiled, watching her finish her drawing as she proceeded to doodle away, not wanting to take his eyes off her anytime soon.

Class soon ended, so the newly found soulmates had to separate. It wasn’t as hard as it seemed, but in the next period, they couldn’t stop thinking about each other.

Peter would write things on his arm for her to read, away from the flowers as he wanted to keep those for as long as he could.

Woods is falling asleep on his desk read one of the little notes, plus a drawing of a horribly drawn teacher asleep.

Y/N sat in her desk, thinking about her soulmate. Like, why did Peter get bruises and cuts all the time? And why so late at night? He wasn’t a cop, like she originally thought. Was Peter in a fight club?

No, sweet little Peter Parker could NOT be in a fight club. That’s impossible.

The rest of the day went by fairly quickly, Peter and Y/N seeing each other as often as possible. By the time the last bell rang, Y/N couldn’t wait to walk home with Peter. And that’s exactly what they did. This time was different though, because they weren’t deemed as best friends anymore, but as soulmates. So, they talked about their day at school, holding hands and as their shoes scratched the pavement.

After taking the subway, they arrived at their building. They stood in the apartment building’s hall, Y/N biting her lip as she debated her next moves.

“Screw it,” she whispered, grabbing Peter’s face with her hands. He looked like he was about to speak but stayed silent at the feeling of her lips on his own.

His eyes closed as his hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer to him and never wanting to let go. But there was one thought that crossed his mind. Finally, after years and years of being in love with his best friend, he was able to kiss her as his soulmate.  

It felt like Zeus was throwing lightning bolts around his body as the feeling of her feathery light lips against his rough ones made him ecstatic. She pulled away slowly, opening her eyes as she moved her hands around his neck. “S-Sorry,” she stumbled, her cheeks red.

Peter shook his head and whispered, “don’t be.” She looked deep into his eyes as he leaned in to kiss her again. Her lips tasted like the lip balm she always uses, the taste suddenly becoming one of his favorites.

He was consumed in the warmth that was Y/N L/N, and he couldn’t get enough. But all good things must come to an end, and she pulled her lips from his.

“Walk me to school tomorrow?” She asked breathlessly with a smirk. He laughed lightly, leaning his head onto her shoulder as he did so. “Always,” he looked up at her with a smile.

He gave her a peck on the lips before she began pulling away. “See you then,” she gave a little wave as he nodded his head. She shut the door to her home, biting her lip as she walked to her room.

Peter, on the other hand ran though his apartment door, slamming the door shut in search of his Aunt.

“May,” he shouted as he ran around, looking for the Italian woman. She stood in the kitchen and looked at him with an amused look of confusion. “Woah, easy there. What’s up?” She asked, taking note of the starstruck look on his face.

“I-I found my soulmate,” he beamed as he dropped his backpack onto the tile floor. Her eyes widened as she stopped washing the dishes.

She ran and hugged him, “oh my god, that’s amazing! What’s her name? When can I meet her?” She pressed with questions as she pulled away to look at her nephew. He chuckled lightly, moving his hands to hold her back.

“You won’t believe it,” he grinned, shaking his head as he still couldn’t believe it himself. May scrunched her brows, eyes examining his features, “what do you mean?”

“It’s Y/N,” the gaze in his eyes as he spoke was love struck, May squealing and pulling him into a tight hug yet again.

#peter parker #spider-man #spiderman #marvel #spider-man ffh #far from home #spiderman far from home #listen to death of me by unlike pluto #unrelated but it's good #tom holland #peter parker imagine #tom holland imagine #spiderman imagine #marvel imagine #peter parker x reader #tom holland x reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker smut #tom holland smut #spiderman smut #soulmate #soulmate imagine #peter parker fic #tom holland fic #spiderman fic

[buckleysjareau]

you feel like the perfect escape now

"In the symbolic language of jewels, a sapphire in a wedding ring means marital happiness."

or

Eddie planning his proposal with the help of Hen and Karen. Featuring good ol' Buck and Chimney banter, soft and in love boyfriends, and tooth rotting fluff.

part two of three in my series ‘cause i’m not too far and you’re my favorite place on ao3

Eddie Diaz was never the type of guy to actually think about marriage. He’ll sound horrible saying it, but he didn’t really think about his marriage to Shannon. He loved her, he’s loved her since their third date when they were caught in the rain and instead of freaking out, she grabbed Eddie’s hand, dragged him out from the shelter and spun them around, head falling back in happy, care-free laughter. He loved her when she told him, with tears in her eyes, that she was pregnant. He loved her as she walked down the aisle with a grin on her face, carelessly happy. He loved her when she gave birth to their world.

But he never thought about it as it happened. When she’d told him she was pregnant, after he got over the initial excitement, his first thought was oh, we should probably get married now. Before that, it never occurred to him that he would ever marry Shannon, even though he loved her.

It was different with Buck.

Realizing he wants to marry Buck, not because he should but because it’s the only thing he can think of when he goes to sleep at night and when he wakes in the morning. He realizes the difference in the thought when it comes to planning his proposal to Buck and how he treated Shannon’s proposal.

He loved Shannon, but he was never in love with her. The thought sends an uncomfortable amount of guilt through him, but he hears Buck’s voice in his ear saying, you can’t help who you fall in love with.

Not exactly what he meant when he said it but it helped Eddie shake a lot of the guilt.

He was wholeheartedly, one-hundred percent, completely, utterly and stupidly in love with Evan Buckley.

The second it struck him how much he not just wanted, but needed to marry Buck, he couldn’t wait a second longer to start planning it. 

The first thing he has to do before he even starts planning anything, though, is ask Christopher if he would be okay with him marrying Buck. He knows his kid loved Buck more than life, but sometimes he’s scared that Chris will think that if he marries him, he’ll be replacing Shannon.

When it happens that Buck and his schedules don’t line up, he takes Christopher to lunch at his favorite place and asks. 

“Christopher, can I ask you a really important question?”

He giggles when his son looks up from his triple chocolate pancakes with whipped cream and chocolate already covering his mouth. “What is it, dad?”

“Abuela’s gonna kill me for letting you order all of this sugar.” He shakes his head as he smiles before he clears his throat. “You know how before Buck and I got together, I asked what you’d think about it?”

“I said I loved my Buck and got really excited.”

“That’s right! Well, Christopher, how would you feel if I asked your Buck to marry me?”

Chris’ smile grows immediately. “You’re gonna marry Bucky?”

“If that’s alright with you.” He smirks.

“Yes! Yes!” 

His heart soars. He was really going to ask Evan Buckley to marry him. 

After he texts Hen for her help and the twenty texts he receives of her freaking out in the language of keyboard smash, he tries to plan it. Keyword: tries.

From Hen;

Alright, alright diaz-buckley, how do you plan to do this

To Hen;

I have no clue!!! That’s why i asked for your help to research and what not. I’m not Buck, i’m not good at research or whatever

Also

*future diaz-buckley, we’re not married YET

From Hen;

boy... you’re in love in love huh

Your boy is sitting right across from me 

*photo attachment*

What’s he smiling at eddie?

To Hen;

Probably dog videos 

Now helllllppppppppppppp

From Hen;

You were right. A golden retriever looking at videos of golden retrievers

Patient, diaz! 

Got a call, we’ll talk later

To Hen;

Tell buck to be careful!

You too obviously

bu t you know what I mean 

He doesn’t know why he thought he could get anything done regarding the proposal through text. That’s how Hen and him were, they had never been able to stay on one conversation at a time when texting. There was one time when Hen had asked him for a recipe Buck wouldn’t give her, followed by a text about a playdate with Denny, and a text asking his high score in Candy Crush. He responded to say he’d ask him and send it and continued the conversation. Talk of playdates turned into talks of weirdest calls, talk of high scores in Candy Crush turned to talk of modern technology and so on. By the time Hen stopped responding, presumably because Karen got home, Eddie realized he’d never given her the recipe. 

It was different in person, they could sit for hours and talk about the same thing. He cherishes any conversation with Hen, though. He cherishes their friendship so much. Next to Buck, Hen was his best friend. 

That’s why he couldn’t think to ask anyone better to help him plan the next step in his life with the man that he loves.

From Hen;

Heads up, your boys in a sour mood 

Dont worry though because ik you are!

Im sure a nice cuddle from his soon to be fiance will do the trick

To Hen;

Why shouldnt I worry? An hour ago you sent me pic of him smiling 

Now hes in a bad mood? Something happened

Hennnnnnnnn tell me what happppppennnnnneddddd

What was the call

im bored and worried 

From Buck; 

Can I stay the night? Ill bring wine and chinese <22222

<4444

To Buck;

You okay there babe? Haha

You never have to ask 

Or bribe me with food and alcohol

But i will accept it <3

From Buck;

You know i hate texting don’t judge me!

See you in 10 love love love you <3

Eddie’s worried. Buck practically lived at the Diaz’s, he never had to ask to stay the night and he knew that. All Hen had sent back was the shrug emoji so he was on his own to figure out why.

As promised, Buck walks in ten minutes later with two bags of chinese food and a bottle of white wine. He seemed tense, but when he sees Eddie in his presence, he can automatically see his whole body relax. 

“I hate when we’re not on shift together.” Buck says in lieu of a greeting. He places the wine and food on the coffee table in front of them before he plops down next to Eddie.

He leans into Eddie’s touch, instantly lying his head on Eddie’s chest and closes his eyes.

Eddie smiles down at his boyfriend, automatically moving to run a hand through his curls, wrapping the other arm around Buck’s chest. “Me too. I missed you today. So did Chris.”

“I missed you both like crazy today. I can’t wait to just cuddle up to you and fall asleep.” He mumbles. “You’re my world.”

Even after all of this time, Buck can still make Eddie blush like it’s nothing.

He presses his lips to Buck’s forehead. “And you’re mine.” 

It stays quiet after that until Eddie’s stomach growls, startling Buck into sitting upright in laughter. 

“I think it’s time to eat, huh?” 

“You’d be right.” 

Buck gets up and gets two wine glasses from the kitchen. The way in which Buck walks so comfortably around his home will never fail to bring a kaleidoscope of butterflies to his stomach. He knows where everything is and he knows how everything works and it feels empty when he’s not there. 

Eddie turns on the TV and picks a random station that’s playing reruns of a cop show he’d seen here and there. Eddie and Buck’s legs are interlaced and resting on the coffee table, food in their laps when things settle. The ease on Buck’s face makes him wonder why he was even worried in the first place.

They don’t talk as they eat their food and sip their wine. They just take in each other’s company as they watch what’s on in front of them, perfectly content in just being together. 

Buck’s phone rings from the coffee table. When he lets it ring through to voicemail without even looking at ID, Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you the one who said you should answer every phone call because it might be important? Or are you just a clone of my boyfriend?”

Buck snorts. “I know it’s not important.”

It starts to ring again and Eddie sees Maddie’s name flash on the screen. “It sounds important.”

“I promise you it’s not.” 

Then she calls a third time and Buck groans. “Fine, fine. I’ll answer.” 

He doesn’t leave the room, doesn’t make any effort to grab his phone, just sits back and pouts as Eddie hands him his phone. 

He listens to Buck’s side of the conversation closely. He’s talking about not wanting to go somewhere because he doesn’t know if someone is going to be at that place and he doesn’t want to risk it. Hm.

“I was having a nice, relaxing night with Eddie before you called about something you knew the answer to, so if you��ll excuse me, I’d love to get back to that.” He throws his phone onto his lap after he hangs up, then smiles sheepishly. “Any chance you can ignore that?”

“If you don’t want to talk about it right now, that’s perfectly okay. But we do have to talk about it eventually. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you snap at Maddie, so something must have happened.”

Buck cuddles back into Eddie’s chest, revelling in his arm comfortably wrapped around his shoulders. “It’s really not a big deal, Eds. It’s just stupid.”

“Well, lucky for you, I like hearing everything you have to say. Even if it’s stupid.” 

“Did you just boop my nose?” 

“And what about it?”

All Eddie feels is the shaking from Buck’s giggling. “Shit, whoever decided I was good enough to have you in my life is someone I’d like to meet because...man, I love you.”

“Hi, nice to meet you.” Eddie smirks.

Buck hides his face in the nook of his neck. “Stop making me blush.”

“Never.”

It’s quiet again after that until Buck finally talks. “So, uh…”

“Yeah?”

“I got a wedding invitation in the mail today. It’s from my cousin, she’s getting married in Los Angeles so she invited Maddie and me. We get along just fine, always have, but I haven’t talked to her in a few years and now Maddie thinks it’s completely necessary to actually go to her wedding. I just don't know if I want to risk going and have them be there as well, you know?”

“Your parents?”

“Who else?”

“Well think about it this way. If the risk of seeing your parents again was out of the equation, would you want to go?”

Buck sighs. “Of course I would. It’d be nice to see her again and have a good time, but Eds… you know how my parents are.”

It’s true, he did know how his parents were. He remembers when they’d come to Los Angeles when they found out their first grandchild had been born. He remembers how tense Buck had been the entire time, how he let his parents walk all over him and tell him how big of a failure he was like it was a normal day to day conversation. He especially remembers yelling at Buck’s father after a particularly barbaric comment on Buck’s lifestyle. 

He knows why he’d want to avoid his parents, because Eddie would too. 

“Can you bring a plus one?”

“What?”

“Can you bring a plus one to the wedding?” He smiles when Buck nods. “Take me. If your parents are there, I’ll have your back. Plus, your cousin seems nice, I’d love to meet the family that’s not pretentious.”

Buck choked on the wine he’d taken a sip of. “You think Maddie’s pretentious?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely pretentious.” He jokes. “I mean your extended family. You’ve met mine.”

Buck sighs. “Whatever. I guess we’re going to a Buckley wedding. I really did want to see McKenna so you win.”

“I always do.” He grins before he connects his lips with Buck’s and giggles against it when his fingers press against the only ticklish part of his body.

“What? Did that tickle?” Buck gasps. “You said you weren’t ticklish!”

“I’m not!” 

“Mhm.” 

Then suddenly, the wedding worries were long forgotten, tickle war long taking its place. 

“Oooooooh, so you’re going to a wedding with him, huh?” Hen wiggles her eyebrows from where she stands across her kitchen. “That’s gonna be you one day.”

Eddie sighs exasperatedly. “Not if I have nothing planned. I wanna make this special, okay?”

Hen’s face softens. “Anything you do to propose will make it special, honey. You’re Buck’s world, a simple Marry me? would be the most romantic thing in the world to him.”

“Maybe so, but that’s how it was with Shannon. She was pregnant with Christopher so I thought the next logical step would be marriage, but this is different. Buck is different.”

“Alright, alright, let’s get to work, then.” She opens her laptop. “What are some of your favorite things about him?”

Eddie’s face erupts into a look of pure adoration at that question. “Oh, Henrietta, you have no idea what you just got yourself into, asking that. What are some of my favorite things about Evan Buckley? Let’s see… When he wakes up in the morning, he makes this cute little noise when he stretches and it makes my heart fill with joy. He loves Christopher like he’s his own and he never treats him differently. He just has so much knowledge about literally anything. Random facts upon random facts are stored in that beautiful brain of his and whenever he tells me one of these random facts, it’s suddenly the most important thing in the world. He’s so selfless, you know this. When we got together and I still wasn’t sure about being open about my sexuality, he put my fears above his own fear of telling you guys. He’s an amazing cook, so amazing I have a hard time believing that before he joined the one-eighteen the only thing he could cook was ramen. Even if he could still only cook ramen, I’d still love him, we’d just be living off of frozen food. I love the little family we’ve got going on now. I can go on for hours, but I won’t. Any of that help?” 

By the time he was done, Karen was home and trying her hardest not to tease the lovesick man.

“Oh, honey, you’ve got it bad.” Karen giggles. “Buck has it just bad, though.”

Hen clears her throat. “What’s something that’s specific to you and Buck? Christopher, too. You can always propose that way. Doing something and it’ll just come completely unexpected?”

The metaphorical light bulb over Eddie’s head flashes on. “I have it!”

It’s a Friday morning at the firehouse and Eddie finds himself next to Hen, looking over her shoulder as she helps him navigate what needs to be done to propose. 

His eyes travel up to meet his boyfriend’s as he walks up the stairs, and even though his smile is bright as he sees him, there’s bags under his eyes. The second his eyes land on Chimney though, he deflates and rolls his eyes. Chimney has a smug look and Eddie knows he definitely missed something.

“You can’t avoid me forever, Buckaroo.” 

Buck looks over to Hen and Eddie, making an exaggerated face of confusion. 

“Did you guys hear something?” 

Bobby laughs from where he’s at in the kitchen, Hen snorts, and Eddie is grinning, looking between the soon to be brother in laws.

“How mature of you, Evan.” Chimney rolls his eyes. “I just wanna talk about the wedding next week and he keeps rolling his eyes and running away. Eddie, make him stop.” 

Buck scoffs. “You’re sitting here whining and you’re calling me the immature one.” 

“I wouldn’t be whining if you just talk to me for once. I just want more information, who I’m gonna meet, if your parents are coming, c’mon give me something.”

“Alright.” Buck smirks. “For good luck, Egyptian women pinch the bride before the wedding.”

Chimney groans. “What?”

“Engagement and wedding rings are worn on the fourth fingers of the left hand because it was once thought that a vein in that finger leads directly to the heart.”

“That’s beautiful, but I wanna talk about the wedding next week.” Chimney whines.

Eddie is torn between wanting to laugh and being worried about his boyfriend. It’s obvious Chim doesn’t know that this is Buck’s classic mode of deflection, and Buck seems to know this. Eddie can tell Buck is just beginning, too. 

“Seventeen tons of gold are made into wedding rings each year in the United States.”

“Maddie says you would know more about the family that’s going to the wedding, so why won’t you just tell me?”

“Ancient Greeks and Romans thought the veil protected the bride from evil spirits. Brides have worn them ever since.”

Chimney turns to Eddie and Hen, arms out in exasperation, desperate. “Eddie!”

Eddie shrugs his shoulder. “If he doesn’t wanna talk about the wedding, don’t make him talk about the wedding. I’m not gonna make my f- my boyfriend do something he doesn’t want to do.” 

Buck’s too distracted in his minds’ files of facts on weddings to tell Chimney to hear him almost slip up, but Chimney’s got his eyebrow raised and he hears Hen snicker under her breath, nice one. 

Chimney eyes him suspiciously for a moment before he goes back to the problem at hand. “Maddie doesn’t know her cousin all that well, she’s more around Buck’s age, I just want to know what I should expect because I know how the Buckley’s are. Why can’t you just tell me something, man?”

“The most expensive wedding was Sheik Rashad Bin Al Maktoum’s son’s marriage to Princess Salama in Dubai in 1981. It was forty-four million dollars.”

“What about your cousin’s wedding?”

“In the symbolic language of jewels, a sapphire in a wedding ring means marital happiness.”

Before Chimney can ask once more, Eddie cuts in again. “He hasn’t seen anyone in his family in years, why would he know who’s going?”

“Thank you!” Buck sighs and drops next to Eddie, who shuts his laptop so fast it probably would have broken the screen. “I have plenty of more facts about weddings if you want to keep talking about the wedding, though.”

Chimney hears the message it is and sighs. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like talking about your family. I’m just feeling a little anxious here, ya know?”

Buck sighs. “Me too, Chim. But if it helps you any, McKenna is not at all as pretentious and callous as my parents. That’s all I can and want to tell you about though, so please… Let it go.” 

Hen reaches over and places her hand on Buck’s in an attempt of comfort before her soft smile turns to a smirk. “So Buckaroo, why do you know so much about weddings?”

Eddie’s eyes go comically wide. 

“A little late night reading.” He shrugs. 

“Hm.” She turns to Eddie with a smirk when Bobby calls Buck over to help.

Eddie groans softly, resting his head on the cold wood of the dining table. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

Three days later, Eddie finds himself at a jewelry shop on Wilshire with Hen and Karen.

“I feel like all of these rings look the same.” He whines. 

“You’ve looked at four rings and this store is huge.” Hen rolls her eyes. “You’ll know when you’ve found the right ring, okay?”

“Will I?”

Karen snorts. “Yes, you will. Trust me, I went through this same thing when I was proposing to Hen. You’ll just know.”

So Eddie keeps looking. He’s completely indecisive as if it’s him that’s going to be wearing the ring, because Buck definitely wouldn’t care about a fancy ring or any ring at all, but Eddie needs it to be special. 

“How about this?” Karen calls from the other end of the store. When Eddie reaches her, she’s pointing at a black band, definitely something he can automatically picture on Buck’s hand. It still didn’t feel right to him, though. He says as much to Karen before he starts searching the glass case in front of them for more. 

He gasps as soon as he sees it. Hen was right about just knowing.

He calls over the jeweler and asks to see it. The second he’s holding it in between his fingers, he can see himself getting down on one knee. He can see it on Buck’s ring finger, shining brightly to everyone Buck proudly shows it to. It’s definitely the ring.

“This is it.” He grins, looking side to side at the women standing next to him and then smiles at the jeweler. 

Karen and Hen squeal loudly. “What is it about this ring, Diaz-Buckley?” 

“In the symbolic language of jewels, a sapphire in a wedding ring means marital happiness.”

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #soft eddie diaz #eddie diaz is in love #hen wilson #karen wilson #howie chimney han #911 fox #buddie fic #my fics

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: If You Want It Come and Get It {Headcanon}**

**NOTE: I’m sorry this took so long anon, this is a first for me. I hope this isn’t horrible, or not what a headcanon is supposed to be or look like at all. Thanks for the idea, I took it a tad bit farther. SMH 🤷🏾‍♀️🤦🏾‍♀️ Be gentle with me you guys, I know not what I do. 😂😂

Warnings: Plenty of Words, NSFW

First of all, you didn’t mean to steal his jacket. You guys were hanging out on set and you saw his jacket lying around while he was getting into wardrobe. You tried it on and it looked good on you. So, you kept it on.

Chris automatically noticed you were wearing it when he came back from wardrobe. He noted to himself you did look good in it.

When Chris went to filming, you stayed for a bit but left with it on without realizing it until you’d already left. Ooops. (Honest Mistake, right 😁)

You took a picture that night posted it to Instagram saying “Like my new jacket, thanks, Cap. 😁 ” 

Chris hears about it from a tweet where someone asked how Captain America feels about stealing.

When he sees the picture of you wearing it he finds it funny but doesn’t mind it. He comments on your pic using his secret IG account: “DontMessWitDaddy”: I see you’re feeling yourself in OPP (other people’s property). Cool, as long as you know who looks better in it.”

The pic gets a lot of comments and likes. You respond to him saying “Oh, look who got on IG just for little ol’ me. You know that handle is very misleading because I just messed with daddy and daddy didn’t do 💩😛 .”

Everyone finds it funny. As time goes on you decide to keep it and wear it ALL the time. You wear it on errands(even if it doesn’t go with your outfit), traveling, hanging with your friends, and a few interviews. It’s all done to taunt him because you know he loves the jacket.

When you post to your IG and twitter of yourself in the jacket for your “outfit of the day” posts Chris is always in your comments. The first few times these were the emojis you got 😏 🙄 . After two weeks the emojis change to these 🤨😑 .

At an interview on the Jimmy Fallon Show in NY, you get asked about the pictures of you in this jacket and the story behind it. “Oh, it’s nothing major Jimmy. I have a friend and I’m just borrowing the jacket. I mean, I think it looks better on me than him. So I think I just might keep it.” Jimmy tries to get you to confirm that it’s Chris’ jacket. “Yeah, it’s Chris’, or it was Chris’.” The audience and Jimmy seem to love your answer.

Chris is in LA, about to do his own interview with James Corden’s Late, Late Show. He sees the interview you did and he laughs it up. When he does his interview James brings up the attention around it. “What can I say, James, I was raised with siblings, and I was taught to share so I have no problem sharing with the less fortunate.” The audience eats it up and laughs about it. “Wow. She says she looks better in it though and that she’s keeping it. What do you say about that?” Chris shrugs it off and takes his phone out and shows James a pic of himself in the same jacket. The pic gets put up on the big screen. It’s a picture of him giving the smoldering look as he sits in a chair dressed in designer duds. The audience whistles, claps, and cheers for the low key sexy pic. Chris smugly nods. “Yeah, I think that just settled who looks better in it. Don’t make me come and get it.”

That evening you are finishing up with a photoshoot and are supposed to be getting changed to head back to the hotel but you’re on social media just scrolling and see you’re being tagged in a clip of the video of Chris on the talk show. While watching it, you laugh about it and get a cocky idea. You get your assistant to take a picture of you in it. You sit on the makeup table where the mirror is held with your legs open so it shows the underwear you just wore for the shoot and enough cleavage for it to be teasing but not raunchy. You post it to your accounts with the caption: “What was that? I’ll just take the cake now. 🍰 *Me in my new favorite jacket.* If you want it come and get it. 😏 ”

Within minutes it starts trending and everyone is commenting how hot you look and debating over who actually looks better in the jacket. Some are even hinting that the two of you should just get together already and save them any more of the slow burn. With the number of times it gets commented on and retweeted, Chris sees it and he’s amused.

That night you get in late to your hotel suite and you’re still wearing the jacket. There’s a knock at the door just as you take off your shoes and prepare to take off your skirt. After opening the door, you see it’s Chris leaning on the jamb.

Of course, seeing him makes you smirk and you ask him: “What’re you doing here Evans? Come to see just how much better I look in my jacket than you?”

Chris has a smug look on his face as he nods his head and locks eyes with you. “Nah, you said if I want it come and get it.”

Of course, you’re speechless because his voice is hella deep and his eyes are cloudy and definitely don’t have a platonic fire behind them. All of that coupled with how close he is makes your belly flutter and your own cockiness fade.

Since you still have yet to speak Chris takes the opportunity and does the talking. “Well--I want it and I’ve come to get it. Okay with you?” You are still speechless and unsure exactly how to respond. You’re feeling like your imagining the sexual undertones you’re picking up on and decide silence is better than overzealousness. So you nod your head instead.

Chris backs you into the room and kicks the door shut with his foot. As the slam of the door rings out in the room, his lips meet yours. He doesn’t go slow either, he kisses you like you should be kissed, passionately, teasingly, intensely.

He is pressing you on the wall with your jaws cupped in his massive hands taking control. You have no complaints and let him do his thing. Chris yanks open your button-down blouse sending all the buttons throughout the room to bounce off furniture, and walls.

Chris strips your ruined blouse and his jacket off you then finishes what you began with your skirt. Soon you’re only in your underwear with your back pressed to one of the posts of the four-post bed. Chris is still taking every bit of breath from your lungs with his expert and soul-sucking kiss. You don’t even notice him unbuckling your bra in the process.

When he walks away without warning you’re gripping tightly to the bedpost in order not to fall. He takes up his jacket and comes back to you. “Put it on since you love it so much.”

His commanding tone is doing the most sinful things to you. Without protest, you put on the jacket. Chris’ eyes slowly roam your scantily clad body. He doesn’t speak as he lifts off his sweater and drops it to the floor. You hold the bedpost even tighter. You knew he was hot for years, but this was something completely different.

When he gets to dropping his pants you see his arousal and your jaw drops. This was the first time you’d ever seen this much. Throughout the years there were plenty of rumors on if he was packing or not. You never really thought about it but every once in a while you wondered and even got clues for both sides of the argument.

When Chris pulls off his underwear your eyes bug out and have the answer to the number one burning question ninety-nine percent of the human population had. Chris Evans was packing way more than a garden snake. Chris Evans was packing an extinct form of wildlife that was rare among his specific species.

You stare at it so long he snorts out and brings your attention to him. “Don’t be scared, he doesn’t bite.”

Your knees are three seconds from giving out and that’s how long it takes him to be on you. He pushes you down onto the bed onto your stomach. You soon feel his hardness pressing on your ass and feel his breath on your ear. “Unless it’s taunted. Since you’ve been taunting me for weeks, I’d say be very afraid.”

You are in shock and before you can catch your breath he pulls your panties to the side and thrusts into you to the hilt. The only thing you can say is “Holy Fuck!”

That amuses him enough to chuckle but it doesn’t distract him from building a steady pace that has him slamming every inch of himself into you with enough force to make your entire body jerk and your breasts jiggle.

Chris is definitely not taking it easy on you. Every time his hips pound into you his hand lands on your ass cheek with a forceful slap until the only sounds in your hotel suite were that of your bodies colliding together. He delivers the pounding you never knew you needed and the pounding you never knew he could deliver.

Before long your eyes are rolled back, mouth hanging open, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth and your moans and screams tumbled freely from your mouth not caring if anyone can hear. You shout his name and every time he hears it he delivers one uterus destroying thrust that makes you scream louder.

Soon your room phone is ringing competing with the sounds you’re making and there is pounding at the door from hotel staff. Neither of you stop, or slow down or even try to keep it down.

By the time you come for the third time you try to use your hand to push his thigh back so he’d take it a little easy, you were too sensitive for him to go so deep. Chris ignored your hand and instead grabbed them both and pinned them behind you pulling you up to press your back against his chest.

“Don’t run from daddy’s dick Y/N.” Chris’ voice is deep and gruff as he huffs the words out. Just like that, you become even wetter. This new angle is allowing him to grind against your G-spot and it’s glorious torture. You begin to shake.

Chris grinds his hips a few more times then jackhammers into your core. His grunts turn high pitched and your whines raise a decibel or two. When you feel his release it triggers yours and a storm of convulsions.

Slowly the two of you get quieter, but the phone is still ringing and there is still pounding at the door. Chris lets you fell to the bed and walks to the door. He opens it and sticks his head out. The hotel manager is outside with a sour look on his face, Chris smiles. “Sorry bout the noise, we’re done.”

By the time he comes back to the bed where you have not moved a muscle. You are unable to, you’ve been thoroughly fucked. He is smiling and you can’t even muster to smile back. The two of you pass out without speaking any words.

When you wake up the next day, you’re alone and the jacket is gone. You are stunned by the events of last night but notice you are completely sore but one hundred percent satisfied.

When you check social media you see the pic Chris tweeted: “I think it looks good on both of us, but it’s my jacket. On the other hand, I am willing to share it. So when you want it come and get it. 🛎 ”

You smile becauseit sure as hell sounded like an invitation to you. One you planned on fulling accepting.

#if you want it come and get it headcanon #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans headcanon #chris evans smut

[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?

[blackmissfrizzle]

Not Your Grandmama’s Captain America

Title: Not Your Grandmama’s Captain America- Sequel to America’s Ass

Characters: Bucky Barnes x black!reader, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, T’Challa and Shuri (mentioned)

Summary: The reader questions herself in her new role as Captain America

Word Count:

Warnings: Implied Smut and fluff

With the death of Tony Stark, Justin Hammer thought he could be the weapons juggernaut of the world once again. Only problem was he tended to sell his weapons to gangs, mercenaries, and terrorists, causing you, Sam, and Bucky to put in overtime.

You were currently fighting a man almost three times your size who was trying to stop you from seizing the vibrianium bullets Hammer intended to sell. And oh boy, his big ass was giving you a hell of a time.

At times you would forget that Steve passed the mantle of Captain America onto you until you felt the weight of the shield on your arm. Remembering that you had one of the world’s most infamous weapon at your disposal, you threw your shield at the big guy effectively knocking him off his feet.

“Took you long enough. Steve Rogers would’ve already taken me down. Maybe you’re not cut out to be Captain America.” The man gloated like he hadn’t just got his ass handed to him.

“It’s true that Steve would’ve knocked yo ole big Deebo lookin’ ass out faster, but” you waved your hands up and down your body, “this ain’t your grandmama’s Captain America.” Then you sent a nose crunching kick to the man’s face, sending him to an instant nap.

Grabbing the bullets, you heard another dumb argument between Sam and Bucky as they entered the room.

“Man, bullshit! I saved your ass, just admit it,” Sam claimed.

Bucky outwardly groaned and rolled his eyes. “Listen, Parrot, I had it under control. I knew that guy was behind me.”

“Is this how it’s always gonna be with you two? Because if that’s the case I’m going up in space with Aunt Carol and my dad.”

Sam grabbed the case of bullets and kissed you on the cheek. “We were always like this. The only difference now is that you’re the only one to break us up.”

Bucky ran up to the two of you and pushed Sam away from you. “Keep your bird beak off my girlfriend!”

The two of them were about to argue again, but you kicked both of them in the shins to get them to shut up.

“Fuck, doll!”

“What the hell Fury?”

Both grabbed their injured shin and hopping on one leg, howling in pain.

Pulling from the memories of your dad giving you many lectures, you conjured up the spirit of your father and threatened your best friend and boyfriend. “If you two don’t get it together, imma buy you a get along shirt and make you walk around in public with it. Okay?”

Each nodded their head furiously, hating the idea of being stuck in a t-shirt with the other.

Once they got their bearings, Sam and Bucky handed off Hammers’ men to the feds while you were talking to T’Challa about the bullets.

“We’re all good here, Cap. What did T’Challa say?” Bucky’s noticed at how your eyes slightly watered at your new nickname, but he didn’t dare address it at that moment. He knew you didn’t want to show any vulnerability while you were in public with your suit on.

“Thanking us for getting the bullets. In two days, we’ll be going to Wakanda to give them to the Wakandans.”

Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God! Shuri can fix your suit.”

You looked down at your suit in disbelief. Shuri had done a good job you thought. She made the suit for your body and made it out of vibranium. The Wakandan princess was ecstatic that you were the new Captain America and said what was the point of a vibranium shield without a vibranium suit.

“What’s wrong with my suit?” You asked crossing your arms and drawing your eyebrows.

“That.” Bucky commented while pointing at your ass. He waved his hands in the shape of your body. “It’s too form fitting. How can I concentrate on beating someone’s ass when I’m too busy looking at yours?”

“Ugh, maybe I need to find someone to beat your ass so you could focus on saving yours.” You stuck your tongue out and laughed at him.

Bucky shuddered at the thought of having to fight more people. “Never mind. It’s perfect.”

------

Later that night you were sitting between Bucky’s legs on the bed while he helped twist your hair. The two were working in peaceful silence when Bucky thought it was the perfect time to bring up what happened earlier.

“Hey babe.”

“Hmm?”

“Earlier today when I called you Cap, your eyes almost watered. What’s up with that, babe?”

Grateful that your back was to Bucky, you answered him quicker than you would if you would’ve been facing him.

“Do I really deserve to be called Cap or even be Captain America? I know Steve thought it was a good idea, but I’m not sure. Some of my old SHEILD coworkers doubt me and I was the best damn agent there. Hell, even the damn criminals don’t think I’m up to snuff.”

Bucky dropped the twist he was working on and firmly gripped your chin to face him. “Listen to me real good, doll. You’re the best person for the job, Stevie wouldn’t have chosen you if he didn’t think so. Now, if anyone else got some shit to say point them my way and me, my knife, and them can have a talk.”

You laughed through some of your tears and kissed your boyfriend. Bucky was serious about stabbing anyone who did you wrong. “Thanks, babe. But I don’t think the stabbing is necessary.”

“I didn’t say anything about stabbing anybody,” Bucky’s voice raised a couple of octaves higher.

As you opened your mouth to respond, your phone vibrated, alerting you to a text.

“Babe, Sam just told me to turn on the news. Grab the remote please.”

Bucky followed your directions and Steve filled your tv screen. Both you and Bucky exchanged looks, asking if the other knew why Steve was on tv, but both of you were in the dark.

“Hello, everyone it’s Steve Rogers. I should’ve done this a long time ago, but better late than never. The other day, I was out getting a cup of coffee and I heard someone talking down on Captain America. Not me, Captain America, but your new Captain, Y/N Fury.”

You scooted out of Bucky’s lap and closer to the tv, turning up the volume making sure you didn’t miss a word Steve said.

“I don’t know how many of you have been loved or protected by a black woman, but I’m gonna assume it’s a lot, judging by the amount of people talking smack. Y/N being Captain America is the best thing that’s happened to the world. She will fight for you and be in your corner despite all the dumb things you do and won’t be afraid to tell you what you did wrong. That’s what you get when you have a black woman as Captain America. That’s what you get when you have Y/N Fury as Captain America. And if you don’t like it, I guess you’ll just have to be mad, because she’s not going anywhere.” At the end of his statement shrugged his shoulders, blue eyes twinkling with mirth, and left his seat.

Steve soothed all your worries. He got on tv, which he hated, and basically told those who couldn’t get on board to go fuck themselves.

Feeling like your old self, you grabbed your phone and logged onto IG live. “Hey everyone, sorry for my hair looking a mess.” You ran your fingers through your untwisted hair. “Anyways I just wanted to say…Steve Rogers just told y’all to stay mad cuz my black ass is the new Captain America!!!” Laughing obnoxiously into the screen, you then stuck your tongue out, while Bucky was in the background slightly embarrassed and proud at the same time.

I keep it realer than real

Fuck all the critics and fuck how they feel

I'm getting money, it is what it is

They wanna know how I did what I did

Don't worry 'bout why I do what I do (bitch)

'Cause I ain't worried bout you (bitch)

You were singing along to the chorus of Megan the Stallion’s song to share your feelings to your haters, while most of your followers were sending you heart eye emojis and commenting ‘that’s my Captain America.’

Bucky decided it was time to end your live when you began twerking. He didn’t want everyone to see what you were working with. So, he snatched the phone and quickly ended your live video. “That’s enough of that.”

“Buck, what was that for? I was only showing them what America’s ass could do.” Your boyfriend instantly turned red and you achieved your goal. You loved messing with Bucky and making his possessive side show out.

“I don’t remember America having your ankles up to your ears and screaming out in ecstasy last night.” Bucky gave you a crooked smirked as he cockily referenced your bedroom adventures.

“Anyway, do you feel better?”

You returned to Bucky’s lap and straddled him. “Yeah. I’m sure I’m gonna have my off days, but you, Sam, and Steve will be there to pick me up.”

Bucky pecked your lips with his pink ones. “You got that right. I’m with you til the end of the line.”

This time it was your turn to kiss Bucky and it was deep and passionate. You were telling Bucky you loved him without words. Sniffling between a few fallen tears you whispered to your boyfriend, “I love you.”

Rubbing his nose against yours, Bucky whispered back, “I love you too, Captain.”

 Tags: @chaneajoyyy @marvelmaree @wakanda-inspired @blackreaders-assemble @dumbchick @pastelastronomy24 @nickidub718 @toniilaney @amethyst09 @youwishiwasyobabymama @disaster-rose @destinio1 @dessianna1 @blacknthemix @blackpinup22 @euphoric05 @bitchacho25

#black!reader #bucky barnes #bucky #winter soldier #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x black!reader #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x reader #steve x black!reader #steve x reader #sam wilson #falcon #frizzlefic

[reesewestonarchive]

I request you answer same ask meme for ronan & cas, then :p

I knew it :p

Ronan (which I think? is the first I’ll have really mentioned him here? though he does have a sneaksy tag

2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod - my boy has a whole playlist here the one place they sometimes end up falling asleep – where they’re not supposed to - I don’t imagine Ronan ever really does... he’s stupid Adulty the game they'd destroy everyone else at - hey, he’s well coordinated in real life but I feel like he’d fucking suck at video games the emoticon they’d use most often - emojis, what are those. Dakota sends him one once and he squints at it like an old man what they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep - irritable, grumpy, generally the same as when he’s gotten enough sleep their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. or mornings. or whenever. - decaf coffee how they like to comfort/care for themselves when they’re in a slump - wear himself out with dakota and then curl into him while dakota does... whatever it is that dakota does what they wanted to be when they grew up - not this. he’s made his peace with it but he never would have wanted it their favorite kind of weather - ... summer mornings? or or early fall/late spring mornings when everything’s really cool and calm. actually, could see him liking snowy mornings too, just... before dawn when the world wakes up. I think it’s less about weather and more about that quiet actually thoughts on their singing voice (decent? terrible? soprano? alto?) - he’s a big ol’ shrug emoji, but I can’t remember if he does sing or not. now I like the idea of him singing and--oh. I made myself sad with a Thought about ronan singing to dakota in the event that they fucked up real bad and have no opportunity to save themselves how/what they like to draw or doodle - he has chicken scratch handwriting, but I’m amused at the idea of him doing bad doodles in the form of cave drawings when he’s irritated at a job

cas

2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod - johnny cash’s anything, but the friendly ghost’s playlist is here (fun fact the sad cover of knockin’ on heaven’s door is what I’d play over felix learning about cas in limbo... if this were a tv show, which it’s not... yet :D) the one place they sometimes end up falling asleep – where they’re not supposed to - cas doesn’t sleep so much as he accidentally does, so it’s anywhere. in diners, in the car, when he’s waiting for felix. I expect on bad times he falls asleep on the job the game they'd destroy everyone else at - I don’t know about that but I want him and felix to play animal crossing now haha the emoticon they’d use most often - the ghost emoji. or that wacky sideways :p face what they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep - quieter than normal, probably eats a lot more too... but cas is used to not enough sleep so most people don’t notice their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. or mornings. or whenever. - idk about hot beverages, my boy likes milkshakes, rain or shine how they like to comfort/care for themselves when they’re in a slump - snugglin’ with felix what they wanted to be when they grew up - well... good question I don’t remember their favorite kind of weather - sunny and not a cloud in sight thoughts on their singing voice (decent? terrible? soprano? alto?) - he’s a big ol’ shrug about his voice how/what they like to draw or doodle - he’d doodle tiny cryptids on felix’s notes :p

[thefandomlesbian]

Hello! I love your blind supreme verse. Could I request some fluff of Cordelia getting pregnant and her and Misty having a baby? If you don't like this prompt do not feel obligated to answer. Thanks!

Hey! Thank you very much for the prompt, but I actually don't write Foxxay having children. That's what everyone else writes, but I'm very attached to them living a childfree life and mothering the students who come through Miss Robicheaux's in favor of having their own children. It's just not something I'm capable of writing in a way that I feel is true to their characters in my interpretation of them, since my version of Misty doesn't like children and Cordelia feels the need to abandon most of the facets of her relationship with Hank, including her fertility journey. But thank you very much for the prompt, I appreciate it very much! ❤️

(As a side note, I would be willing to and have actually considered doing a short piece wherein they talk about having a family and decide not to, but whether or not that'll actually happen in the future is a big ole shrug emoji.)

[olicitysecretsanta]

Worth Fighting For

This fluffy semi-canon fic is for you Liz @trippin-over-my-fandoms by @tangled23works!

It’s been a pleasure to write this story even though I’m sure it’s not exactly what you had in mind. I promise, however, there is a method to my madness. Hope you’ll enjoy it! Merry Christmas!

Summary : Oliver has a devious plan in order to charm his wife after a stupid fight. Meanwhile, Felicity may have been blind to the obvious.

Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

Word count : 2217

***

The fight had started innocently enough. Oliver had made a rather self-deprecating comment which Felicity now couldn’t even remember and she had exploded like a bomb. A year’s worth of repressed emotions and negative thoughts had violently burst out of her like a swollen river. She had blamed him for things that he had honestly thought they had put behind them with all the drama that happened last year. She had accused him of having one foot out the door, always thinking of ways to leave her like her father. That comparison had hurt him more than anything else. In other words, she had had a major freakout. In her loud voice. 

To top it all off, she had banished her poor husband out of the room. Oliver for his part had accepted her decision, looking stoic as always. His eyes, however, his beautiful, blue eyes that never failed to pull her in had given away his inner turmoil. In a calm and collected manner, he had obeyed her wishes and slept on the couch. 

The morning after, Felicity had woken up on the verge of tears. The huge Christmas tree in the empty living room seemed to mock her. William was still in Cambridge and she missed him terribly.

Feeling desolate and alone, she had made a cup of coffee and had been considering the best way to apologize to Oliver when her phone beeped. Sighing, she unlocked the screen thinking that it would probably be her husband checking on her when she noticed that he had sent her not a message but an email with an attached photo. Intrigued, she downloaded the attachment while shaking her head at the fact that Oliver was incapable of using imessage or messenger or any other app more advanced that good ol’ regular gmail. 

At first she couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. Did Oliver send her spam?

The moment she turned the device sideways, however, she figured it out. The sneaky vigilante knew that she had a thing for his arms so he had sent her a picture of him flexing his biceps. She couldn’t see his face but she figured out that he was training at the Foundry 2.0, shirtless. It took a few minutes of daydreaming about her husband’s arms around her, caging her in, protecting her before she realized what the photo meant. Oliver was fighting for her, for them, in his own weird way.

Felicity sighed again - a much more satisfied sigh this time - and poured her awful coffee down the sink. The thing had tasted like dirt. Well, she had actually never eaten dirt on purpose but the coffee was dry and stale, hence the dirt analogy. She looked into the empty mug, worriedly. It was as if someone had drowned a cigarette in there. The thought upset her stomach so much that she made sure to stay out of the kitchen and as far away from coffee as possible for the rest of the morning.

At 2 pm, her phone beeped again. Felicity almost tripped in her haste to reach it. Feeling restless and on edge, she opened the attachment and moaned out loud. Her devious husband was shirtless and glistening with sweat on this one. Granted, all she could see was his glorious, scarred back and muscular shoulders but it was enough to make her flush all over. She bit her lip and felt the need to literally fan herself. If he was trying to woo her he was doing a damn good job of it. She ended up woolgathering for a ridiculous amount of time considering that she usually had the actual man in front of her and could stare to her heart’s content, before an unwelcome thought hit her. She furiously typed one simple question.

Who took this picture Oliver? 

His reply came a few seconds later, though it felt like an eternity to her.

Dig. I promised that we would never EVER mention it to anyone. 

Felicity giggled like a freaking schoolgirl at the thought of big, mean Spartan taking candid photos of the fearsome Green Arrow to help him win his wife over.

I also had to give him my precious Starling Rockets vs New York Yankees tickets. 

Aww, you must really love me.

She added several heart emojis to the last message just to tease him. Oliver didn’t reply but she could picture him grumbling to Dig, complaining about her inability to share his love for the Rockets and baseball in general. Happy to miss the diatribe that would surely follow - her husband was surprisingly eloquent when it came to sports - Felicity focused on writing the algorithm for her new and improved security system. It had been a month since the last update and she had work to do.

She had created the system last year after the Lizard’s attack (she refused to call him the Dragon, it was a matter of principle) and she was proud of it. Apart from providing protection for her family, the system had made her famous among tech companies. Several of the biggest names in the tech world had hired her and decided to trust her technology in the months that followed. Including a certain Mr. Dennis, current CEO of PalmerTech, but Felicity had graciously declined that offer. 

She was deeply engrossed in coding the next time the phone beeped. Felicity took a deep breath and refused to hurry, stretching instead to relieve the pressure from her sore back. Let Oliver worry for a few minutes. He wanted to break her resistance but she would not give in that easily. He had to work harder to change her mind. Although to be honest if he was naked in this one, she would definitely fold like a cheap deck of cards. But there was no way that her husband would risk sending a naked pic online. Not with all the Green Arrow media frenzy that followed his every move. Surely she had taught him better than that. Right? Right? 

Okay, now she was officially freaking out.

Felicity grabbed the phone and considered it for a moment. This thing was a bigger threat to her sanity than evil doppelgangers from Earth X. It was more potent than any guilty pleasure she could ever dream of. More potent than molten lava chocolate cake, more compelling than Oliver’s authentic Italian tiramisu, more powerful than creamy raspberry cheesecake… Trying to focus, she stared at the damn device as if it was the enemy.

Felicity huffed in annoyance. She was being utterly ridiculous and it was all her husband’s fault. She proceeded to download the photo and reminded herself that she was made of stronger stuff. She would not cave no matter what. 

“Oh my God!”

The good news was that Oliver was not naked. The bad news was that it was worse. Way worse. He was actually standing in front of the mirror, wearing his tuxedo (including the jacket and an unraveled bow tie) but he had left the shirt unbuttoned all the way down. The suspenders were hanging down making the whole outfit more sexy if that was possible. Adding insult to injury, he had taken a selfie. Not of his face. That would have been too kind. Of his gorgeous abs. 

Felicity enlarged the photo, staring at it, slack-jawed. The sight of his out of this world eight-pack abs caused her toes to curl like they described in romance novels.

“That’s it. I’m gonna kill him this time.”

She heard the front door open before she could finish plotting her nefarious revenge schemes. She couldn’t hear a sound but she knew who it was. There was only one person in Star City who could be so stealthy, moving silently like a ninja.

Felicity turned towards him steeling her spine. As soon as she came face to face with the source of her frustration though she felt her resolution crumble. He looked good enough to eat. Pun intended.

“You’re still wearing your tux!” she accused in a high-pitched voice.

“I know.”

He took one tiny step forward.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.”

Another step.

“Even if I’m not sure why.”

“I know.”

Another step.

“Oliver, I have no idea what’s going on with me. First, I get so mad that I want to throw stuff at you. Then, I get so horny I want to jump you as soon as you get home. And now, I feel…”

“What? Tell me, Felicity.”

He had almost reached her when he paused, waiting for her answer.

“I feel like crying. Which is unfair because I don’t know why I feel that way. And my coffee tastes like dirt and my back hurts and I’m miserable all the time,” she whined.

Felicity narrowed her eyes when she noticed her husband’s sly smile. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m smiling,” he corrected, “because I know what’s wrong with you.”

“You do?” she asked, surprised.

He nodded and another softer smile adorned his stupidly handsome face.

“Care to elaborate?”

“I’m considering it.”

“Why?”

“Because the moment I tell you, you’re gonna freak out. Because I’m worried you’re not ready for this. Felicity, I’m afraid I’m gonna lose you.”

It was her who covered the remaining distance in the end. 

“Oh, Oliver,” she whispered. “You’re not gonna lose me.”

He looked down, avoiding her gaze.

Felicity took his arms and placed them around her waist. She had to stand on her toes and lean her head back to meet his eyes but it was worth it.

“Hey, what’s wrong? I know I’m behaving like a hormone-crazed teenager at the moment but I swear that you’re not gonna lose me. No matter what.”

He shrugged and didn’t comment.

Felicity put her lips against his. Not kissing him, just that silly thing they sometimes did where they whispered their thoughts against each other’s lips.

“I’m glue, baby. Remember?”

His eyes lit up brighter than their Christmas tree at the reminder. 

“Hi,” he whispered, tenderly.

Felicity caressed the back of his neck adoring the way his scruff felt against her face. They had been through so much and they would probably go through a lot more in the future. But it was okay as long as they had each other. 

“Oliver?” she murmured.

He gave her a slow, wicked smile.

“Why are you wearing your tux? Is it because I got mad at you?”

“No.”

“Because it’s Christmas and you thought that I deserve a present?” she asked hopefully.

“You deserve all the presents. But no.”

“Then why? Are we celebrating anything today?”

She played with his hair while he mulled over his reply.

“Felicity,” he said at last, sounding gentle and unsure, “I think that you’re going to give me the best present of my life in a few months.”

Her eyes which had previously closed because of the safety of his warm embrace, flew open.

“No,” she denied.

Oliver stroked her back smoothly.

“Really?” she asked, unnerved.

“Yes.” 

“How can you know?” To say that she was feeling overwhelmed by the idea would be an understatement.

“Trust me. I know.”

The look in his eyes… In that moment, Felicity would have done anything to keep him looking at her like this forever. Like she was the one constant in his life that would never change. Like she was his anchor. Like she had wrapped the world and offered it to him as a gift.

And that was the thought that broke through her panic. Because Oliver was her anchor as well. He had given her the world from the first moment he had walked in her cubicle and trusted her with his life as the Hood. She might have doubted many things during the past year but she had never, not once, doubted his love for her. And she knew unequivocally, deep in her bones that he would always cherish their child.

“I trust you,” she breathed. 

To an outsider it might have seemed like she was replying to his earlier comment but Oliver understood. She was giving him back something she had kept locked since he had first lied to her about his son. She was giving him back a piece of her heart that she had desperately tried to keep safe.

They got lost in each other for a while, both misty-eyed but beaming.

“Do you think we’ll be good parents?” he said out of the blue. “I mean, William is already a teenager but with the life we lead, it might not always be possible for us to be there for this little one.”

“Then our child will grow up knowing that we did everything we could to protect him. He’ll know that his parents loved him even if we’re not there to show him.”

“Her,” he corrected.

Felicity tried to raise an eyebrow and failed.

“Her?”

“She’s a girl,” he announced in what Felicity called ‘his mayoral voice’. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

She shook her head in amusement. Girl or boy she had no doubt that her child would grow up loved.

“Best Christmas ever,” she declared, feeling happiness suffuse every molecule of her being.

And as Felicity rested her head on her husband’s chest, she realized that they were slow dancing without music.

#arrow #olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #olicity secret santa 2018 #submission

[meta-shadowsong]

On Force-Sensitivity Demographics

AKA:  Exactly How Many Force-Sensitive People Are in the Galaxy; and Is This Genetic?

This is something I think about from time to time--I’m not sure exactly why now is one of those times, except that I set up this blog not too long ago and therefore was reading back through some old metas I’d written/bookmarked/etc.

Anyway, since it has been on my mind, I figured I’d go ahead and get my thoughts on the matter into some kind of coherent format!

And said thoughts basically boil down to one big ol’ shrug emoji, because I don’t think there’s enough information to say for sure.

Let’s start with the first question--how many Force-sensitive people are in the Galaxy?

So, the main evidence we have for any type of discussion on this subject is the size of the Jedi Order, which is stated to be roughly 10,000 beings as of the fall of the Republic. But there are a couple problems with extrapolating from that number.

First, who exactly does that 10,000 estimate include? Is it every Jedi currently known to be alive according to Temple records? Is it all active Jedi Knights/Masters/Padawans? Is it limited to full Jedi who have passed their Trials? Does it include retired Masters? Younglings and initiates?

Second, even if we take it as the most inclusive number possible (i.e., every living member of the Jedi Order from Master Yoda down to the three-month old that got brought in the day before the end), that’s not necessarily an accurate barometer for the percentage of Force-sensitives in the general population. For one thing, there are entire populations that are outliers (i.e., Dathomir, which seems to have a higher percentage than the galactic average, to the point where I kind of think it’s some kind of genius locus/an entire planet of people who are sensitive to a perceptible degree), and we don’t know how many of those/how sizeable they are.

With that in mind, using just the Jedi Order is probably not super-accurate to the galaxy as a whole. See above, re: Dathomir; not to mention other populations such as the Bardotta and Lasat that seem to have strong native traditions and generally don’t send their children to the Temple. Also, given that there’s a gradient/some level of variation in terms of raw strength/natural ability above whatever threshold the Jedi consider the minimum for induction into the Order, there probably is below it, too. Meaning, there’s most likely an unknown population of people who are perceptibly more sensitive than Joe Average, even if they don’t quite meet the Order’s standard, whatever that may be. I mean, you could view Force-sensitivity as a simple on/off switch, with…IDK…varying brightness in the bulbs once they’re turned on, but that seems weird/doesn’t really hold up for me. Especially given that, at least in Legends, certain species (such as the Iktotchi, IIRC) have a higher baseline level of Force-sensitivity than Humans do. Granted, the gradient issue is probably more relevant to the second half of this discussion (on possible heredity), rather than broad population estimates, because at some point a line has to be drawn; still, I thought it best to mention it.

Third, even if we exclude populations like Dathomiri/Bardotta/Lasat and people who are sensitive enough to Do Things, but not necessarily above whatever threshold the Jedi require, that 10,000 is still probably not a great sample, because it’s fairly limited. It consists of people who were a) born in the Republic and/or found by a wandering Jedi within the appropriate age range, whatever that may be, and b) had parents who were willing to give them up for adoption. I’ve touched on this before but the highlights: we don’t know how many letter B excludes, but even letter A probably doesn’t catch all the eligible people within that parameter.

And I can say this because of Palpatine.

Based on his background, coming from a sector capital (if a relatively rural/minor one) and born to parents who had a fair amount of personal resources, it’s hard to believe that he wouldn’t be identified. I mean, yes, one explanation is a handwaved because Destiny said so/the Son chose his champion and made sure he would be found by the correct teacher, but it’s just as likely that there are kids, even from highly visible populations, who slip through the cracks--let alone children from less visible populations. Especially since, to my knowledge, there’s not actually a whole lot of information out there on exactly how candidates for the Order are identified, so it’s hard to say how many people, like Palpatine, slipped through the cracks.

Now, to be fair, I don’t know if this possible increase in the numbers of Force-sensitives makes a significant difference in terms of the percentage they make up of the overall population, given the sheer size of the galaxy. But that just brings me to question #2, because I think it does mean that determining whether Force-sensitivity is genetic is really, really hard to determine.

Again, since most of our information comes from the Jedi Order, we’re dealing with a potentially skewed/small/nonrepresentative sample size of people who, generally speaking, do not have biological children. In addition, we don’t actually know a whole lot about who more than, like, a hundred or so of those ten thousand are? Of whom we do see one set of cousins (if I’m remembering current canon about Adi Gallia and Stass Allie correctly) and one sibling pair (from the Order 66 arc in Clone Wars; though they are twins, which by common laws/tropes of Fantasy Genetics makes things Special/weird/more likely to be magic/Force-sensitive).

Anyway, that evidence is not the greatest for making broad generalizations. Basically, we can extrapolate that you don’t have to have (Jedi-level) Force-sensitive parents to be Force-sensitive yourself. Meaning, the ability itself can turn up as a completely spontaneous mutation, so to speak--which, while not the best term, is the one I’m going to use from here on out for convenience.

But that doesn’t necessarily say anything about the likelihood of a Force-sensitive parent passing on said mutation and having a Force-sensitive child.

And that, we really can’t answer definitively, since the only people whose bloodlines we can track that are known to contain multiple Force-sensitives are the Skywalkers (who are outliers adn should not be counted) and Maul and his brothers (who are Dathomiri and thus, as discussed above, most likely a Special Case).

So here, we enter Wild Headcanon territory.

That disclaimer aside, my personal take on the heredity question, is that the more sensitive you are, the higher your chances of producing a Force-sensitive child. So, for example (and pulling numbers out of thin air), Joe Average has a 1/20 chance of having a Force-sensitive baby through a spontaneous mutation; the average Jedi Knight or someone with the equivalent level of potential has a 50/50 chance of passing it on; someone on Palpatine or Yoda’s level has maybe a 3/4 chance; and of course Anakin’s children will be Force-sensitive regardless (but, again, outlier/Life Incarnate/I’m pretty sure the main reason it took three years to conceive the twins was that he and Padme were both using like five kinds of birth control and also didn’t actually have all that many opportunities to sleep together--buuuuuut that is a discussion for a separate post).

Anyway, this still means that Joe Average could have five Force-sensitive kids in a row and a Jedi-level Force adept could have five kids and none of them are sensitive, because these probabilities are for each individual child. In essence, while rare, it is possible to roll a die and get, say, five straight nat ones (as D&D players will probably know); and it’s…actually more likely than that to flip a coin and get tails five times in a row, according to my vague memory of high school math and how to calculate probabilities.

[Tangentially, this explains Korkie in my head, since he seems to be either Force-null or somewhere on that sliding scale between zero and the Jedi threshold. Because I do headcanon him as Obi-Wan and Satine’s biological son (though I think Bo-Katan is legally his mother; but that’s something planned for my fic blog rather than here); and the cointoss turned up tails.]

And this is just the most basic, surface-level analysis, without even considering the impact of the second bioparent in the equation (not that I think this fits neatly into a Punnett square or anything), or what happens if you’re dealing with a Force-null child of a Force-sensitive parent; or varying probabilities depending on where the nominally non-sensitive parent falls on that sliding scale I keep mentioning…but most of that would be well beyond my half-remembered high-school bio/math understanding of probability and genetics soooo yeah.

In conclusion--with regard to the questions of how many Force-sensitives there in the galaxy; and even more so whether or not Force-sensitivity is at all genetic, the answer is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  because there isn’t enough information to say for sure one way or the other.

(Note: it probably also bears mentioning, re: the heredity question, that families in the GFFA seem to run fairly small? Like, I can only think of one confirmed example of a family with more than two kids in canon (Maul and his brothers; who are Dathomiri and therefore possibly not a good example for determining Force heredity) and one possible one (Satine, Bo-Katan, and a possible third sibling; though to my knowledge that has never been 100% confirmed/made explicit, and neither of the two we know for sure exist are Force-sensitive). Everyone else I’m coming up with is either an only child or one of two siblings, or not specified. I can’t even think of all that many in Legends, though there are a few more there. To be fair, we don’t actually have a very broad sample of families, either, so… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

#star wars #fandom #originally posted june 2019