#the roasts went hard like DAMN

[ohtobeleah]

Roughing It // JS x BB x Reader

Summary: Jake Seresin begged you, his best friend to go camping with him and Bradley Bradshaw—but not for the innocent reasons you might think. A simple camping trip turns into something much more unholy. Callsign— Giggles

Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!Reader. Bradley Bradshaw x F!Reader. Unprotected sex. Male receiving oral. Choking. MxMxF Threesome. Creampie. Obvious power dynamics.

Word Count: 5.7k

Author Note: Happy Sunday—AKA, the Lords day. This is Roughing It’s 3rd rewrite & by far my favourite re-write & fandom. Enjoy Sluts.

In the quiet of the warm afternoon light that cascaded across Jake Seresin's living room—you found a spot in the warm orange hume to curl up on the lounge. You settled on your comfort movie—TopGun, Maverick. Your clammy hand caressed the TV remote as you pressed play, the opening sequence still and always would send chills through your body as you watched the carrier out to sea appear on the large crisp screen like you’d watched a million times before and would probably watch a million times more. 

“High— way to the danger zone—“ You mumbled along as you settled in a little deeper, trying to will the inappropriate thoughts away. To say you were nervous was an understatement, neither you and Jake or you and Bradley had spoken about the events that had transpired a week ago and either of the two men who you’d had some of the roughest sex of your life with, no pun intended, had looked at you the same since. 

“Just come over and hang out, Gigs?” You could hear Jake's voice in your head as you sat and tried to focus on the movie playing in front of you. “You’ve been avoiding me like the damn plague.” 

There was a reason for that—

You couldn’t tell if Jake and Bradley were looking at you in disgust and regret at the thought of what the three of you had done or if they were just looking for an opportunity to have their way with you again. From fleeting glances in the halls or eyes that burned into the back of your head in the change rooms. Either way, it made you crave the two naval aviators more than you cared to admit. 

It all happened so fast, you couldn’t remember exactly how it started but the one thing you knew for sure was that Jake was the one who imitated it. He’d been thinking about it for a hell of a long time before he put his plan into action too. 

***~***~***~***

“For crying out loud Giggles! you complain more than Bradshaw does.” Jake huffed as he stood and turned away from where the two of you had been sitting on the camp log. “My god you’re driving me insane!” He groaned out as you turned your head to follow his trajectory. You could physically hear the frustration laced in Jake's tone of voice. “Just cut it out for like five minutes will ya?” Jake tried to level with you the best he could as he went around and grabbed a stray stick, he poked at the fire with it as he watched the bright orange embers fly into the night sky. You scoffed, cleaning the bowls from the delightful dinner of canned chicken soup and roasted vegetables. 

“Bite my fucking ass, Seresin, maybe if you didn’t try to feed me cold inedible canned soup for dinner I wouldn’t be in such a pissy mood!” Jake Seresin had proven himself time and time again—he was a shocking cook. “You barely even followed the instructions! How hard is it to heat up a can of soup!” 

“You haven’t stopped the entire day!” Jake felt his emotions running rampant after an exhausting day or setting up for the trip the three of you had been planning for weeks. You, Jake and Bradley had all aligned your work commitments to spend a few days in the wilderness together, off the grid, no phones and away from prying eyes. It was a much needed break from the world—the navy, F-18’s, commitments and Fanboys latest obsession with the new star wars movie. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, Jake couldn’t help but to raise his voice at you, he poked and prodded with the fire for a few moments more before he let his inhibitions get the better of him. Before Jake really knew what he was doing, his feet were taking him on a mission of their own, marching him over to where you were washing the used pots and pans out 

“I’ve got a headache from your incessant complaining.” Seething, Jake towered over you from behind. His muscular build that rivals Adonis himself blocked the soft light of the moon. Watching as you shrugged him off with a simple eye roll–Jake didn't take well to being shrugged off so nonchalantly like your attitude wasn't a massive pain in his arse. He’d known you for the better half of ten years and you’d always been on his ‘fuck it’ list. 

“Then fucking leave me alone then!? God, it’s like you didn’t beg me to come with you guys even though you damn well know I hate everything associated with camping.” You let Jake have it as you placed the dirty pot you were working on into the soaping lukewarm later before you turned to face Jake completely. “You have a problem with my complaining, but you complaining about my complaining is worse than any complaining I've done.” Jake scoffed as you pushed your index finger into his chest– the action alone made him bite his tongue. He was as hard as a rock and felt like he could snap at any second. He wanted you, so bad. He needed to feel you. 

“Come on Hangman, just let me get this shit done and we can go to bed.” You tried to soften the mood, you could see very clearly in Jake's emerald green eyes that he was ready to fight. His chest was puffed, his feet were firm and his jar was sharp–clenched tight to keep himself from speaking thoughts he only ever thought about when he was alone and jerking himself off into existence. “Go to bed–I'll be right behind you.” You smiled softly before you patted Jake's chest three times with a gently open palm before you turned back to where you had been working away at the dishes. “You know, you’re kinda acting like you want me to bitch and moan your ear off? You shoul–”  Before you could finish your sentence, Jake's large and slightly calloused hand wrapped around your jaw. He covered your mouth as he pressed his chest against your back and held you securely against him by bringing his other arm around your waist. breathing heavily through your nose your eyes widened when you felt Jakes hard on press against the small of your back, you couldn’t process what was happening fast enough. 

Jake had seen his opportunity and taken it. The two of you had always had sexual tension but you refused to do anything about it for the sake of your own image. He was a great friend, a questionable wingman at times, but Jake Seresin had never been a guy on your roster. Until now when your sexual tension reached new peaks and Jake finally cracked under the pressure. 

All it took was an off grid camping trip 

“Maybe I needed an excuse to finally fuck that pretty mouth of yours.” Jake groaned as he felt you shudder under his touch. “I always find myself jerking off to the thought of your lips around me.” His warm breath fanned across the supple skin of your neck before he softly pressed his lips to the juncture of your neck–leaving a gentle kiss against your collarbone that sent instant goosebumps over you like a shock tsunami. “The thought of what your lips would feel like wrapped around me Gigs really makes me question my sanity.” A soft whimper escaped your mouth and vibrated against  the palm of Jake's hand. “But you already know that, you always have, haven't you?” 

“Hey Guys?” Bradley called out from inside the tent to where he knew you and Jake were. All Jake did was press himself further into your back and hold his hand against your mouth a little tighter, willing you to keep quiet as he responded to Rooster.

“What's up Bradshaw, I thought you went to bed ages ago?” 

“Well I tried but your bickering back and forth was kinda hard to ignore–” Neither you nor Jake could contest that statement. “Just try not to kill each other out there, please? And shut the fuck up!” 

“We’re good, aren't we Y/n?” Jake replied as he reluctantly pulled his hand away from your mouth. This was your chance to tell Jake to rack off. This was your chance to tell him you didn't want any of this, that he’d read you wrong and it had all been innocent fun. But he hadn’t read you wrong, you wanted Jake just as badly as he wanted him. You were just too afraid to admit it. 

“Yeah, we’re good.” You added to Jake's surprise. It was all the confirmation he needed. “Night Rooster!” It didn't take long for Jake to spring into action, he was desperate and needed to get you out of his system before you had a chance to fully infect his entire being. If the two of you fucked and got it out of your system, then he could still walk away unscathed. There were feelings bubbling under the surface but Jake Seresin didn't do feelings. 

“Why’d you bring me out here?” You asked as you turned around to face Jake. “You could’ve just asked me to suck you off in the comfort of your own bed?” There wasnt an awful lot of space left between the two of you as you stood shrouded in the soft glow of the moonlight. You made your move and wrapped your arms up and around Jake's shoulders, he followed suit and mirrored your actions by closing the gap, your lips now ghosted his as Jake smiled against you. “I'm sure if you had asked me to, I would have played into your dirty little fantasies.” You could feel Jake trying to kiss you, but much to his display and desperate attempts to feel your lips on his you kept your playful smirk smeared across your face and pulled further away. “I can assure you that whatever fantasy you've concocted that gets you off at night, the real things ten times better.” 

“Just” Jake paused, his hands gripped at your waist to pull you flush against him. He couldn't risk you getting away from him. Not now. “Just didn’t wanna risk the neighbours putting in a noise complaint.” Giggling, you made the move to connect your lips against Jake’s. A heated, passion filled kiss had you both gripping at different parts of each other’s bodies as you walked back closer towards the tent, specifically the fallen tree in front of it.

You pushed Jake down by guiding him with a gentle hand on his shoulder–there was not a single part of his being that objected to your dominance. He felt his dick twitch inside his sweats at the action. You stood before him for a second with a wicked smirk across your face. Jake knew you were into this just as much as he was. 

“Are you just gonna stand there Giggles or are you gonna get to work?” Jake teased you as he trailed a hand up between your legs. “I'm dying here.” You waisted not a second longer as you dropped gracefully to your knees before him. You played with the elastic of Jake's sweats as he helped you wiggled them down his toned and oh so muscular legs–pulling them down towards his ankles until there was nowhere left for them to go except discharged and forgotten about. With a slight chuckle, you gripped his hardened length in your right hand, barely moving your palm up and down his shaft just to watch him swim under your warm touch. 

“Fuck–” Jake sighed in relief as you slowly moved your palm. It was barely nothing, the pad of your thumb swiped across his leaking tip to collect some of his pre cum. The essence of Sersin. “Fucking christ–”  

“Going commando, something you do regularly, Hungman?” You made sure to tease the man putty in your hands before taking his tip in your mouth, you rolled your tongue gently over his flushed tip. Pink and bright and oh so sensitive. The colour of his lips. Sensitive and begging for your unconditional attention. 

“Nah, just somethin’--” Jake couldn't think straight, he couldn’t formulate a full sentence as you worked your hand over him, jerking him off slowly but perfectly. “Oh my god–” Jake moaned, too caught up in the pleasure you were giving him as you took him deeper down your throat, inch by inch, so far down your tiny throat, his manscaped pubic hair tickled the tip of your nose. “Gifs—fuckin’ Christ, where did you learn how to do that?” His voice was raspy and heavy as he tried to control his breathing. His hand made a makeshift ponytail with your hair as you bobbed up and down, gagging softly around Jake's cock as it twitched and leaked pre-cum onto your tongue. With your watery eyes, so lust filled and dowy peering up at him, Jake thought for sure he’d entered the gates of  heaven. 

“Sounds like someone’s a little bit jealous of those who got to cum before you Seresin.” You took Jake's saliva coated cock from your mouth and pumped him with your hand, he watched through hooded eyes as you took both his balls in your mouth softly as you began to glide your tongue gently over the sensitive skin. “Taste so good Jake—“ 

“Fuck—“ This was everything Jake Seresin had fantasised about. “Yess—Y/n, oh my god.'' Jake wasn’t being discreet at all, his moans filled the campground and echoed off the mountains as you jerked his thick throbbing cock and sucked so delicately on his balls. In hindsight, it wasn’t the smartest idea to give Jake head right in front of the tent you both planned on sharing with Bradley Bradshaw. It was needless to say—you’d fucked up. 

As you went back to take Jake entire cock down your throat, you closed your eyes as they watered. Never stopping for a moment to see the familiar silhouette of Bradley standing just behind Jake, watching on as his best friend gave some of the sloppiest head to his other best friend he’d ever seen. He didn’t know how to truly feel about the sight unfolding before him, but Rooster surely felt the strain of his sweats becoming a little more noticeable with every passing second. 

The second Jake saw Bradley, he tried shooing him off, mouthing a soft “fuck off” as he tried to hold his orgasm back. He looked sucked out as all hell and you’d only given him head. He didn’t think he was prepared for how you’d feel fluttering around his length. 

“Uhh! Fuck Giggles, keep doin’ that and I’m going to cum down that pretty fucking throat of yours.” Jake confessed, his hand helped to guide your head down his shaft as you gagged and hummed around him. Bradley’s eyes widened as he made himself scarce, shocked at the sight he just saw. He couldn’t see you like that, he wasn’t Jake. He couldn’t take advantage of you. He couldn’t ruin you like he’d always wanted to. 

“That’s the point Jake, don’t hold back, flood my throat.” You looked up through your lashes, looked up to see Jake's flushed face as his mouth fell open into an O shape, his eyes trained on you as you went back to furiously sucking his cock, hard and fast. Your other hand continued fondling his balls, squeezing them slightly as his orgasm approached. 

“Fuck! Shit, ahhh- Y/n m’cumming, fuck, fuck ohhhh—!” Jake's orgasm washed over him. He could feel the pool at the base of his shaft beginning to overflow, ready to explode. When he did he shot deep down your throat in hot spirits as his cock twitched in your mouth. Jake's entire body stilled as he fell victim to his orgasm, the intense wave of pleasure took over his entire being as he let out a prolonged moan. All consuming. 

“Holy fuck.” Jake sighed heavily as he tried to catch his breath after coming down from his high. He watched as you swallowed his entire load, licking the tip of his swollen length,  making sure nothing was left behind, that nothing was wasted.

“Did that live up to all those naughty thoughts?” You questioned as you sat back on your heels, watching as Jake pulled his sweatpants back up his toned legs—missing the sight of him the second he was covered. 

“Oh” Jake exclaimed, a smile appeared wide and wild on his crimson flushed face as his free hand worked to push back his slightly damp hair. “That exceeded everything I ever thought it would be like.” You nodded, proud of your efforts as you rose to your feet, standing between Jake's legs as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His hands immediately helped your hips still so you couldn’t move. 

He wasn’t done with you yet. 

“Hope it doesn’t change anything between us?” You asked softly, leaning over to plant your lips against his, the slight taste of his cum still evident and present on your swollen lips. Tasting himself for the first time, Jake didn’t quite mind. It made his heart pump with lust and adrenaline as anticipation for what was to come lingered in the air. 

“That won’t change anything.” He whispered into your open mouth, his forehead rested against yours as you maneuvered yourself down to straddle his waist. “But once I watch you suck Rooster off while I fuck that tight cunt I know you’ve got, might be a different story.” Before you could answer, you heard what sounded like Bradleys metal water bottle falling to the ground from inside the tent.

“What!?” Bradley shouted as you did the same, only softer yet just as confused. Jake didn’t just say that—did he? 

“C’mon Gigs,” Jake smirked as he placed some of your freely flowing hair behind your ear. “Bradley saw what you just did and I know he has the same twisted thoughts as me, s’not fair now is it?”

You didn’t respond right away as Jake moved your jumper to the side and kissed at your collarbone—the moonlight danced across his tones shoulders as you mulled over his proposal. To be completely objectifying, Bradley Bradshaw was incredibly attractive. You couldn’t deny you’d thought about him from time to time when you found yourself alone and in need of a release. You just thought it was completely out of the realm of possibility. 

Turns out with Jake's help, it wasn’t. 

“I guess not.” You answered meekly before kissing Jake once more, your tongue dancing with his gracefully, like you were searching for his soul and he yours. Jake waisted not a second more as he picked you up and had you straddle his waist. He walked you over to the small two-man that was inevitably going to be a three man tent and dropped you to your feet at the door. 

“Bradshaw, you have a total of five seconds to open this door before I change my mind on sharing.” As Jake spoke through the tent door, you began taking your jumper off, exposing your bare chest to him, his jaw hanging open when he noticed your perky tits. Kissed by the chill of the cool night. 

“Oh fuck.” His voice was unrecognisably low and full of lust. “Maybe I shouldn’t be so keen on sharing you.” His hand came out to grip your right nipple between his index finger and thumb as Bradley opened the door, already naked and hard as ever. A slight wince left your lips from the sudden pinch Jake gave your nipple as he rolled it between the pads of his index finger and thumb. 

“I uh—“ Bradley stuttered, rubbed at the back of his head like a school boy who’d been caught writing crude and inappropriate comments on his desk. “I was already jerking off after I saw you take Jake balls deep in your throat.” Bradleys cock twitched against his lower abdomen as he sat back awkwardly. He’d only reached up to unzip the tent door. 

Jake pulled hard against your nipple, making you walk closer to him before shoving you gently into the tent, a sinful smile grew upon your face as Bradley lost his positioning and fell back, welcoming you into the tiny room as he reached out to stop you from falling on top of his. He looked all kinds of nervous, worried even. 

“S’okay Rooster.” You cooed innocently enough for him to let his guard down slightly. “I promise I won't bite unless you want me to.” You teased, dropping to your knees before him while Bradley worked quickly to lay down on his back, hands resting behind his head. 

“I can't believe we’re fucking doing this? This is crazy we shouldn’t I mean, c’mon Jake it's Y/n for fuck sake, she’s our bes–” Bradley couldnt finish his sentence, the second your lips were taking the tip of his throbbing length inside your warm mouth he lost all sense of insecurity about the situation. Nothing else mattered expert for your excerpt touch. The sensation of euphoria you bought him. “Oh holy shit” Your hand wrapped tightly around the base of this shaft as your tongue ran up the thick vein that ran up his entire shaft. Your lips felt heavenly around his sensitive and exposed, pre-cum covered tip and before Rooster could even wrap his mind around what it truly was extracurricular activities he was about to engage in–you had sunk lower and lower, taking every inch of his thick cock in your mouth. 

Without hesitation. 

Bradley tip was slightly darker than Jakes, you didn’t need much time at all for your throat to adjust to the foreign object making its presence known in the back of your throat over and over again due to you just having just finished sucking the life from Jake. You were prepped and ready to be whatever they needed you to be under the stars and away from the hullabaloo of Miramar. Tonight you weren't Lieutenant Y/n Giggles Y/L/N–you were Hangman and Roosters little fuck toy. 

You got to work in no time, gagging and roughly sucking up and down Bradley’s entire shaft, watching through hooded eyes as Bradley moaned and groaned uncontrollably from the pleasure he was receiving. You were between his legs as he reached out for your head, guiding you down his length. You felt Jake's hands come to the waistband of your sweatpants, he pulled them down as your mouth continued to bob up and down on Bradley’s cock. 

“Huh?'' Jake scoffed as he bit hard on his bottom lip. “Going commando, something you do regularly, Giggles?” He teased as his large slightly calloused hands slid up and over your peachy ass as it stuck up in the air, ready for his length to slide in your drenched cunt. Smiling around Bradley’s cock you gaged slightly. Pumping Bradley’s shaft with your hand as you went to answer Jake. You could very much feel his tip gliding over your dripping lips from behind. You were ready and oh so needy for him to fill your needy little pussy. 

“Nah, just something—“ You began to mimic what Hangman had told you before, but you didn't have enough time to give him attitude before you felt Jake push himself between your slick folds. He trusted his thick cock inside you, slowly, he stretched your tight pussy out so much so it almost stung. But it felt good, oh so fucking good.  “Ahhh fuck!” You cried around Bradley’s cock now balls deep down your throat. It was a position you never thought you’d find yourself in. Sucking Bradley’s cock while Jake took you from behind, taking both your best friends at the same time.

“You like this Y/n? like how we both fuck you?“ Jake asked as he bottomed out inside your tight cunt, he could feel you clench around the bottom of his cock, tip pressed against your cervix. Bradley roughly pulled you up by your hair, watching as spit trailed from your bottom lip to his swollen tip. With a needy gasp, you looked up at him wickedly, begging him to use you just with a lustful look. 

“Answer the question Y/n, do you like the way we both fuck you?” Bradley’s voice had turned into a low deep growl, his eyes had darkened from the dust brown you were familiar with to a near black mirage, full of lust unlike moments ago when he almost backed out–unsure of the decision he made to fuck his best friend. As Jake's hands gripped your hips and began to thrust faster in and out of you, you moaned in response. 

“Uh huh, l love the way you both feel ohh—god Jake you’re so big, fuck me–” Hearing you moan how big his cock was sent Jake into the stratasphere with his ego in toe, with your encouragement he began to fuck you harder, with more force. Bradley forced your head back down onto his cock, both his hands guiding your head up and down using your hair. Like you were his personal flesh light. 

“You weren’t fucking wrong man, her mouths so damn good.” Bradley’s hips beginning to lift off the ground as he fucked your mouth. Stopping every few minutes to pull you off him just so he could look at how pretty your fucked face looked. Your tears were so beautiful, all because of him. 

“Wait till you feel her tight cunt, fuck so tight its almost hard to move.” Jake was relentlessly pounding into you, the sound of his balls smacking against the curve of your ass could be heard in the silence that lingered between grunts and unapologetically loud moans of pure ecstasy. 

“Jake! Please, I'm gonna cum!” You cried, the coil within your core had begun to tighten every time Jakes tip pressed against your cervix. Bradley sat up, his hand came flying to your mouth as he shoved three of his digits inside your mouth, opening your jaw wide before leaning in close to you.

“That’s it Y/n, cum around Hangman’s cock so I can fuck you harder, fuck you till you black out, fuck you till your begging for me to stop.” Bradleys words had you nearly ascending as he coaxed you towards your high with just his words. “I wanna feel how tight your cunt is.”

“Rooster, choke her when she cums–” Jake ordered, Bradley waisted not a second as he wrapped his hand around throat and pressed his fingers into the side of your supple neck. He reached between your legs to softly rub small circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves, an instantaneous quiver left your throat as his finger made contact, Bradley never for a second took his eyes off yours. He wanted to see you come undone like this, all for him and Jake. Just for him and Jake. 

“Ahh! F-fuck, m’cumming!” You whimpered as Braldey tightened his hold on your throat, he could see the small veins appearing in your forehead from the lack of oxygen but knew by the look in your eyes alone that you were loving this just as much as he was. Your pussy clenching so tightly around Jake's slicked up cock he almost stilled from the grip. 

“Ahh fuck! Rooster, holy fuck she’s like a vice!” Jake groaned as he fucked you hard through your high. “She’s creaming around my dick, fuck—” This had been Jake Seresin greatest idea, to fuck his best friends.

Bradley began to fuck your face with the same fingers he’d teased your clit with, he made you gag on them as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, trembling as you came hard around Jakes cock. Once he saw you coming down from your high, Bradle tentatively removed his hand from around your throat, watching with wide eyes as you gasped heavily for air, welcoming the new wave of oxygen that you’d been deprived of into your lungs. Tears streamed down your fucked out face. 

“Jake let me fuck her—“ Bradley whimpered out desperately as he pumped his cock fast. He waited for Jake to pull out and share, but he was ready to explode. He gripped your chin with a wicked glare as he squashed your lips together. “You don't know what you're in for, baby.”  It was a warning but you quivered with excitement nevertheless before Rooster stuck the pad of his thumb between your lips and spat into your mouth, rubbing your bottom lip with his thumb. “You’re gonna ride my dick.” Bradley told you with no hesitation evident in his tone as you nodded with eagerness. Jake pulled out of you with a hard slap to your right ass cheek, causing you to let out a whine.  

“Ah!” You hissed as the sting lingered well after Jakes had left your ass, you immediately crawled closer to Bradley and straddled his waist, you manoeuvred his length to line up with your creaming entrance. Jake wasted no time in coming to stand above Bradley, his cock throbbing, ready to explode yet again as he moved your sweat covered hair to one side.

“Uhh fuck!” You whined as you sunk onto Bradley’s slightly thicker cock, his hands roamed your naked body as Jake pulled your mouth back onto his cock, needy for your mouth yet again.

“Holy fuck! Ah fuck, fuck, fuck, god you're so tight! So fuckin’ tight Y/n ride my dick just like that, yes—!” Bradley mumbled, continuously biting his bottom lip as he felt you bounce on his cock. He was in heaven, you were the best pussy he’d ever had. 

“Told you.” Jake moaned from above, his hands held onto both sides of your face as he bucked his hips softly into your throat, letting you do most of the work as he focused on chasing his second high of the night. “Slap her ass.” And so Bradley did, he slapped your ass over and over, harder every time you came down on his cock, the sting was so deep you knew you’d have a reminder of the night the come morning.

“Fuck can I cum inside you? fuck please say yes?” Bradley whimpered as you rode him, Jake took his cock from your mouth before slapping it against your open and awaiting tongue.

“Answer him!” He hissed, so close to his second orgasm it was making his eyes water and his knees weak. 

“Y-yes fuck, Rosoter! flood my fucking pussy, please!” You cried out into the secluded tent, completely exhausted and fucked out. Bradley gripped at your hips before bending his knees, fucking up into you so hard and fast you fell forward onto Jakes cock, deep throating him unexpectedly and bringing him to that sweet sweet orgasm he’d been chasing. 

“Oh fuck fuck fuck!” Jake groaned, pulling his cock from your mouth and pulling your hair back, exposing your entire face in front of him as he pumped his throbbing cock in his hand, hot spurts of cum were quick to come flying all over your fucked-out face. “Arrgghhh yes baby that's it, look so pretty covered in my cum.” 

Jakes cum completely covered your face, a facial so thick it dripped down your chin and neck as it slowly made its way to your perky tits. 

“Oh god you look so fucking hot like that.” Jake confessed, running this thumb over your bottom lip to collect some of his cum before making you suck it off. Bradley wasn’t far behind, never slowing his thrust for a second while Jake unloaded all over your face.

“M’cummingRoo! Fuck don’t stop!” You gasped aloud, your voice broke as you reached between Bradley and yourself to rub your throbbing sensitive bud. “Aaah- fuck yes!” You moaned a heavenly near pornographic groan as you came hard around Bradley Bradshaw, squirting unexpectedly all over him in the process.

“Yes! Yes! Oh fuck I’m uhhh—“ Bradley spilled his entire load into your tight cunt, creating a mixture of your cum and his as Jakes dripped from your face down your chest.

“What— what fuck just happened?” You all asked each other as both Jake and Bradley cleaned you off, completely taken aback at the events that had just passed now that your need and lust had begun to fade. 

***~***~***~***

You didn’t know at what part of the movie you fell deep into thought, reminiscing about the camping trip you took a week ago with your best friends but it was the sound of Jake’s voice that brought you out of it, only to realise you had been rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves the entire time, right there on his lounge. Hand sunk low into your sweats. 

“And what do you think you’re doing?” He questioned, leaning against the wall casually before he began sauntering over to you with a devilish smirk upon his face.  

“I uh, I uh don’t” You stuttered, fumbling around as you sat up. You knew you had been caught, but you still tried your best to act like you had no idea what he was talking about. “How long were you just standing there watching me for like some weirdo?” Jake ignored your question. He was on a mission. 

“Were you thinking about our camping trip?” Jake asked as he slowly walked over, unbuckling his belt as you noticed the hard girth showing through his dress pants, having just come back from a meeting. He was so hard it looked painful. It was painful. You looked down at Jake's crotch for a little too long, then up, down then back up, Jake’s eyes had been locked on you the entire time. Working to stand before you—his belt slipping around your neck as he tightened the loop. His hand guided yours over his clothes cock—begging for your touch. 

“Or was it just me?”

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⌨︎ ⁩◞ HERO FANBOY — ! ❪shoto todoroki❫

SYNOPSIS ୨୧ ! which a certain hero from ua crushes (hard) on a idol ! headcanon, ooc shoto

FANBOY SHOTO! He wasn't interested in kpop activities, heck he hardly known anything about kpop in general.

He started knowing about them because of his brother natsuo who bought a heck ton of albums and blasting music in his room.

He side-eye his brother when he's screaming because he got your WINK-PHOTOCARD, as he keep screaming " omg! ITS SO SPARKS "

he saw the photocard and he was like " oh she's pretty " but disregard it afterwards BUTT

DIDNT KNOW HE WOULD FELL THAT HARD

he saw one of your recent comebacks on tv because his brother is streaming it and gahdam ur fucking SPARKLING ON STAGE.

At first he started knowing your group, YOU FIRST then streaming your group songs, your debut solo, collabs. streaming your group shows and music bank AND ALL THOSE

started buying albums too with natsuo. FINALLY HE HAVE SOMEONE IN THE FAMILY WHO WILL BE IN DEPT FOR LIFE BUYING ALBUMS

Natsuo asked who is his bias without hesitation he said your name, bro was smirking so bad at his lil bro BECAUSE YOU ARE THE MAKNAE OF YOUR GROUP, also half japanese and same age as him.

Bro was blushing whenever the camera pans at your face and smirking and doing that HE WAS GETTING HOTTER THAN HIS QUIRK

have a well known kpop stan twitter account who always make short comment about you but ICONIC because of how pure and sweet it is

doesnt know it but actually fell inlove with you NOT BECAUSE OF UR FACE (its a plus on him) but because of your determination and hard work, humour and personality is just CHEFS KISS

no one knows about his obsession welp it almost slip up when he accidently unplug his wired earphones to his phone AND SUDDENLY BLASTING Nobody knows by your group.

he lied he is just a casual listener

defends you on twitter, he looks like a soft boy but damn he is a beast on roasting BUT FAILS CAUSE HE CAN ONLY CUSS AT THEM

dedicated to buy front row tickets when your group finally have a concert there at your hometown

BRO WAS FIGHTING FOR LIFE AT THE POOR CONNECTION

bro brought the vip tickets for him and his big bro (with his dads money ofc, not like his father would know)

bro brought the 2 tickets for each day

won a fancall with you once but DAMN IT HIS HERO STUFF IS GETTING ON THE WAY

poor bby sulked the whole day that he missed the call, he was practicing his lines and tone for you

brought many batteries for his lightstick

make sure he is lookin good (not like he isn't good looking)

bro wake up early asf he want to be there as fast

bro became popular fan after one pictured him as the guy from the (group name) concert at jpn

he didnt know he bacame popular, he just saw his face 3 days after the concert on stan twt

BRO WHEN YOU TWO MAKE EYE CONTACT HE HAS HEART EYES

BRO WAS WHIPPED ASF

you are one stubborn fuck saw this cute guy with a scar and went through the barricades even though security was trying to get you back in stage cause its just a sound check and your safety too

Bro you came closer to him and saw his instax reaching for you. MADE A HEART CHEEK AT HIS FACE AND CAME CLOSER TO HIS FACE

bro almost want to faint right then and there.

you went after that he was kinda sad but happy he got a selfie WITH HIM

making this his lockscreen and making a frame of this treasured photo

You kept stealing glances at him and interacting with hand language, asking if he already eat lunch or just blantly flirting with him

LUCKIEST FAN

natsuo kept pushing his shoulders for every interaction at their section BUT MAINLY YOU ARE FOCUSED ON HIS BROTHER

bro when he came back from school BRO WAS BOMBARDED WITH QUESTIONS LIKE

" I DIDNT KNOW UR A FAN TODOROKI! " " WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME UR A FAN, I WANT TO BUY TICKETS TOO " " i didn't know todoroki listens to kpop " "BRO DID U HAVE PICS AND VID OF (your leader name) "

was now known as poker face but listens to puppy love by (groupname)

After that twt post of him being a handsome fan THEN PEOPLE STARTED SAYING HE WAS THE KID FROM UA, ENDEAVOR SON AND ALL THOSE SHIT

have an article of him now being the hero fan boy

boy he didnt give a shit about them, he just wanting to chill

but that didnt start there

your member posted on weverse a video of you taken, watching the sports festival and chanting HIS NAME AND BETTING THAT HE WOULD 1st PLACE

bro became the luckiest fan alive

saying he is the luckiest fan and hero and all of those then actually GONNA MEET YOU

you have a campaign like a collab with a hero AND THAT IS HIS DAD

participating on a event JUST TO SEE YOU

he did and boy was he nervous

he kept stuttering at the end of his sentence

then because actually friend with you, a little bit touchy side BUT HE IS A GENTELEMAN just subtle glances and touches

got your number and him posting a selfie of you two on twt (he made another acc just to post boast that picture)

after that he was well known as the hero fanboy who will soon in the future marry his idol

that woud be a story in another time <3

#FANBOY SHOTO BRAINROT #wrote this because i have cookie crumbs of an idea #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha todoroki #todoroki x y/n #todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki headcanons #todoroki fluff #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x you #shoto x reader #bnha shoto todoroki #shoto x y/n #shoto todoroki #shouto x reader #shouto x you #bnha x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #mha x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #bnha

[star-suh]

Three Boys.

Lee Sangyeon & Lee Juyeon x Male Reader.

cw: tops sangyeon and juyeon, pwp, cock kiss, rimjob, blowjob, deepthroat, spit roasting, spitplay, some sangyeon x juyeon moments, they're pornstars.

—

y/n was one of the most prominent stars in recent months in the porn industry so it was not surprising that he received messages asking for collaborations. of the many that he had, one caught his attention “lee fucking sangyeon and lee fucking juyeon want to make a collab with me? i feel like i'm gonna faint” putting one hand on his forehead acting as if he was indeed going to faint.

the day has come and here they are, the three boys installing all the cameras quickly so they can dive right into the sex part of the video.

juyeon and y/n started kissing while stroking each other's cock and sangyeon went straight to y/n's ass burying himself on it while groping his ass.

gushy sounds were coming from y/n's hole, the constant spits of sangyeon and his wet tongue were leaving his ass dilated “probably the best cake i've ever ate” joked sangyeon with a string of saliva connecting his chin to the other male's hole.

juyeon tongue was exploring the inside os y/n's mouth, spitting on it and then sucking his tongue while using his hands to spread the ass cheeks of the bottom so sangyeon can fuck the bottom's deeper with his wet muscle.

sangyeon stood up and guide y/n's mouth to his cock, he started licking the tip going down to his balls and smell them “love the smell” praised y/n swallowing the cock all at once. the sudden deepthroat caught sangyeon off guard making him moan and his body started spasming due to the immense pleasure “damn what a skilled cocksucker”. juyeon joined seconds later helping y/n to suck the other's cock.

their tongues were going up and down taking turns to suck the tip and lick the pre-cum. then their mouths clashed in a kiss, with sangyeon's dick in the middle, the sight making the older male's cock throb.

sangyeon sat in a sofa with y/n straddling him getting ready to take his cock, he sat on it slowly enjoying the stretching sensation. then he moved his hips and started riding it, squeezing it everytime he goes down. meanwhile juyeon mouthfucked y/n, locking his strong hands around the other's head forcing him to deepthroat his cock for 10 seconds.

“6. 7. that's right, just a little more.. 8. 9. 10. here you go” juyeon free the male's head watching how many strands of thick saliva connected his soaked shaft to y/n's lustful mouth.

now it's juyeon's time to fuck that sweet hole “it's already so stretched so i guess that i can put it all in at once” and as he said he slammed himself onto y/n pushing him against the sofa drawing a growl out of him “you fucking … bastard” cried y/n in pleasure, enjoying juyeon's thrusts.

sangyeon didn't want to stay doing anything so he decided to eat juyeon's ass first, his tongue licking that tight ring of muscles. when he finished doing that, he now focused on licking and spitting on juyeon's cock every time he entered y/n's hole. juyeon took out his entire cock for sangyeon to suck and then inserted it back into y/n, repeating the action many more times.

with y/n now straddling and riding juyeon, sangyeon rubbed his cock between the bottom's ass cheeks. juyeon then pulls out and sangyeon enters. they started taking turns in fucking that lustful ass.

y/n positioned himself in a doggy position so they can fuck his two holes, juyeon in the mouth and sangyeon in the ass. both tops locked hands and kissed each other while slamming themselves into y/n. the bottom was feeling so much pleasure that his eyes rolled back and he started to stroke his dick to cum.

“he's squeezing me so hard with his throat” growled juyeon. “same here” said sangyeon “i think he's going to cum” and as soon as sangyeon said that y/n came, staining the couch with his cum. juyeon kept fucking that tight throat until that he floods him with his cum “that's right dude, drink all my milk” tears staining y/n's cheek while he struggle swallowing the thick cum with the dick still throbbing inside his mouth.

on the other side sangyeon stroke himself shooting his seed straight on y/n's gaping hole as if it were a target shooting game “now let me churn it” he said introducing his dick again thrusting a couple of times.

Y/n kneels and takes both cocks with her hands, trying to suck both at the same time and put them inside her mouth. Despite his attempts, he can't because of how thick they are, so he dedicated himself to leaving them clean of semen..

“thanks for today guys it was amazing” a shy y/n waved a goodbye to the pair of dudes in front of him. “we also loved spending time with you, give us a call if you want to hang out and record another collab” sangyeon winked.”bye” waved juyeon blowing a kiss towards y/n… “they're so hot” sighs y/n, being whipped for those two men who seem sculpted by the gods themselves.

#lee juyeon x male reader #juyeon x male reader #sangyeon x male reader #lee sangyeon x male reader #juyeon x male reader smut #lee juyeon x male reader smut #juyeon smut #lee sangyeon x male reader smut #sangyeon x male reader smut #sangyeon smut #male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #smut #male reader smut

[deadghosy]

★Imagines of them accidentally hitting you★

Robin Arellano

You probably sneaked attacked him making him go into fight or flight mode. Which is definitely fight mode. So he swings and hits you, making you fall on your ass flat.

“CARIÑO, WTF WERE YOU THINKING?!”

He’s just yelling at you in Spanish now cause of that stupid ass stunt you pulled.

"¡NO PUEDO CREER QUE TE HAYA GOLPEADO! ¿SABES LO MALO QUE ES?”

So after him yelling at you while making sure he didn’t leave a bruise on you. After he sees there are no bruises, he definitely smacks your head.

“Fucking dumbass.” “Robin, I said I was sorry-”

Finney Blake

You scared him as a prank by putting a killer clown mask. Which you didn’t expect was that he actually fought back by punching you.

I guess those lessons from robin paid off.

“ARRGHHH” “AH WTF” *punches you*

You kinda hit the ground too hard to the point this mf knocked you out.

Finn pulls the mask off of you to expect some random asshole, but indeed the asshole was you. So finney freaked out about punching you.

“Y/n?! OH GOD IM SO SORRY!!”

Starts thinking he killed you cause you haven’t responded to him about 5 minutes until you woke up.

“awOah!” You sat up straight and looked at him. “Damn Finn where the hell did you learn how to punch hard?” “Robin.” “Of fucking course…”

Gets you an ice pack and says sorry but also saying that he isn’t cause you shouldn’t have done that.

Vance Hopper

Tbh he would probably hit you cause he probably thought you was some douche trying to mess up his score.

You grabbed his shoulder roughly and this man went full on fight mode like Robin.

*grabs you arm and starts twisting it, then kicks your legs to make you fall”

“VANCE, VANCE ITS FUCKING ME, CHILL!!”

He actually sees its you and clicks his tongue. He picks you up from the ground, carries you on his back to his house.

He actually takes good care of the bruises he caused you. And to make sure you learn your lesson, he smacks where it hurts on your legs and arm.

“OUCH, Wtf dude?!” “Should’ve dodged like I taught you dumbass…”

𝓑𝓻𝓾𝓬𝓮 𝓨𝓪𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓪

Now we all know how clumsy you are sometimes but you are a totally dunce.

Apparently you weren’t looking where you were going by looking away while walking on the baseball field.

Short story, Bruce hit you with his baseball bat cause you were behind him.

He didn’t even know you were behind him. He was too busy practicing how to swing much better.

“MOTHER FUCKER” “FUCKING COW ON A ROASTED STICK” “ARRGGHHH”

“Stop complaining. I’m literally just putting ice to make sure it won’t swell up more.”

“Don’t you love me?” :,( “don’t try that shit with me y/n”

“NO PUEDO CREER QUE TE GOLPEÉ, ¿SABES LO MALO QUE ES ESO?!” = “I CANT BELIEVE I HIT YOU, DO YOU KNOW HOW BAD THAT IS?!”

Cariño=Dear

┆HEY Deadghosy here! I hope you like this imagine. Mwah I hope you are all having a wonderful day/night! DEADGHOSY OUT PEACE!

#vance the black phone #vance hopper x reader #the black phone 2022 #black phone x reader #the black phone #the black phone x reader #finney shaw #finney blake #robin arellano #robin arellano x reader #finney x reader #bruce yamada #bruce x reader #bruce yamada x reader #fluffy #fluff #random #imainges #writing #funny images #80s #70s

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Sacrificed to a Dragon

  Yandere Male Half-Dragon x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Half-dragon monster man, smut, rut cycles, a really shitty village community, dub-con, general yandere behavior) Word Count 1.3k (Once again tumblr is not allowing me to reply to a request directly with the fic as a reply to it in my blog’s inbox the request this fic is for is as follows:  “Hi! I could ask for a scenario of a female reader x yandere male half dragon? The reader is left in the dragon's cave as a sacrifice, she thinks she can get free if she tries to get along with him, but unfortunately she arrives at the time when he just happened to be in heat and was looking for a mate to breed.” Sorry that this request is gender neutral rather than female and also that it took nearly 2 months for me to finally start it! But... it's finished and it was free and I hope you like it!)   You lived in a peaceful idyllic village in a lush valley situated between large mountains. Resources were plentiful, and you were far away from any wars or strife.   Sure you wanted a bit more excitement, but all in all things were pretty damn good. Little did you know you were about to get more excitement than you knew what to do with.   One day an obsidian scaled half-dragon male, easily 9ft. tall, entered the peaceful valley and began harassing your village. Stealing livestock and crops sometimes even smashing a house or other building for seemingly no reason other than boredom.   Your community was at its wits’ end, finally the elders of your village gathered the town to discuss a solution.   It was decided after much debate that based on the old stories of dragons that they would try to offer it what food they could spare, some valuables, and a human to eat or do with as it wished and hope that it would be appeased.   It was decided without much debate at all that you should be the sacrifice. You were not too old to make a bad meal, and you had no living family in the village so no one would have to mourn you.   You were marched up to the dragon’s cave where he made his lair and made to carry a sack of gold and a basket of fruits and vegetables. You were shoved forward.   You knew there was no going back your village had abandoned you here to die, but maybe if you were super nice and helpful the dragon would allow you to leave.     The dragon was slumbering in the center of his den, lying peacefully on a large simple bed he had made stuffed with feathers and straw. His dark scales in stark contrast with his porcelain skin. You moved past him nervously, shuddering at the sight of his sharp claws, pointed teeth, and pointy horns, and entered the room you were looking for, the kitchen.   You set about cooking an amazing pork roast with a side of baked potatoes, carrots, and rolls. All food you had brought as part of his offering.   The mighty dragon arose from his nap to the smell of mouth watering food and a lot of confusion. He went into his kitchen to discover a tiny human daring to infiltrate his lair.   “And just what do you think you’re doing??” He growled menacingly at you. You shuddered as he entered the room, he was much larger up close and now that he was not curled up asleep you could see more details. He had a long slender tail, and hard shiny black scales covered him from the waste down, they also encased is arms, and framed his face. His eyes were a very pale yellow, almost white, and the pupils were similar to a cats.   “Uh, well, the village made me come here as a sacrifice. I thought maybe you’d like to wake up to food!” You control your nerves and hand him a tray full of food, averting your gaze as you hand it to him, unable to look him in the eyes.   “Hmmm… well I don’t detect any poison… not that it would work anyway…” He took the tray in one hand and grabbed your arm in the other, pulling you into his main den were he sat you beside him.   “So… what’s your name little human? I cannot just call you “mate” all the time, you probably cannot pronounce my full name, just call me Wrathyn.” The dragon hybrid took a few bites of food. “Wow this is really good!”   “I’m (Y/N)… wait, what? Did you uh, say mate??”   “Yeah, I mean that’s why you are here right? You came into my den without fear and made us food. I think you will be a good mate (Y/N)” Wrathyn went back to his food as he draped one of his large wings over you protectively.   Uh-oh, you had hoped he would let you go, you had not expected he would want you to be his partner. You definitely weren’t about to correct him though for fear he might hurt you.   “I guess I have to stop attacking your village now. That’s okay I guess, it was mostly out of from boredom and frustration from my rut cycle. But now you’re here so that won’t be a problem... Here you should eat too.” The large dragon male held his fork full of food to your mouth and once more you were too scared to tell him no so you opened your mouth and let him feed you a portion of the plate until he decided you had enough.   Wrathyn was surprisingly sweet for a large dragon hybrid that had been terrorizing your village. Maybe he really did just need a mate. You still feared him and would rather be home, but maybe it wouldn’t be sooooo terrible being here.   He came back from putting the dishes away and picked you up suddenly. Sensing your nervousness he nuzzled into your neck to calm you down.   “Don’t worry (Y/N), I won’t hurt ya! But like I said earlier, I am in rut so I really need to slide in you already~” You were pretty terrified, but honestly, what could you do. You would not fare well if you angered the owner of those pointed teeth and razor sharp claws, so you took a deep breath and tried to calm down.   Wrathyn used a single claw to slice your clothing away with ease, his large slimy cock now prodded against your hole. It looked so strange, protruding from a genital slit that you had not seen previously, it was large, pink, and moist with a tapered tip.   As scared as you were you had to admit you were pretty aroused. Being held by a muscular dragon hybrid over his inhumane cock was more thrilling than terrifying. You just hoped he would not ram it in, you were much smaller than he was.

  Luckily, he had no intention of causing you harm. His tip leaked a generous amount of precum which made his already moist member extremely slippery. That combined with the tip being so tapered made it exceedingly easy for him to slide right on in.   Wrathyn still held you in his muscular arms, one hand on your soft ass and the other supporting your back as he impaled you easily. The strong dragon moved your entire body in sync with his thrusts, pulling you down a bit on his cock with every forward movement of his hips.   He reached depths inside you far deeper than any human lover could ever hope to, and leaking out more warm slick precum all the while as he did it. It just felt so oily, warm, and lewd inside you, increasing your arousal greatly.   You started grinding your hips into him instinctually chasing your orgasm. The dragon kissed you deeply, his tongue slipping past your lips and invading your mouth. Suddenly making love like this isn’t enough for you anymore. And right on cue, as if reading your thoughts, he pinned you into a mating press.   Wrathyn began pounding into you much faster and harder, his base and primal need to mate during his rut partially taking over his rational mind. He ghosted his sharp teeth over your neck as he relentlessly dove his dick into you. The knowledge he could use those sharp teeth to end you so easily made you feel so week and vulnerable and there was something strangely titillating about it.   He came inside you deeply, unleashing a torrent of his seed into you that was much warmer than normal human cum, the sensation of being filled so completely took you over your own edge and your entire body shook as you came. You panted and went limp with exhaustion as he peppered your face and neck with a barrage of small kisses.   His cock neither left you or softened.   “So, (Y/N), ready for round two?”   Maybe being a dragon’s mate was not as easy as you had begun to think it would be...

#yandere teratophilia #male yandere x gn reader #yandere monster #yandere x reader #yandere dragon #dragon boyfriend #monster boyfriend #anon request #My OC Wrathyn #My OCs

[miriel-elenna]

Dean didn't expect to make it three years.

Hell, let's be honest, after all the bullshit of his entire life, he hadn't expected to make it to the wedding, a wedding, any wedding. He'd given that dream up years ago, because no one in their right mind would look at Dean Winchester and think, yeap, that's they guy I'm gonna marry.

Lucky for Dean, Cas was crazy. Crazy like a fox. Which worked just fine since Dean wasn't exactly on his rocker either.

Dean was determined to not take any day, any second, for granted. He had plans. Schemes, even. He was gonna rock Cas' socks clear off.

It all started before the sun came up. For once, Dean was the early riser, too excited for the day to sleep too much. The February morning dawned clear and cold as Dean snuck around their house, quietly pulling things out and setting things up.

The breakfast nook was set up just so, the sunny yellow table cloth, flowers in a vase, and a new, leather-bound journal carefully placed beside Cas' plate, a honeycomb decorated pen clipped to the cover.

By the time Cas rolled out of bed, the coffee was already made and the bacon had just finished cooking. Dean poured batter into the Death Star waffle maker, one of their awesomer wedding gifts, as the floorboards creaked, announcing Cas' entrance into the kitchen.

Dean turned around, Cas' coffee mug in his hand, the special one from Jack that only a parent could love. Cas' eyes were still sleepy but soft as he looked at what was waiting for him.

Dean grinned and held out the steaming mug, "Happy anniversary, sweetheart."

Cas smiled and took the mug, taking a slow sip and then setting it down on the counter behind Dean. He reached up and placed his hand on Dean's cheek, drawing Dean into a slow, tender kiss.

"Good morning, my love," Cas said, voice still rough with sleep. They kissed again, impossible to stop at only one. "Happy anniversary," Cas murmured as two kisses turned into three, four, five.

The waffle maker beeped, time and space re-asserting themselves.

"Don't want the waffles to burn," Dean mumbled, before diving in to steal one last kiss from Cas' smiling lips.

Cas hummed and leaned back before Dean could steal another. "Wouldn't want to waste all of your hard work." He grabbed the plate of bacon off of the counter and took it to the table.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Dean grumbled with a grin. "Just save me some of the bacon this time, okay?"

"I make no promises," Cas said around the crunch of smoky, salty, meaty perfection.

"Love you too, asshole," Dean laughed, the sound of Cas' chuckle music in his ears.

The rest of the day went off without a hitch, Dean and Cas trading surprise gifts. When Dean went out to his wood shop to do a little work, soft new work gloves were waiting on his bench. A sturdy leather messenger bag, the White Tree of Gondor worked into the flap, was hanging on the hook by the door, a replacement for Cas' old, threadbare foraging bag. New boots were sitting by the back door when Dean came in for lunch, black and shiny and almost too nice to wear outside. Cas was wearing the belt that Dean had left coiled in the drawer, with that gaudy purple "Cowgirl" belt buckle leftover from their bachelor party, the one that matched the pink buckle stored in Dean's top drawer.

Dean might've had to open that belt up, get down on his knees, and indulge in a little afternoon delight right there in the kitchen. It hadn't been part of the plan but who gave a damn. The sight of Cas above him, panting, eyes closed and face flushed as he came down, was worth a little detour.

Or a long detour. Whatever. It was their anniversary, they could fuck if they wanted.

Dinner was candle-lit, because Dean was a romantic, goddamnit. The pot roast had been braising low and slow for most of the day and Cas had made the best cherry pie that Dean'd ever eaten.

Soon enough they were lazing on the couch, lamplight golden around them, watching the fire in the fireplace flicker and spark.

"I have another present for you," Cas said as his fingers combed slow and lazy through Dean's hair.

"Well ain't that lucky, cause I've got another one for you, too," Dean drawled.

Getting up from the couch was hard, but Dean'd been waiting for weeks to unveil this last gift.

The bundle he pulled out from its secret hidey hole in the back of the closet unfurled into a long leather coat, soft as butter and lined with wool.

"Oh, Dean, it's wonderful," Cas said. He pulled a box out from behind his back and they traded bundles.

Dean set the box down and lifted the lid carefully off. His eyes went wide when he saw what was inside, and he couldn't help bouncing and clapping his hands, just a little.

"Is that what I think it is?" Dean asked, voice a little breathless and a touch giddy.

"I'm afraid I've played right into your cowboy fetish," Cas said with a long-suffering sigh. He reached around Dean and pulled the cowboy hat out and placed it on Dean's head. It fit perfectly. Of course it did.

Cas' arms were secure around Dean's waist and he dropped a kiss on the back of Dean's neck. "I love you, Dean."

Dean turned in his arms and kissed him soundly on the lips. "I love you, too. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

He pulled out of Cas' arms and grabbed his wrist, tugging him urgently toward the bedroom. "Come on, buddy. I've got a cowboy to ride."

Cas groaned, but followed quickly behind him. "I've created a monster."

The hat, of course, stayed on the whole time.

Now posted to AO3 as Three Year Gone

#supernatural #destiel #deancas #deancas fanfic #destielvalentineexchange2024 #destiel fanfic #what can i say it's their third anniversary and im inspired #spn #miriel writes

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

yay!! the gift has been gifted, so here's the little ficlet i wrote for @thefreakandthehair's wedding gift zine!!! congratulations Lex!!!!!

pairing: steddie | word count: 1,313 | rated: G | on AO3: it started with the oven

It started with the oven.

Well, with him complaining about the oven, to be specific. The house those government folks put them up in after everything happened last year was new to them o’course, but nowhere near brand-spankin’. Still had some issues to work out.

“Sorry boys, roast might be a bit crispy on one side. Damn oven is acting up again.” 

Wayne didn’t notice it that first time, but Steve immediately perked up, the look completely throwing off his attempted casualness about what he said next.

“I can help you fix it if you like.”

Without even looking at his nephew, Wayne knows they’re both giving Steve twin looks of confusion.

“You know how to fix an oven? How in the hell do you know how to fix an oven?” Eddie asks, half incredulous, half actually curious.

“I uh…had to figure it out once when ours went out…”

Wayne could hear the rest of that statement clear as day, though Steve stayed quiet after that. “It was either that, or go hungry.” Those goddamn Harringtons…

“Sure thing son, let's let it cool down and we can take a look at it.”

By time dinner is over, Eddie’s disappeared, back to his room to do god knows what while he and Steve pull the oven away from the wall.

The longer they work, the quieter Steve becomes. Knowing what he knows now, it was the nerves about what he wanted to ask, but to the Wayne in the moment, it was just nice to get some help around the house without also hearing loud complaining.

Steve tells Wayne what he’d done before to fix his, and Wayne gives him a couple other tips with other potential problems, and soon, the oven is once again able to heat evenly.

“Looks good, kid,” Wayne says, clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder once they’ve got the thing pushed back where it goes.

He turns to put away his tool box, leaving the young man to do whatever it is he normally does with his nephew (gross), when Steve’s voice stops him.

“Wayne?”

“Hm?” 

Steve falls quiet again, so Wayne turns, taking in Steve’s uncharacteristically anxious demeanor and now pale complexion.

“I–” Steve looks him in the eye, but only briefly. His gaze drops to the dirt on his hands, which he brushes off. “Nothing, just–thanks.” he finishes with a small smile, heading down the hall immediately after.

Wayne shrugs, going back to his toolbox. Odd. But whatever; glad to be of help with…whatever it was he helped with.

—

The next time, it was the front porch.

Luckily not ‘cause of anyone fallin’ through or anything, just about high time he got those front few planks replaced before someone does.

He says as much to his boys at dinner a few weeks after he and Steve fixed the oven, and Eddie volunteers himself for moral support.

“You just wanna see me shirtless and sweaty.” Steve accuses.

“Correct. Moral Support.” Ed sweeps his hand out and leans back in his chair.

“Do I hafta be shirtless too?”

Both boys loudly protest in answer, fake gags and all.

He and Steve get to work tearing out the old rotted boards a couple days later, and as expected, Eddie makes himself scarce within an hour. Something about “You guys workin’ this hard is making me thirsty. I’m gonna go grab milkshakes.”

“Moral Support my ass...” Wayne mumbles, shaking his head fondly.

Again, not long after Eddie’s gone, Steve’s easy conversation peters off; and again, Wayne just assumes he’s not quite used to being around him alone, or that he just prefers comfortable silence over chatter (something Wayne himself can appreciate).

He does come back in, however, after a long lull. “Wayne, I wanted to ask…”

Wayne doesn’t find out what Steve wanted though, as Eddie’s van rattles up the road at that moment, the promise of a cool treat too good to pass up for chattin’ with his boyfriend’s Uncle.

Though, as he watches Steve help Eddie out of the van, grabbing the milkshakes (and a quick kiss) from his boy, Wayne thinks he already knows what it is Steve was gonna ask.

And what his answer would be.

—

The third and final time was definitely the time.

This time, there was no pretense. Wayne and Steve weren’t already working on something together, no current excuse to talk without Eddie nearby. It was a Thursday evening and Wayne was alone at home about to head in for a shift.

Opening the door to a knock was weird though. Steve basically lived here, so opening the door to his wide-eyed, pale face was a shock.

“Steve? What’re knocking for, boy?”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just–I’m–”

“You ‘right, son? C’mon inside now..” Wayne coaxes the kid inside, and Steve takes his shoes off automatically, lining them up along the messy pile of Eddie’s shoes just inside the door.

“Eddie’s at the Emersons’ y’know.” Wayne says, plopping back into his previously abandoned armchair.

“Y-yeah, I know, I just dropped him and Henderson off there for their game.”

They both fall quiet then. 

Steve rubs the back of his neck nervously, and Wayne waits patiently.

…Okay, maybe not that patiently.

“Now look, Steve, not that I don’t appreciate spendin’ time wit’cha, ‘cause I do, but it seems t’me you came here for a reason.”

Steve’s gaze snaps up, mouth agape. “How’d you–nevermind.” he clears his throat and continues.

“Mr. Munson–”

“Nope, none’a that, not even for this. M’name’s Wayne, son.” He enjoys throwing Steve off sometimes, alright? Sue him.

All the breath in Steve’s lungs seems to escape at once and he smiles slightly, visibly relaxing just a tad. 

Good.

“Wayne, Eddie and I have been dating for over a year now…obviously…you know that..”

“Is that what you two’ve been doin’? I thought you two were just the best of buds.”

This time, Steve actually laughs. “Shut up, I’m nervous, okay?”

“I know y’are, kiddo.”

He takes another settling breath, much calmer now, and continues. “I love him, Wayne. More than anything in my life.

“I know it’s not for real, I know, but I want him, and you, to know that I mean this to be forever. That if I could, I would marry him tomorrow.” Steve chuckles to himself at that, “Probably would’ve months ago, to be honest.

“All this to say—to ask! Ask…” he shuffles nervously again.

‘You got this, Steve, you’re almost there.’ Wayne thinks encouragingly at him.

As if he could hear him, Steve steels himself, looks Wayne in the eye, and (finally) says:

“Wayne, I would like your blessing to propose to Eddie.” He takes another short breath and presses on. “And I don’t want to hear anything about “Why’re you askin’ me, he’s not my kid.” or some crap, either. You’re the most important person in his life, and always will be. It may not be important to you, but it is to me… That you approve, I mean.”

Okay, he knew it was coming. But the added impassioned (and unnecessary) speech that came with it was a surprise. As if Steve was willing to fight Wayne for thinking Wayne wasn’t important to Eddie. 

He stands, hefting himself out of the sunken springs of his chair, and immediately pulls Steve in for a hug.

“Good speech, son.” he says, squeezing the kid tightly for a moment before adding on, “Though I don’t think there was a single question mark in that whole rant o’yours.”

Steve laughs into his shoulder, beaming his wide bright smile when they separate.

“Do I have your blessing or not, old man?” he snarks, pulling a bellowing laugh out of Wayne.

“That’s more like it!” He claps a hand onto Steve’s shoulder. “And of course y’have it, Steve…

“I’d be proud to call you a Munson.”

you can read this one and the whole rest of the collection here!

#wayne pov is one of my fave things lmao #stranger things #st #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #wayne munson #the munsons my beloveds #wedding fic #LexsWeddingChallenge #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #noelle writes

[fishwithtitz]

The Five Times I Hooked Up with Mary Goore (and the One Time I Couldn’t) - Chapter 4

stunning artwork of a scene from chapter 1 by @dominaarts that I've been dying to share!

Summary: A miscommunication between Thomas and Des results in a night of Dahlia and Mary dog sitting together. When a record breaking storm rolls in, Dahlia's faced with the decision on exactly how much vulnerability she wants to reveal. Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI Mary Goore x OFC / 15.4k words Warnings: language, thigh-riding, p in v sex, mentions of recreational drug use, alcohol, storms, thunder, slight angst

A/N: Thank you for your patience and support as I've taken the time to write this. This was a difficult chapter to write as it starts building the foundation for the turning point of the story and I wanted to get it just right. Leave a comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist 🥰 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

ao3 link

Hook-up #4: Thomas’ Room

Codependency was something I tried really, really hard to avoid. I’d long prided myself on my 

feral independent streak and would be damned if anyone, man or woman, made me reliant.

But I had to admit, I really missed Des. 

This was the shitty part of relationships. It seemed that when the people you love found someone that they wanted to devote themselves to, their time seemed to be sucked along with it. I understood where she was coming from. The novelty of a budding relationship is a unique and addictive feeling. I don’t blame her for chasing the high. 

While she tended the fire that she and Thomas were building, she was opting for spurts of lighter fluid rather than bits of soul-sourced kindling. And now her fire was growing and spreading, sometimes out of control, and it seemed like all of her time and resources were devoted to managing it. Which meant that some of her other relationships had to be put on the backburner until the flames could be brought to a dull roar. 

As if a sign from the universe, the stars finally aligned (or perhaps just our schedules), and Des and I were able to spend the afternoon together. It was exactly what I needed: some time with my best friend. 

After grabbing a couple of iced coffees from the boutique coffee shop downtown (at her insistence, of course, because the higher price was reflected in the quality of the roast, or something like that), we walked to one of our favorite thrift stores to pillage through the inventory. I felt a certain warmth creep through my chest as we entered the store. The smell was a bit musty, perfume-like, a permeating oxymoron of both dirt and cleanliness. It reminded me of our friendship: unlikely, brutally opposite at times, but unique and complimentary. 

The shop worker greeted us with a nod and a smile from the front counter and went back to browsing through her magazine as she sat on her high-rise stool, painted fingertips skimming over something about interior design. Des and I beelined to the back racks in the furthest room from the front of the shop. We knew that this was usually where they kept the good stuff. 

Thrifting was an exercise of equal parts skill and patience. It was best to go in with zero expectations of both finding anything or looking for a specific piece. My most successful trips had been ones where I’d happened upon things I didn’t even know I’d wanted (or like, for that matter). In fact, I’d long ago learned not to become discouraged when a trip turned out to be a bust. Busts were to be expected. The goldmines, however, outweighed the insolvencies. 

“It feels like forever since we’ve gotten to do this,” Des said as she stopped in front of a circular rack of short-sleeve knit shirts. She began sliding the hangers across the scraped metal, pausing to glance over each shirt as she did so. 

“It has been,” I replied. It wasn’t said with malice; more so, my tone conveyed a neutral honesty that I knew we’d come to appreciate about each other. Despite this, I could tell I’d struck a cord at the slight fall of her facial features. 

Des took a half-step back and turned to me with a sad smile. “I know I haven’t been around as much. I’m sorry.” 

“I understand.” And I did. She knew I did. But the morose feeling was still etched into her features in soft hatched lines and so I quickly added, “Not everyone can be a hot musician with Heraculan biceps. I’ll take my spot in line.” I gave her a wink, which seemed to soften her expression. 

I turned back to the rack and started thumbing through the medium-sized graphic tees. Quite a few were worn crewnecks of casinos or bars from around the state, though a couple school spirit shirts were peppered in. I nearly shuddered at the smiling beaver mascot that reminded me of puberty. 

Des broke my focus. “What about this one?” She held up a small white t-shirt with an image of Strawberry Shortcake on it. “Your muse!”

“One time I tell you about my obsession with Strawberry Shortcake and the Big Apple City as a child…” I mumbled, rolling my eyes as I continued culling through the rack. Des laughed and set the shirt back. 

“I don’t think your tits would fit in a small, anyway. Plus, it had a stain.” She pushed a couple more shirts to the side before turning her torso to me. “Speaking of cake, I heard you and Mary had a get together last week.”

A week had passed since I’d last seen Mary. I’d received another text a few days after our night of baking telling me that the cake was killer and his mom was impressed, but it’d been radio silence since. In any other situation with any other person, I’d probably feel irritation or some sort of anger; an inward creeping as to why this guy wasn’t at all interested in seeing me after a weirdly uncharacteristic close-knit evening. But this was Mary. He wasn’t known for punctuality or routine. On the contrary, Mary was a bit of an enigma, coming and going as he pleased, with zero rhyme or reason to his decision making. He seemed to do what felt right to him in the moment — whatever that may be. Or at least that’s how things appeared. 

The hanger I was sliding across the rack stilted, the fabric of the shirt still pinched between my fingers. My eyes widened slightly, and I failed to control the blush that crept into my cheeks. I refused to meet her stare, but knowing Des, she was giving me an all-knowing look. 

“You know, when I suggested that you make a cake for his mom’s birthday, I didn’t think that meant that you’d be doing it together,” she teased.

“Neither did I!” I said. Although I’d meant for it to come out nonchalantly, I’d sounded more defensive than intended. I tried to brush it off by swirling the iced coffee in my hand, ice cubes clinking and clashing as I brought the straw to my lips to take a sip.

“I didn’t know you and Mary were that close,” she speculated. 

I choked on the watery coffee that had been midway down my throat and brought a hand up to wipe at my mouth, coughing a little into my palm.

 Before I had a chance to respond, she cut me off, wide-eyed, a smile tugging at her mouth. “Wait, no. Doll, you didn’t!”

I looked over at her with a surprised defensiveness that completely gave away the truth. Shit. Time for damage control. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Des’ smile only widened. “Dahlia, did you sleep with him?”

I didn’t know how to answer. It wasn’t as if I was ashamed to admit it. Mary was attractive. Sure, his reputation was a bit strange and extreme, but to those in the metal scene, it wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary. But there was something that I liked about keeping Mary and I’s friendship hidden. Or were we friends with benefits?  Was it even a friendship? 

“You totally did!” Des said in response to my silent rabbit hole. I sighed and started to aimlessly shuffle through some sweaters on the next rack. Des began to laugh and looked at me coyly.

She walked over to the same rack that I was currently stationed at and rested her hand against the metal bar, leaning into it. “I swore I saw you two making out on the couch a while back at Thomas’, but he told me I was seeing shit,” she added, shaking her head in disbelief. 

I hummed a noise in response, barely audible. My fingertips traced along a loose thread of a knit sweater and I rolled it between them, trying to focus on the scratchy acrylic yarn instead of the beet red burning in my face. 

“That WAS you two! How long has this been going on?” I didn’t think it was possible for her eyes to get any bigger. They reminded me of saucers. Or satellite dishes. Maybe of the middle-aged woman at my work that thrived on office gossip and smelled like cat piss. 

I rolled my eyes and pulled a sweater off the rack to pretend to check the tag. “Nothing is going on,” I said. 80% Polyester, 20% Cotton.  “We’ve just hooked up a few times. That’s it.” 

Des cocked a curious brow. “A few? Wow, add that to my list of shit I didn’t expect.” She brought her half-drank iced coffee to her pink lips and took a slurp of the drink. I couldn’t tell if I was more annoyed at the sound or at her. 

 “So, what’s he like?” She grabbed a cardigan from the small section and pulled it up to inspect it, holding it to her thin frame to gauge the fit. “I bet he’s into some spooky, dark shit, like bloodletting or autoerotic asphyxiation or something. Oh! Or a piss kink!”

The garment I was holding was slammed back into the rack with more force than I’d meant. “Des! What the fuck?” I whispered loudly, trying to make a point that this was not something I wanted to talk about in public. Sure, no one else was in the back of the store, but that was besides the point. 

She held up a hand in defense. “Sorry! He looks like the kind of guy that’d be into that stuff.”

I brought the hand to my face that wasn’t holding the slippery, condensation-covered cup of coffee. With a sigh, I rubbed my left eye. “I am not having this conversation.”

Des brought her hands down and tilted her head with a look of disagreement. “Oh, come on! Why are you always so uptight about talking about this stuff?”

I took a step towards her and lowered my voice just slightly. “Unlike you, I don’t feel the need to advertise my sex life, thank you.”

“I don’t advertise it, I just…reflect on it. It’s what normal girlfriends do — talk about the guys they’re with.” She turned to the next rack that was uncomfortably close to the one we had been rifling through and pulled a pair of corduroys out to give them a look over. “Who else would I talk to about it?”

She had a point. I breathed out a sigh and set my cup on the display atop the circular rack. “I guess you’re right.”

I looked up at her to see her sporting her signature smirk. “I’m always right. Now tell me, what’s he got hiding in those tight jeans?” She waggled her eyebrows for emphasis and I let out a chuckle, shaking my head.

“You are the last person I need to explain the intricacies of the male anatomy to.”

“Come on, Doll. I need details!” She whined, tossing the corduroys back onto the rack. 

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“Good thing cats have nine lives.” She stuck out her tongue at me and I reached over to make a swipe at grabbing it, earning me a chuckle and a shove. 

I laughed too, and if I was honest, I felt a semblance of relief that the weight of my secret had been lifted from my shoulders, even if just minutely. 

She took another annoyingly loud slurp of her iced coffee, the drink now edging the bottom line of the cup. Peering at me from above the lid, she broke contact with the straw. 

“Now, spill.”

🜏🜏🜏

It was early evening on a Friday. I’d managed to get off of work a little earlier than expected — a relief given that I’d worked overtime these past few weeks to try to save up enough money for an unexpected car repair. The extra time turned out to be just what I needed to pack some last minute items in my backpack for the weekend. 

Des had asked — practically begged — for me to “do her a solid” and pet sit for her for a couple days over the weekend. My confusion rang heavy in the air when I realized that one, she didn’t have any pets, and two, neither did Thomas. 

“It’s his parents’ dog. He’s supposed to watch it this weekend, but he was able to book a couple last minute shows out of town that would be really good for the band,” she’d explained. Then, in almost overly characteristic Des-fashion, she gave me the eyes. The fucking Puss in Boots look. 

And those damn Dreamworks eyes had me hesitantly agreeing to watch the pawned pooch at Thomas’ place.  

It didn’t sit well with me. He was supposed to be watching his parents’ dog. But instead, he was having a friend of his girlfriend stay at his place to watch a dog she’d never met. I’d just hoped the dog was nice. 

After walking my bike to the back porch to lean it against the siding hidden from view from the street, I rounded back to the front door and gave it a few cursory knocks. As if on cue, loud barks began to sound — distant at first, but louder as the seconds went on — and I could just make out the scuffle of feet and claws against the hard floor. 

The door swung open and Des was restraining a black blur of tail and tongue and teeth. He wasn’t overly big, per se, but from what I could tell from his overexcited movements, he had to be at least forty or fifty pounds. 

“Hey! Come in—” she strained, holding the excited dog back as it wagged and wiggled in her arms. 

I slipped past the dog and kicked off my shoes on the hinged side of the door as she slammed it shut. “Brutus!” Des grunted as she tried to crouch over him and use her body weight as leverage. 

I straightened up and watched with choked giggles as she tried, and nearly failed, to keep him from charging me. “He’s — umph — he loves people —” said grumbled as the dog, presumably named Brutus, broke from her grasp and hounded over to me with a tail so violently wagging that I was afraid his hips would fly right off. He knocked into me with surprising force for his size and I toppled over to the ground. A slimy, velvety tongue began to attack my face and neck and I shrieked out in laughter as we rolled around on the floor. 

“Brutie! Brutus, off!” Des yelled. I could barely hear her over my screeches and giggles. 

A couple of moments passed and the dog calmed, crawling comically into my lap before curling up and looking at me with a panting smile. I ran my hand along the top of its head, scratching behind his pointed black ears. 

“Sorry, he really, really likes people. Not much of a watchdog,” Des said.

“It’s fine. He’s cute,” I replied, moving to scratch under his chin. “What breed is he?”

Des snorted. “Fuck if I know. Thomas says he’s a mutt. I think he’s a rescue.”

“Those are always the best ones,” I countered, earning a nuzzle into my hand from the furry canine nearly falling out of my lap. 

After a while of chit chat and petting the mammoth-sized wannabe cat splayed in my lap, I peeled my backpack off and set it against the wall and stood up  to follow Des into the kitchen. She explained Brutus’ feeding schedule (“He will try to convince you that he’s starving to death. Do not fall for it.”) and his typical routine, then showed me where Thomas’ parents had left the vet info in case of emergencies. It seemed pretty straightforward (easier than I’d expected, honestly), and I felt grateful that Thomas’ backyard was fenced off. A lost dog was the last thing I needed in life right now. 

Just as Des was setting the written feeding instructions back down on the counter, the door leading to the garage opened from down the hallway, and a pair of heavy footsteps came thunking toward us. 

Thomas came into view. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the locks a little as he glanced around the kitchen and dining area, turning a bit in his spot as if running through an imaginary list in his brain. By now, I’d seen Thomas in a variety of moods: ecstatic, embarrassed, exhausted, angry, piss drunk, and of course, the moments where he was absolutely enamored with Des, but I’d never seen him look so stressed before. His eyes looked tired yet his pupils were wide, countering the lines that were settling in around the corners of his eyelids. I’m not sure that he even noticed his shirt was inside out. 

“We found the pedalboard at the guys’ apartment. Some asshole put it on top of the fridge,” he sighed and put his hands on his hips as he looked up at the ceiling as if he were trying to visualize what he needed to do next. After a beat, he looked back down and his eyes met Des’ quizzical look. 

“Don’t ask. I don’t even fucking know.” He seemed to finally register that it wasn’t just his girlfriend in front of him and his demeanor changed a little. He straightened, almost toughened, and gave me a confused quirk of the eyebrows. “…Dahlia, what are you doing here?”

I mirrored his look. “Uh, Des said you needed me to house sit?”

Thomas looked between myself and Des, his face moving from a look of confusion to a look of what could be argued as annoyance. “Really?” he asked, taking another step closer to Des. “I thought I mentioned I’d figured all that out, babe.”

Desiree looked up at him with an innocent smile and rolled her lips between her teeth. “Whoops. Must have slipped my mind.”

He sized her reaction, clearly unconvinced. “Okay. Sure.” I was certain he was going to add something, but his potential dialogue with Des was cut off when the garage door opened again and the telltale sound of clunking boots against hard flooring cut through the air. I felt my heart simultaneously drop and expand in my chest. I had come to know that sound. 

“Everything is tied and tarped. I feel like fucking Patrick Bateman sans nailgun and Huey Lewis and the News.”

I had really come to know that voice. 

Mary rounded Thomas and Des and joined the impromptu party in the dining area. I shoved my hands into my pockets and rocked back and forth on my feet as I felt his stare bore into me from feet away. It was clear there had been a mix up, and although I couldn’t be certain that Des had something to do with it, I had a pretty good idea of what had happened. 

“What’s going on?” Mary asked as he looked around the uneven circle of his friends. Brutus trotted over and began to sniff at his pant legs and Mary reached down to scratch the hound’s forehead. Mary’s long hair hung around him in strands, the ends clumped together in damp sections as it fell from around his shoulders and back. 

“Why is your hair wet?” Des asked him. I was sure it was her way of breaking the awkwardness. 

Mary looked at her with an air of obviousness. “Shower,” he replied. 

“Oh…weird,” she said, and I had to stifle a giggle by turning it into a cough. 

Thomas rolled his eyes. “He’s full of shit. It’s raining outside and he’s been helping me load and tarp equipment in the truck.” Thomas reached out and clasped a hand to Mary’s shoulder, which to be fair, was dotted with what appeared to be wet raindrop marks. “We all know you hate bathing,” he added. 

Mary scoffed and shoved Thomas. “Fuck you guys.”

The air turned uncomfortable again, bordering sour, and it was Thomas who broke the silence. 

“Well, it looks like there’s been a miscommunication on who’s looking after this asshole,” Thomas started, looking directly at Des as he spoke although it was clear he was referring to the dog. She continued flashing her innocent smile, eyes still large as if concurrently seeking forgiveness and feigning ignorance. 

I felt compelled to speak up. I hated awkward silences, and I especially hated being the butt of one. “It’s not a big deal. I can head out if Mary’s got this,” I said with a shrug. 

“—It’s pouring out there!” Des quickly countered, looking between Thomas and I. 

Her defensive quip caused me to crinkle my eyebrows in response. “Bullshit, I was just outside and it was fine.”

I looked over at the sliding glass door to my left and sure as shit, the glass was coated in fine droplets sliding down to puddle at the deck below. The sky hadn’t been much more than overcast on my ride over, but it now swirled with tones of ash and charcoal. A storm was approaching. 

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “Shit, well…I rode my bike over here.”

I could tell that the cogs were turning in Des’ mind as she tried to decide if she’d respond with comfort and support of her best friend or her boyfriend: the ever present dilemma. I felt a pang of guilt plague my stomach. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out. You guys go,” I offered with a small smile. Forced, of course, because now I was stranded at someone else’s house with someone else’s dog and of course a particular…someone else. 

“You sure?” she asked. I could see Thomas eyeing me from behind her, his own expression mirroring her words. It was clear this was just as much of a surprise to him as it was to Mary and I. 

My gut told me to stay focused on the couple ahead of me, but my impulsiveness won over, and I glanced at Mary. He was watching with a look of amusement, arms crossed over his chest as his head batted to and fro between speakers. I swallowed lightly.

“Yeah, go. Go! It’s fine.” The voice was mine, but the words were clearly not my own.

A few uncomfortable and quick words were shared, and both Des and Thomas grabbed their overnight bags and popped them into the cab of the truck before driving off down the quiet residential street towards the gig a few towns over. And I was stuck in the ranch-style home with Mary Goore, an overexcited rescue dog, and an approaching storm. 

🜏🜏🜏

After piling into the car and sloshing down the road en route to the gig a few cities over, Des and Thomas were mid conversation about the situation that had happened just moments before. 

“Don’t tell me you’re doing what I think you’re doing.” Thomas started, fingertips tapping against the wheel as they sped down the interstate. 

Des rolled her eyes. “They’ve been fucking!” Her voice was defensive. She quickly added, “Did you know that?”

Thomas kept his eyes on the road and drummed his fingers along to the song playing in the background. “No, and I don’t—” he sighed, removing one hand from the wheel to grasp at the back of his neck, “Jesus Christ, Desiree, you can’t play matchmaker on this one.”

Des crossed her arms over her chest. “Why not? Have you seen the way they look at each other?”

Thomas briefly turned his head and gave her a serious look, sternness that nearly reminded her of her father. “Don’t stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong,” he said. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Des shot him a look that dripped in sass. Any other time it would have spurred a different set of emotions in him, but not this time. He held his ground. 

“Just — fuck, baby, I’ve known Mary for a long time and he’s not really one to settle.”

Des scoffed. “You think getting with Dahlia would be settling?”

“No, not like that.” Thomas sighed again in frustration. “He’s not big into commitment. Doesn’t like to be tied down. Mary’s…not a relationship kind of guy.”

It was quiet for a few seconds as Des pondered his response. “Well, I’m not saying they need to get married or anything,” she reasoned, “I’m just giving them a little push, is all. A weekend together, alone, no one to barge in and no expectations. It’s the perfect recipe for them to realize what they have going on.”

Another silence filled the cab of the truck. The sound of steady rain pelted against the windshield, only for the squeaky wipers to flick it off rhythmically, creating its own song and dance that counteracted the punk tune on the stereo system.  

After a moment, Thomas relented. “Don’t come crawling to me with those big, sad eyes when this ploy of yours blows up in your face.”

“What big eyes?!” Des craned her neck over and stared him down, though it was clear she couldn’t hide the smile bursting through her tough facade. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, babe.”

Des winked in his direction and the tension seemed to melt away. She reached over to grasp at his hand — the one that had fallen to his lap after drumming on the steering wheel —  and laced their fingers together. 

He let out a long breath and relaxed into the touch before grumbling, “They better not fuck on my bed.”

🜏🜏🜏

When Des and Thomas left, it was like they sucked what little comfort there had been straight out of the room. Sure, the house was occupied by two people and a dog (which some would even consider to be too crowded; three’s company and four’s a party and all that), but there was a timidness that I felt that seemed to have grown since my other outings with Mary. Maybe it was the unexpectedness of it all. Or perhaps it was my own lack of control in the situation. Regardless, I’d planned on staying a couple of days anyway — what was so bad about waiting out the storm to ride home?

I stood there, hands in my pockets as I continued to rock on my heels, before deciding to break the tension. “I should probably pick up my stuff,” I motioned to the general area my backpack was in and then quickly turned to retrieve my things. 

Backpack in hand, I headed to the bathroom to unpack. I’d packed light (because in all honesty, who did I have to impress), but I was searching for any and all excuses to put some distance between myself and the awkward situation I’d been thrust into. I pulled a toothbrush and toothpaste out of a plastic bag I’d jammed into the front pocket of my rucksack, mirroring the action with my face wash, moisturizer, and small bag of makeup essentials. I futzed for too long with the placement of the items, moving them from sinkside to against the wall and back again, before I gave up and sat back against the wall opposite the vanity. 

A few minutes went by and I felt a low growl erupt in my stomach. It was nearly six o’clock and I’d had yet to eat anything. I pulled out my phone, deciding to order takeout, and scrolled through the suggested nearby restaurants before settling on a well-rated Chinese place down the street. 

I was ready to press send on my order, but I remembered the elephant in the room and groaned, heaving myself up and making my way out to the main area of the home. Mary was nowhere to be seen. I turned around and upon noticing the garage door was ajar, I walked the short distance down the hallway and slipped into the adjoining garage. 

Mary was sitting in a camper chair in the empty space, lit cigarette between his fingers, with Brutus at his side. He was tossing a rope toy to the dog somewhat lazily, taking drags of the lit stick every so often. The garage was partially opened, just enough to let in the cool, damp air of the storm, and raindrops pittered in at the edge of the threshold. 

As soon as I shut the door to the house, his eyes shot up to meet my own and he nodded in greeting before tossing the toy to the opposite end of the garage for Brutus. 

“I’m ordering Chinese — you want anything?” I eventually spoke, body still against the steps connecting the sunken garage to the house. 

Mary let out an exhale of smoke and tapped the cigarette into a coffee can on the ground. “Whatever’s fine. I’m easy to please.” His telltale smirk painted his lips and I could see the mischief swirling behind his eyes. “But you already know that,” he added. 

I felt my eyes nearly roll out of my head and hopped down off the step, rounding him to sit in another nearby chair. As uncomfortable as his digs were supposed to be, they had the opposite effect. I didn’t do “awkward” with Mary that well. Sexual tension was another story. 

I added a few more items to the order and typed in my card information from memory before submitting the order, quickly clicking my phone off and stashing it in my pocket. My focus was broken when Mary interrupted the silence. 

“How’d you get roped into this?” he asked, head turning to glance at me. 

I sighed and rubbed the side of my face, showing my slight annoyance. “Desiree.”

Mary laughed, a warm chuckle that I’d grown to appreciate, and he ashed the cigarette into the can below him. “You’d think they’d learn to communicate with how they fucking act around each other.”

I stretched out my legs, sinking back into the camper chair. “Oh, I’m sure it was communicated…” I remarked.

Mary looked at me quizzically, head turned towards me again to flash those phthalocyanine eyes that somehow looked brighter in the odd lighting of the garage. I brushed off his look, not wanting to get into the specifics of the conversation I had with Desiree or the fact that she knew about our history. “The dog seems to like you.”

“Brutus and I go way back,” he said. 

“Really?” I said with raised brows.

Mary laughed out again in response, that ever-present balmy giggle that pulled at the corners of his lips sending a wave of warmth through my body. “No, I’m just fucking with you. I’m good with animals,” he paused and his lips curled into a grin, ”when I’m not microwaving them, of course.���

My mind raced back to our first encounter together. The streetlights on the walk towards the abandoned warehouse. Paper bags with shaved ice and forties. Shitty gas station snacks. And our conversation about reputation. Namely, his reputation. “Oh, of course.” My tone was one of mock seriousness, and I couldn’t help but giggle at the memory.

I watched as he took another drag from the dwindling cigarette and then turned to look out at the half-closed garage door. The raindrops pelting against the shingled roof and cracked concrete driveway were the only audio that suffused the space, with the occasional exhale of pillowy smoke from the musician next to me. 

It was Mary that broke the silence again. He always seemed to be the one to do that. “Thanks again,” he started, hand waving around aimlessly as he spoke, “y’know, for the cake and shit.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m glad your mom liked it.” I spoke earnestly and my expression was one of sincerity. It felt foreign.

“She fucking loved it. She was surprised I had anything to do with making it,” he laughed and tapped his cigarette into the can. 

“Oh come on, you can’t be that bad of a cook,” I replied.

He raised an eyebrow at me as he turned to face me. “I’ve burned water.”

My jaw dropped just enough that I was sure it looked like I’d catch flies. “I…didn’t think that was possible.”

He shrugged and turned back to face forward, the cigarette now a stubby, crinkled nub between his middle and pointer fingers. “You should know by now that I’m full of impossible surprises.”

I leaned forward, turning my torso to point towards him while I pulled my legs criss-cross into the camper chair. “How on earth do you woo a woman if you can’t even cook fucking Kraft Mac n’ Cheese?”

“Women aren’t typically after my cooking skills. Or lack thereof,” he flicked the remaining ash of the cigarette down and it missed the can. He didn’t notice. “I’ve got other talents,” he paused, “Wooing isn’t really my style.”

I let his admission ring in the dampened air. It wasn’t surprising. From what I’d heard, he’d never had trouble landing women — particularly after gigs. “The life of a musician…” I trailed off. 

Another silence built as the rain colored the absence of our conversation. I could hear Brutus’ slight snores as he lay curled at Mary’s feet, seemingly tired from their earlier game of fetch. A breeze broke through the cracked garage door and swirled around us, bringing a chill into the otherwise comfortable space. I pulled my hoodie a little closer, feeling the cool air dance across my cheeks and the skin peeking through the jacket. 

“I think I’m gonna head in. I’ll let you know when the food is here.”

Mary didn’t say anything in response — merely nodding and taking out another cigarette from the worn Marlboro carton — and I made my way back inside with a heavier mind than I’d come out with. 

🜏🜏🜏

I’d puttered around the house for what had seemed like ages, but in reality was likely only a handful of minutes. As familiar as I was with some of the rooms at Thomas’, I had to admit that there were areas I’d never been to,  namely his room or the basement. As rude as it might have been, I’d given myself a self-directed tour of the place, noting the half-completed projects he seemed to be working on to fix up the house. I wasn’t sure if that was a sign of Des domesticating him or if the house really was a secret pride-and-joy. 

Eventually, I found myself in the den, sinking into the worn plaid couch that already held too many memories. I pushed them down and reached for the remote to the TV, opting just to hold it as my thoughts zoomed. I could probably put on a movie to kill some time until dinner arrived. It wouldn’t be long and it would serve as a nice distraction. 

I got up and thumbed through the impressive number of DVDs stacked next to the TV. Most of them were action or horror (no surprise there), and I settled on a film I’d never seen before: The Amityville Horror. I told myself that the fact that a young Ryan Reynolds was on the cover had absolutely nothing to do with the choice. 

After some cajoling, I figured out how Thomas’ TV and DVD player were set up and popped in the disc, pressing play on the machine before sinking back into the couch. The blue screen transformed to darkness as the credits played and I waited to be taken to the home screen. 

Mere seconds into the film, I heard a knock at the door and I paused the movie to jog up and out of the sunken den to the front door. I was met with an absolutely drenched delivery driver holding out a large brown bag in one hand and a soaked receipt and pen in the other. I shot him a look of apology and took the receipt, signing and adding on a much more generous tip than I’d originally intended, before trading him for the food. His eyes lit up when he saw the receipt and he dashed back to his clunker parked out front. 

I ended up parking the heavy bag of Chinese on the kitchen table. My thoughts were broken when I heard Mary coming in from the garage, heavy footsteps once again thunking down the hallway.  A pitter of claws trotted behind him. 

“Food’s here,” I said, already opening the bag to take out the various containers. 

We grabbed our respective containers and utensils and made our way to the den, me sitting on the couch while Mary sat on the floor, his back against the edge of the couch with his legs spread out wide. I opened up my container of sweet and sour pork and doused it in sweet and sour sauce, mixing it up with the cheap excuse for chopsticks that they provided before settling into the back corner of the couch and pressing play. 

“You’re watching this trash?” Mary said, words muffled by a mouthful of Beijing beef. 

I rolled my eyes, though he couldn’t see it from his position on the floor. “I’ve never seen it.”

“It’s a shit remake.”

I grabbed a piece of pork between my chopsticks and lathered it in sauce before popping it into my mouth. “Well,” I said while chewing, “no one’s making you watch it.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said with a hint of facetiousness. 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” he all but grumbled, reaching in the container to grab a piece of beef with his fingers.“You knew what I meant.”

I shuddered as I watched him pop the piece of meat into his mouth with his fingers. “Are you…eating that with your bare hands?” I asked with a surprised chuckle. 

He shrugged his shoulders again. “Chopsticks are frustrating. Why use those when I have built in chopsticks right here?” He pinched his fingers in the air, just high enough that I could see them from my spot on the sofa. 

I paused, reaching into the takeout container to fish around for some sort of accompanying vegetable. “I…don’t know how I feel about that, to be honest.”

“You didn’t seem to mind my fingers the last time you were on that couch,” he retorted, tone dripping with cheekiness that I knew was accompanied by a smirk I couldn’t see from my vantage point. 

I sighed, trying to pay no mind to his constant coquettishness. “Well, they weren’t covered in Chinese food when that happened.”

“They could have been.”

I reached over and grabbed one of Thomas’ throw pillows from across the sofa and tossed it down directly at his head. Mary yowled and grabbed at the back of his head. 

“Hey, ow- fuck, you almost made me spill!”

I waved my chopstick dismissively. “Shh, I’m missing what’s happening.”

“Not missing much…” he grumbled, grabbing another piece of beef with his fingers. I looked down and dug into my food again, picking at some snow peas, and took a bite to keep me from my desire to respond with something sarcastic. 

I watched the screen as the beginning of the movie continued to unfold with the dreary undertone of music and darkened filter plastered over shots of the house and rainfall outside. 

I knew that in fiction, rain was often used to signal something darker, uncontrollable, and innately scary. While a gentle storm could symbolize rebirth or the washing away of something unclean to show a new beginning, a thunderstorm was different. Thunderstorms were brash, explosive, and undeniably cacophonous — a symbol of power, wrath, danger, and darkness. As the scene cut to a shot of the rainy setting, I couldn’t help but liken it to the rain pelting the windowpanes of the window behind the couch. They were both intense storms and I wondered what symbolism life could be trying to show me, if any at all. 

We watched mostly in silence, with the occasional jolt from me during a poorly timed jumpscare or a shake of the head and grumble from Mary (which after the third shove of my foot into his shoulder, he got the message that he was being obnoxious). 

Unbeknownst to me, the movie had a quick sex scene, which with anyone else would have been a non-issue watching. But with Mary, I felt oddly different. I found myself wondering what he was thinking as we watched the main characters move intimately against one another. Because, if my memory served me right, the last movie we watched together had something similar, and he had reacted in very specific—

 My thoughts were interrupted by yet another jumpscare and I squeaked in surprise, nearly dropping my empty takeout container. Mary chuckled and turned around with a smug smile.

 “Everything okay back there?” he asked. 

“Just fine. ‘Surprised me…” I grumbled, pretending to dig around in the empty container for more food. I was sure he could see right through me. I was easy to spook.

Eventually, I set my empty container on the side table and reclined back into the couch again. It felt weirdly quiet, and I noticed that Mary had gotten up at some point and left. 

“Seems he found something better to do with his time,” I thought. Not that it mattered, anyway. I hated the kind of people that talked constantly during movies, and I could tell Mary was doing his best not to criticize nearly every piece of dialogue and every scene. 

“Here.” The voice snapped me from my thoughts and my eyes refocused to the space in front of me, noticing an uncapped beer just in my line of sight. I took it with a thank you, noticing Mary had one of his own as he decided to sit opposite to me on the edge of the couch instead of on the floor. I tried not to think anything of the change and cast my eyes towards the movie. 

“Did….did she just put a whole ass bong into her purse?” I asked after watching the babysitter in the film try to hide her bong after smoking in the bathroom. I took a swig of the beer Mary gifted me and looked over at him. 

He laughed. “I’m telling you — this movie is idiotic at best.”

“I hate that I’m invested enough that I want to see how it ends,” I replied after a minute, adjusting my position on the couch to spread out a leg, my foot barely missing the side of Mary’s thigh. 

“I’m happy to tell you how it ends,” Mary countered, taking a pull from his own bottle.

I shook my head in reply. “Might as well finish it. In your words, we’ve ‘got nothing better to do,’” I grinned at him with a chuckle and set my eyes back on the screen. 

After the movie finished, we both stretched out our limbs, and I stood to collect the empty containers. 

“That’s 90 minutes of my life I’ll never get back,” Mary grunted with a sigh. 

I rolled my eyes. With how things were going, I’d be surprised if they didn’t roll straight out of my head and onto the shitty shag carpet on the floor. “Oh come on,” I began, “It wasn’t THAT bad…”

“Well, it sure as shit wasn’t good,” he chuckled sarcastically.

I let out a defeated breath. “Okay, I’ll admit that it wasn’t the best movie I’ve seen.”

“Clear from it,” he postured, lounging back a little as he took a swig from his beer “The original does a much better job of staying true to the book and creating that building suspense th—”

His words were cut off by another loud crack of lightning. This one sounded close, and by the looks of the fulmination that painted the windows, it was. 

I let out a shriek when the lightning and its ancillary crash cracked through the den and beyond. My hand flew to my mouth in surprise and I soon rubbed it over my eyes bashfully. 

“Shit, I didn’t know you could make that noise,” Mary chuckled, eyebrows raised in an expression of slight surprise. I looked over and flashed him the middle finger, a scowl on my face, which only increased his laughter. 

“How about we put on another movie,” he suggested, then added quickly “—but I pick.” I thought about it, pondering the many choices of movies that Mary could choose on a night like tonight, and shook my head. 

“Maybe music is a better idea?” I replied. I walked to the edge of the den and started up the few stairs that connected it to the hallway. “I’ll toss these while you get it set up,” I called over my shoulder. 

When I returned, Mary was finished messing with the stereo system and Sonic Youth’s Daydream Nation was playing softly through the speakers. I took a seat on the floor, copying Mary’s earlier posture with my back against the front of the plush furniture, and spread my legs out and crossed them at the ankles. 

“Didn’t take you as a Sonic Youth fan,” I said as I settled into the space. 

Mary smiled and turned his head towards me. “I told you I’m full of interesting surprises.”

I suppressed a giggle. “I was thinking of other types of surprises when you said that.”

“What kinds of things were you thinking of?” he asked, brow quirked.

I felt my cheeks flush at the coy look on his face and looked away, trying to figure out a way to change the conversation. Mary just laughed. 

“Wow, doll face, I didn’t expect to take up that much real estate in your mind. I’m flattered.” He put a hand to his chest and stared over me with a broad smile. 

“Stop it.”

He cast me a look of confusion. “Stop what?”

“That thing you do!” I began. My voice raised a little in volume and pitch. “The thing where you act all smug and ooze sex appeal!”

This seemed to intrigue him and he turned to face me from his spot in front of the entertainment system. I knew that if his shirt was off, I’d be able to see the flexion of the muscles in his abdomen. I mentally kicked myself for even thinking that. 

“Sex appeal? I didn’t know you were so pious.”

I felt myself bristle and sat up a little straighter. “What? No, it’s not about piety.” I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. “You just don’t have to make everything an innuendo!”

At this, the crusty metalhead in front of me had the audacity to laugh. “Wow,” he chuckled, “way to act like a total prude.” 

“I am not!” My eyes shot daggers at him and I’d hope they’d materialize and hit him straight in his smirking face. 

“I’m surprised you made it through that sex scene…” he looked up at me from under a raised brow.

I huffed. “You of all people should know that sex doesn’t bother m—” I cut myself off as I felt fire heat my cheeks. 

“You were saying?” he snickered. 

“Oh, fuck off Goore.”

“Sure thing. Wanna watch?”

“I’ll leave that to Brutus.”

As soon as his name was said, Brutus’ ears perked up and he let out a whine. I realized it had probably been hours since he’d been outside.

“We should probably let the dog out,” I said. As soon as he heard the word ‘out,’ Brutus sprung up and began trotting to the sliding glass door in the kitchen. I got up with a slight groan, muscles stiff from sitting on the floor, and Mary followed. 

“I can take the dog out by myself, y’know,”

“Yeah, but the view is so much better if I come with.”

I felt frustration pool in my chest at this and he seemed to sense it as well, adding, “Chill out, I was just  grabbing a couple more beers.”

After coaxing Brutus outside with some choice words said in the nicest voice I could muster (and maybe a push on the bum), I waited at the sliding glass door for him to return from doing his business. A towel was thrown by slider and I grabbed it to wipe down the dog on his re-entry. 

I watched through the window as the storm really began to rage. Fat water droplets ricocheted off the glass pane like rubber bullets and thunder rumbled a low death rattle. Mary came up behind me and put the two bottles on the kitchen table. He fished around in his pockets for his bottle opener on his key chain. 

A loud, booming sound followed by a high pitched crack and a monstrous thud rattled the foundation of the house. I let out an embarrassingly loud scream and jumped back from the sliding door. My body collided with Mary’s more solid one behind me, and immediately his hands found my upper arms to steady the both of us. I leaned back into him, not caring enough about self-restraint as my head tipped back against his shoulder. 

My chest heaved as my adrenaline dissipated, and I could feel Mary’s hands rubbing up and down the lengths of my arms. I swallowed thickly, then clenched my eyes tight. I felt his breath arm against my ear as he leaned in. 

“You good, Doll?”

His voice was smooth, oddly soothing, and the reverberations that pulsed through my ear and into my chest were much different than the shaking of the foundation from the subsonic boom moments prior. 

I nodded and looked out the window. A mature tree limb, one measuring at least 15 feet long, had fallen to the ground in the backyard from the force of the thunderstorm. My immediate thought went to Brutus and I feared for the worst, but as if on cue, his body came running towards the door like a bullet. His little black body began pawing at the door and yet, I felt frozen in my spot to Mary. His body stayed pressed against the back of mine, hands still rubbing little circles against my triceps. Neither of us moved to open the door. 

Brutus’ bark seemed to jolt us both from the haze. I slid the door open and immediately wrapped the medium-sized dog in the towel to dry him off. The little black mutt followed me as I walked back into the wood-paneled den and I sunk down on the couch next to Mary with a sigh. 

Mary handed me another beer and I graciously accepted. “You know,” he started after taking a sip of his own, “I’m not used to women screaming around me unless my name is involved somehow.”

“Is it usually preceded by ‘fuck off’ or ‘get the fuck away from me’?”

“I was thinking it comes after ‘harder’ or ‘fuck me,’ actually,” he said, pausing a beat before casting a look of cautious puzzlement. “Who pissed in your Cheerios?”

I chewed on my cheek as I picked at the label of the beer bottle. “I hate storms,” I admitted with a sigh.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

The squall of the storm caused the windows behind the weathered old sofa to vellicate. Stills from the movie of torrential downpour around the boathouse flashed into thought. I recalled the swirling blackened sky from the sliding glass door from moments before and found myself comparing the dread from the film to my stomach sinking the moment the tree limb fell heavy against the hard ground. What if it had fallen on the house, or the dog? What if it had been a consequence of a lightning strike and started a fire?

I shook myself from spiraling. “I’m not afraid of a lot of things,” I pointed out, “but storms...they freak me out. They have ever since I was little. Loud noises and all.”

Mary chuckled at this. “You listen to thrash metal,” he countered. 

“That’s different!” I ran my hand through my hair, gripping at the back of my scalp in frustration. “Storms are destructive. One minute it’s a normal day and the next - bam - people lose their homes, their jobs, their communities…decades and centuries of history even. It’s chaotic and terrible and…unpredictable. It’s fucking armageddon.”

Mary had turned to face me from his spot on the couch, one leg semi-crossed over the other. “Big bad metal chick like you afraid of some thunder and lightning? Color me surprised, dollface.”

The asshole had the audacity to smirk at me. So, I reached out and smacked him in the shoulder. 

“Ow! I was being serious!” His tone was playful as rubbed at the spot on his shoulder. “You’re not the kind of person to let a lot of emotion show.”

I felt myself bristle. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “I dunno…you just don’t seem afraid of anything. Kinda just ‘go with the flow’. It’s weird to see ya all panicked and shit.”

I scoffed and clicked my tongue. “You obviously don’t know me very well.”

“Oh, I know you inside and out, dollface,” he grinned. 

My cheeks blushed garnet. “Only some of me,” I grumbled.

“Really? What else you got hiding?” he chided, sitting up a little straighter, a little closer. “Got any secret pockets in those pants?”

Now, it felt like my whole face was on fire. I remembered the cargo pants he made fun of me for on our first excursion, and the tongue-in-cheek wording was absolutely purposeful. I rolled my eyes. 

Any other time I would have had a quick quip or nonverbal response lined up to banter with him, but another crackle of thunder roared through the sky, and instead, my body physically flung itself up an inch off the cushions in a reactive jolt. My hands gripped onto whatever was near me — which in this case, was the right arm of the couch and coincidentally, the right arm of Mary. 

The sound of the thunder was replaced with the onslaught of water against the windows behind the sofa and I let out a breath I didn’t remember inhaling. I looked down at my hand gripping onto Mary’s forearm, fingers digging into the demon ink staring up at me across otherwise pale flesh, and I quickly retreated. 

I cleared my throat. “S-sorry,” I choked, “Reflex.”

Mary didn’t seem phased at all. He turned towards me, his upper torso craning to meet mine perpendicularly, and a hand came to my knee. “What helps?” he asked plainly.

“I…what?” 

“What helps?” he repeated, his tone still matter-of-fact. 

“Oh. Um…” I swallowed and looked down at his hand resting on my left knee, right over the fabric of my pants. I wracked my brain in a feeble attempt to think of something that had aided my fear in the past.

But I couldn’t think. I couldn’t even breathe properly as the heat from his hand sunk through to my covered skin. I imagined that hand six inches higher, resting on my thigh as he spread them apart on the rooftop all those weeks ago—

“Distraction!” I blurted out. I hardly even recognize my voice as I did so. I finally looked over to meet the stare I’d felt carving into my irrationally fearful form and saw those fucking eyes, green and honey and framed with brows that were pursed in a way that conveyed allure. I finished letting out my caged breath. “Something to keep my mind off things and give me another sense to focus on. My parents used to, uh, read to me. Make up stories. When I was old enough, I’d hum songs or picture scenes from movies…”

Embarrassment flooded my bones. I felt childish, weakened, exposed like a raw nerve or a root scabbing from crisp air. We didn’t talk much about our pasts and he wasn’t somewhat I typically indulged with this kind of vulnerability. But as I searched his eyes for a crinkle of amusement or a flash of judgment, I found none. Instead, I found focused pupils and a heady stare. 

He broke the pregnant pause. “Maybe I could distract you with something different.”

I rolled my lips in and stilted the air in my lungs. His hand weighed heavily on my leg. 

“We’ve tried music. And movies,” he began, briefly casting his glance towards the middle of the living room where the TV sat against the wall and we’d sat and listened to Sonic Youth. “We drank shitty beer and ate shitty Chinese—”

“—I liked the Chinese—” I interrupted in a murmur, still watching as he soaked in the visual of my legs pressed together, his hand firm and steady. 

“—so in my eyes, we’ve used sight, hearing, taste, and by association, scent. Which means, we’re missing one…”

Touch, I thought to myself. A shiver whispered down my spine. While his words trailed off, he mimicked the action with his hand. The firm hand that once sat solid on my knee began to travel up the expanse of my left leg. His fingertips ghosted my inner thigh with just enough pressure to make a point. 

I gathered up the courage to look up at him again and this time, the verdant hue of his eyes was overtaken by wide pupils that bore into me like he was clawing his way to comfort. 

I’m not exactly sure what happened next. The haze in my brain matched the low visibility from the storm outside. But before I knew it, I could feel the warmth of his proximity, the grip of his hand tightening on my leg as his other one gripped the nape of my neck, tugging and pulling me into him like a life preserver. 

His kiss was exactly as I had remembered. Soft yet slightly chapped, starting as a fervent pressing of lips on lips that moved into tilted heads and the drag of a tongue against my own parted mouth. I reveled in the feeling and gripped onto his shirt with both hands, fisting it like he’d float away if I let go.

Had I been more cognizant, I’d have laughed at the fact that his action was much more than touch. It was scent (cheap cologne and leather and musk) and it was taste (cheap beer and filmy cigarette residue that I was surprised I could crave) and sight (technicolor behind my eyelids that erupted against dark) and it was sound (of the smacking of lips on lips and the occasional clang of teeth, the rustle of fabric and the springs of the couch as we shifted to accommodate one another). 

And down we fell, my twisted torso mirroring his own as I lay plush against the flat seat of the couch. Mary moved to encapsulate my form with his own, knees brushing the worn plaid upholstery as I parted my legs to gift him space. My hands found the tops of his shoulders and as I gripped, his own hand moved from its entrapment on the nape of my neck to cup my jaw, thumb bruising against bone. I fought the urge to wrap my legs around his body and hold him in like he was to me. Touch. I didn’t care.

But before I could, he slotted one of his legs between my own, the other digging between my left thigh and the seam of the couch. I let out a groan as he pressed the meat of his thigh against my center and he smiled against my lips, nipping at the bottom one. 

Touch. I craved that movement as heat built deep within my abdomen and pooled down past my navel. Shamelessly, I rocked my hips against his leg to chase the feeling of pressure, of grazed fabric on fabric. Testing the proverbial waters. 

Again, a smirk against my lips. His free hand gripped squarely onto my hip. But instead of a teasing nip or squeeze, he pulled away just barely, breath ghosting against my face. 

“That feel good, Doll?” 

I couldn’t begin to think of how to respond. Instead, I canted my hips up again, slower this time, enjoying the friction of denim against my own clothed core. I suppose that was enough of an answer, because he held his leg firm and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth. 

He hummed. “You gonna use me to get yourself off, dollface?” he breathed in question. His voice was lust-dipped and low, barely above a whisper yet it rang so heavy in my chest that I could swear it was deeper than the thunder. 

I let out a noise in response (something like a mix between a whimper and a hum) and again rocked up into the muscle of his leg as I pressed my forehead to his, eyes squeezing shut to focus on the sensation blooming between my thighs. 

“Use your words,” Mary all but tutted, voice still low in timbre. 

“Yes,” I sputtered. Fuck dignity.

He hummed in response and captured my lips with his again, pressing hard as he kissed me with purpose. His hand on my jaw moved to grab my other hip and he let his body fall into mine as he pulled my body up into his leg in time with my own movements. “Keep going,” he murmured against my mouth. Touch. Sound.

Unabashedly, I moved my hips into his thigh with the help of his strong grasp. The friction changed as I felt my own arousal begin to dampen the fabric of my panties and I groaned into the kiss at the feel of the cotton gliding over my clit with each quickening movement. 

Mary’s mouth moved across my jaw and down to the crook of my neck and shoulder, and he began to work at the skin there, biting and sucking along the sensitive areas he’d been cataloging since our last time on this couch. My eyes fluttered open half-lidded in the darkness and I raked my hand through his long hair, gripping it against the scalp as I moved senselessly against him, chasing a release I knew he could provide me. 

“Fuck, you’re so eager,” he growled out against my skin. I swear I could feel the pounding of his pulse through our mashed chests and his words only increased a need that I’d been suppressing since he’d fucked me breathless against my kitchen countertop.

Mary’s distinct scent clouded me, wet-straw colored hair hung in my peripherals, cigarettes and cheap beer and the taste of his kiss covered my lips and tongue, fabric rubbed against fabric and wet mouths primed heated skin, and every explosion of his body rocked and pulled and ground against mine into a sensory explosion. Smell. Sight. Taste. Sound. Touch.

No more storm. No more thunder. No more rain. We made our own natural disaster. 

And I was distracted. Fully distracted in that I didn’t recognize it was my voice that let out a breathy ‘so good’. So successfully distracted that the beeping of the notification on my phone was easily discounted. In fact, the subsequent beeping that followed seconds later was also minimized. And the one after that. I could feel the fuzzy feeling building deep below my navel and I chased it with every movement of my body against Mary’s, and the feeling of his own hardness growing against my thigh made me that much more desperate. He was clearly getting something out of this, too. 

“Take what you need,” Mary’s muffled voice sounded against my clavicle. “Take whatever —fuck— take whatever you want, babydoll.”

So, I did. I ground furiously against him and reached for the peak of my climb, oblivious to the buzzing and chiming of my phone on the coffee table beside us. Except, we’d forgotten we weren’t alone, and not everyone was able to ignore the phone’s noises. 

Brutus’ deep, loud barking rang through the sunken den unexpectedly, causing both Mary and I to jump in surprise, Mary’s head knocking against the side of my jaw. He rose up on his forearms instantaneously and gripped his forehead with a loud ‘fuck’ and I matched his reaction as I cupped my jaw and let out a slew of expletives. 

The light from my screen illuminated the once sleeping dog’s face and I groaned out as I haphazardly reached an arm towards the table to feel for my phone. I unlocked the device and was met with a litany of notifications from Des. I groaned and slammed my head back against the couch cushion. For working so hard to get Mary and I alone together, Desiree sure knew how to cock block. 

I brought the phone up and with squinted eyes, I read over the text messages that had gathered over the last hour. 

Des: how’s it going over there? 

Des: i heard the storm is supposed to get even worse

Des: is brutie doing okay? He gets whiny with loud noises sometimes

Des: shit someone on instagram posted that the power is out for like 5,000 people. you still okay?

Des: wow. okay. don’t answer me. you guys must be really busy 😏

Des: there are condoms in the bedside drawer 😘 cum stains wash out best with cold water ❤

Des: you still never told me about his dick btw

By now, Mary had sat back on his haunches and the pressure of his thigh was completely gone from where I most wanted it to be. “Who is it?” he asked, rubbing at his forehead. 

“Desiree,” I replied in a neutral tone.

Mary let out a sarcastic laugh. “What does she want?” He leaned down to try to get a peek at the phone screen and I snapped it to my chest tightly. 

“Just checking in to see how we’re faring the storm!” I said a little too quickly. I cleared my throat to try to force down the nervous lump that was forming. “And wanted to see how Brutus is doing with the thunder.”

I expected Mary to eye me suspiciously, but if he had caught on to anything, he surely didn’t show it. I typed out a quick response to Des, explaining that yes, we were okay, and no, Brutus wasn’t being a handful, before adding a quick ‘fuck you’ and an eyeroll emoji to her later comments. 

I set the phone down on the table and looked up at the man currently straddling my body. My heart began to speed up again as I took in my surroundings. It was dark in the room, but the light from the storm outside and the glow of the kitchen nearby illuminated him with chiaroscuro that any Renaissance painter would envy. Judging by the bulge in his jeans, the interruption wasn’t enough to sully his erection, and he looked down at me as if he was waiting for me to say the words to continue. 

I felt my chest tighten and another crackle of lightning peppered the room in flushed white. What was I doing? This was Mary: resident bad boy, metal enthusiast, best friend of my best friend’s boyfriend, and come to think of it, a guy who never seemed to show up with the same girl at his side. I didn’t sleep around purely from the fact that it was impossible for me to avoid catching feelings. Blame it on the oxytocin release.

But nothing we had done was wrong and nothing had been the result of deeper feelings, right? We were two consenting adults, two friends that enjoyed each other’s company. Couldn’t that be enough? Sex didn’t have to equal commitment or a deeper connection. It could be loose, free, fun. It was what Des always encouraged me to explore, anyway. Right? 

Despite my reasoning, I felt a weight pressing on my sternum and threatening to rise up my throat. His stare was piercing, and all I could smell was leather and cologne and cigarettes, and the taste of him on my bottom lip, and his weight on my legs, and my breath felt like it was going to rip my lungs open and—

“We should turn in for the night,” I blurted out.

I searched his face for any sort of reaction and was met with a split second of confusion before his demeanor went calm. 

“Sure, if that’s what you want.”

Take what you want rang heavy in my ears from just moments before. 

“Y-yeah, it’s getting late and I worked today, so…”

He stood up from his position over me and I sat up against the arm of the sofa. I chewed my lip, battling the decision I’d just made for the both of us. 

“I’ll take the couch, you can have Tommy’s bed,” Mary said nonchalantly as he took a swig from the forgotten beer bottle on the coffee table. Oddly chivalrous. 

I shook my head almost immediately. “No, I’ll take the couch.” Mary opened his mouth to protest, but I held firm. “I am not sleeping in Thomas’ bed. That sounds like the 7th circle of hell. My best friend is frequently naked in that bed and who knows when those sheets were last washed.”

Mary laughed at this. A deep chuckle and a shake of his head as he motioned towards me with the beer bottle between pointer finger and thumb. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never seen her naked.”

Embarrassed, flustered, and wholly unsatisfied from practically humping the metalhead in front of me, I scoffed. “Not like that and not by choice.”

Mary grinned in enjoyment of my response. “Stay up late and play with each others’ tits after a pillow fight?”

A frustrated groan breached my lips. “You’ve been watching way too much porn, Goore,” I said. I reached for one of the long discarded throw pillows and lobbed it at him, feeling a hint of disappointment when he dodged it easily.

He held up both hands, one still holding the bottle. “Suit yourself,” he began, backing up while still facing me, then adding with a smirk, “don’t get too scared with the storm.”

I watched as he turned and made his way down the hallway, beer in hand as he ventured to Thomas’ room. Leaning back into the cushions of the couch, I sighed. 

🜏🜏🜏

My fingers curled around the stiff microfiber blanket that I’d lazily thrown over myself as I’d sunk into Thomas’ well-worn plaid couch.

I tried to coat myself in the scratchy throw to avoid the feeling of the couch cushions on the exposed skin of my legs and arms. It was a touch-memory that brought me back to flying high in the same den, legs straddling the man that now slept peacefully down the hallway in the master bedroom. 

As much as I didn’t want to reconcile with the feelings of fear, I was on edge. The movie set my panic into motion, but the worsening storm was what lit the engine. It had progressed from the percussive pelting drops against the windows and siding to roars of wind and sprays of harsh rain that sounded like fire hoses. Thunder boomed every so often and I heard its fallout whip through the trees with horrid whistles — true cries of the damned. 

I let out a shaky breath and reached my hand down to pet the dog curled on the bed on the floor. Focus on the fur. Soft. Spindle it between your fingertips. Smooth. Warm. My heartbeat started to calm and my lizard brain crept back into its recesses. 

My eyes relaxed in their shut state and I nuzzled a bit harder into the pillow. I felt my exhaustion begin to take hold. And just as I began to float into the downward spiral of sleep, a boisterous crack sliced through the sky. It reminded me of the jet planes that flew at the air shows when I was little - the ones that broke the sound barrier - and my shriek that followed rivaled in volume. 

Bright white lightning strobed through the windows of the house. A quick succession of flashes flickered like a searchlight on the fritz. The house went dark again. 

The dog's ears perked as he sat up and I followed suit, blanket bunched around my knees and clutched with firm fists to my chest. Just like after a blinding camera flash, my eyes were shot. I could just barely make out the shapes of the furniture and walls. 

“You okay?” a voice asked mere feet away from me.

Startled, I let out another quick scream before slamming my palm tight against my mouth. My eyes continued to adjust and I noticed the figure turned from swirling black mass to humanoid to Mary within a split second.

“I’m fine,” I breathed out. I brought my hands down to grip onto the couch cushions. Mary stood before me in his boxers. Messy hair tousled around his shoulders and chest in waves a la 1980s glam rock (though I was certain that bedhead was a more likely culprit) and willed myself not to search through the inky black of the den to determine if he was wearing a shirt or not. 

“Do you usually scream like a banshee when you’re fine?” he quipped as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

No shirt I noted. 

I rubbed my hands against my face, pressing my fingertips into the sockets of my eyes. “Just not a fan of storms.”

“Yeah, so you said.” A moment passed. The only sound in the air was the howling wind from outside until he broke the quiet. “You sure you’re good out here?”

“I’ve got Brutie.”

“Alright,” he sighed. After a moment, I could feel he’d left again, and I willed myself back into the couch cocoon I’d built myself. 

I must have fallen asleep. Be it the adrenaline crash or the exhaustion, I wasn’t sure how I’d finally managed. It was in vain, however, when another loud burst of lightning and thunder rumbled through the house. The same strobe of light pulsated briefly, and in the distance, a booming crash. Before I knew it, I was on my feet. 

Fuck this fuck this fuck this I whispered to myself as I sped through the house. My hands reached out in front of me as bumpers to the still unfamiliar landscape, and after padding down the hallway in bare feet, I reached around for the doorknob to Thomas’ room. 

His room was better lit than the living room. The orange-y glow of the one working street lamp in the distance painted the walls with a near apocalyptic hue and illuminated Mary’s sleeping form on the bed. He was facing away from me, but I could tell he was out (shocking considering the resonance of the lightning and thunder). 

I bit my lip and crossed my arms over my shoulders as I shifted my weight from foot to foot. I didn’t even know what I was doing here. I sure as hell didn’t want to sleep in Thomas’ bed, and the thought of sleeping next to Mary made me more anxious than anything. Well, except the storm. What was I thinking? I felt like a child standing at the foot of their parents’ bed after having a nightmare, waiting with fearful eyes and too-small pajamas for them to invite me in for the night. 

Duller thunder hummed outside and I was reminded of the fear that had clenched my chest just minutes prior. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt having another person with me, could it? Clearly, the dog wasn’t enough.

I slowly sank onto the opposite edge of the bed, making myself featherlight, and lifted one leg up along the mattress as my other foot held firm against the floor. Mary didn’t move. I swung the other leg up onto the bed and pulled the covers down before sliding under, the shifting sheets whisper silent, and leaned back against the pillow. 

I lay board stiff, hand on my chest, and watched as the tree branches dappled the streetlight in whooshing patterns across the ceiling. Like dark sparkles, it lulled me into a sense of calm, and I let my eyes fall shut again. The bed shifted and I felt Mary turn over, arm flopping out towards the middle of the bed to land hand first into my arm. His eyebrows crinkled in his sleep and his eyelids fluttered wearily at the feeling of his skin against my own. 

“Doll?” he asked, eyes stained with sleep. 

I turned my head to face him, hands still clasped against my chest. “Sorry, I—” I began, taking a moment to let out a shaky breath, “ — I freaked out.”

I braced for a chuckle, eyeroll, anything that was typical of Mary, but it never came. Instead, he lifted up the blankets as if to silently beckon me over. “C’mere,” he croaked, voice clearly still lethargic. 

In any other situation, I’d take pause, but this wasn’t any situation. I scrambled over like a child. He tucked his arm around me and brought me to his bare chest. I could smell the fragrance 

of the shampoo he used as I rested my head in the crook of his neck (I guess he’d been telling the truth about that shower), and my own arms came up to curl against his skin. An arm flopped around my middle, pulling me impossibly close, and our knees brushed under the blanket. 

Surprisingly, I felt calmness wash over me. I likened it to the bear-like embrace, skin-on-skin, some sort of instinctual response to the comfort of another human. But his heartbeat pumped strongly beneath my fingertips and I could feel his steady breath floating across the top of my hair and down my neck, and in that moment, I wondered if it was a little more than just human instinct. 

A beat percussed in time. I traced my fingertips along the skin of his arm, ghost-light, dipping down the valleys and peaks of muscle that I knew flexed taut when he strummed his Epiphone SG. Goosebumps appeared under my digits and he shifted under the sheet. 

“Tickles,” he murmured atop my head.

“Sorry,” I whispered, bringing my hands back to rest against his torso. Sandwiching them between the cotton of my oversized tee and the smooth skin of his pecs would have to do. 

It was quiet — so quiet that I assumed he had fallen asleep again. But his soft breaths were broken by his even softer voice. “You’re cute when you’re scared,” he said. 

I let out a chuckle. “Gee, thanks.”

He hummed and although I couldn’t see it, I could hear his tongue wet his lips, jaw pressing against the top of my head from the movement. “It’s different from the typical Dahlia.”

My mind raced back to our earlier conversation, the one where he’d accused me of hiding my emotions. Is this what he meant? Was fear what he considered transparency? I looked up at him quizzically, breaking the connection of his chin using my crown as an actual headrest. 

His eyes were open, and despite the foreglow of the streetlights and darkness, I could better feel his stare than see it. His hair was still a step down from a rat’s nest, tangled from sleep, and strands hung down around his angular face. His cheeks were beginning to stubble with five o’clock shadow. Breaths pushed past his lips steadily, even, but beneath the pads of my fingers, I could sense his heart pumping solidly in his chest. Only a hairline fracture separated our faces. 

Outside, a whistle of strong wind thwipped against the siding of the house like a widow’s cry and my body instinctively tensed. His arm that had lethargically slung across my waist impulsively tightened and he pulled me even closer. 

“Hey…” he soothed. His brows were drawn in concern, and his hand traveled from the c-bout of my waist and up, up, up my tricep. It was less of a greeting and more of a reminder to land back in the present, to focus on my senses (touch, taste, smell, sight, sound), to remember I was right here, right in this moment, and I wasn’t alone. 

The mortar holding the bricks built around my heart began to disintegrate. Every block melded in a bond pattern to cage in my overcommitting self, to protect from obsession, from the inevitable swoon that I had felt with Brody and had ripped out from under me — they began to fall, piece by piece. 

It was the both of us that drew our mouths to meet. The kiss was lazy, sleepy, languid at first, morphing into prolonged pecks that added a harmony to the pattering rain, gusts of wind, and bouts of thunder rumbling the outside earth. His hand continued to rub against my upper arm and beat by beat, the kiss heightened, and slowly, surely, lips met tongue, and then teeth, and I was angling my neck to the right to keep him from digging into the pillow. 

Mary shifted. His fingers gripped my arm as he moved to lay halfway on top of me. Our legs tangled together, and as he slid his own against my calf, barely stilling, I was certain he’d just discovered that my nightwear consisted of only an oversized t-shirt and panties. 

I could sense his erection pressing through the thin cotton of his boxers against my thigh. My brain zapped back to hours prior when he had boxed me in on the couch and let me take pleasure from his strong quads. A fire raged within me that rivaled my hair spilling across Thomas’ pillows like a red sea.

Mary’s hand moved to skim under the hem of my shirt, tracing against my hip bone before it, too, went up, up, up, hovering just over the curve of my breast before cupping it. His finger traced the outline of my nipple. Once again, surroundings faded. Nothing else existed at this moment, here, right now. 

I exhaled shakily against him. Our lips were still passionately pendulating in a rhythm that the both of us had mastered by now. I took a leap of faith and pressed my thigh to his crotch, earning me a squeeze to my chest and his own shaky exhale. 

Releasing my breast, Mary swept his hand to the waistband of my panties. His fingers, rough and calloused from frets and strings, dipped underneath. He sat up slightly and broke the kiss. The smooth cotton was seesawed down my legs in a series of yanks from the free hand, and he quickly repeated the action on his own boxers, tossing them aside before returning his hand back to my chest. 

“Mary,” I breathed out.

“What?” he echoed. His eyes searched for something as he drank in my expression. 

I swallowed lightly. “I-” I began, not knowing exactly what I was saying.

But he did. “I’ve got you,” he said. His other hand came up to brush a strand of hair from my eyes. 

He kissed me again and fully framed my body with his own. I relaxed back into the pillow and he sat back to dip his hands underneath my shirt, pushing it up and off with a temporary break in our lips’ union. As he slotted himself between my legs, I looked up at him, body completely bare. I felt the anxiety creep into my chest and I was certain I looked visibly unsure — not at the prospect of what was to happen, no, but what would follow. How this would, or could, change things. 

“So goddamn pretty when you’re spread out like this,” he murmured as his hands roamed up and down my torso. I took the moment to soak up the image in front of me. His lean torso was flexed as he ran his hands along my breasts and stomach, and his cock stood heavy against his pelvis, bobbing with every movement of his touch.

He gripped himself with a soft moan, stroking slowly, methodically, and his eyes raked over my form. This wasn’t our first encounter, no, but I felt truly naked for the first time. 

With oddly found confidence, I reached forward to grasp at the junction of his shoulder and neck. I pulled him towards me and his other hand shot out to brace himself against the squeaking mattress. His stroking continued and I jolted when his knuckles came in contact with the ache between my legs. Without any spoken words, he lined himself up and then embraced me, hand on my shoulder as we met chest to chest, covering me like a blanket. 

His pause was obvious — an unspoken ask of consent to proceed which I answered with a soft kiss. I trusted him, and I assumed he trusted me. We both craved the connection, to complete the incomplete. 

As Mary pushed in, I melted beneath him. His tip pushed past and he groaned and buried his face in the curve of my neck. My hands darted out to grip onto his back and pull him close. I wanted to feel him take up space in my ribs. 

Inch by inch he sank before canting steadily. I could feel every bit of him as he rocked in and out, pulling and pushing as my heat gripped him, and for some reason it felt different. Not just raw, but whole. I took in every bit of him physically, but as we moved together in the nightglow, I also consumed the parts he’d been dressing up in leather and denim and metal and dissolved it into my flesh. I took him. 

And through my euphoria of connection, I barely registered my small eruptions of noises that highlighted each stroke of his cock to my core. I focused on the sensation of sprinkled electricity spreading from my cunt outwards, and his hot breath on my neck that I drank in like I was oxygen-starved. 

Mary’s hips began to stutter as he thrusted a little harder into my own and my legs moved to wrap instinctively around him. I keened out louder, and he lifted his head to look at me again. 

The eye contact was searing. Hot. It charred my retinas, but this time, I didn’t care. He must have sensed the vulnerability because his hand cupped my jaw and he ran his thumb across my cheekbone before our foreheads met together. 

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, “Fuck, I’ve got you.”

Like his own hail Mary. I believed him. He had me now — I was in his clutches, both literally and figuratively. 

His pace increased to match my ever-racing pulse. It was still steadied, sleepily focused, and I dug my fingers into the flesh of his back as I clenched down against the movement of his length, nearly trembling at the pull at my navel as each drag of him spurred fire. It was building, and I let it. My breath began to stutter and I felt tears at my waterline. The sensory overload was rhapsody and the simple, obvious connection was juxtaposed by the chaotic climax lapping at my center. I was so close it almost hurt. 

I moaned his name in a half-whimper and he must have felt my urgency and desperation and the increased slick coating our joined union because he crushed his lips to mine. His thumb dug into the side of my chin as he drove firmly into my aching need. But the jerking of his hips was almost too much and I could tell he wasn’t far behind me. 

As my thighs began to tremble at his sides, he broke the kiss. I looked at him with desperate longing. 

“Let it go, Doll,” he murmured to me. 

And unlike every other situation in life where I found myself stubbornly resisting direction, I obeyed. I followed his demand and allowed the fuzzy heat of my release to unfurl around him. I cried out in rapture and he swallowed the sound with an opened mouth kiss at the moment of impact. I tensed around him and my pussy spasmed with every lunge of his hard cock.

“Good girl,” Mary praised as gripped hard onto my shoulder and pressed his head to mine, lips separated, and I was enveloped in a curtain of golden-brown tangled strands. He began to move faster against me and I knew my orgasm had spurred something deep within him as he moaned out, “So good for me, taking me so damn well.”

His thumb brushed the breadth of my lip and dipped into my mouth, pulling down just barely against my tongue and teeth. I looked up at him with full eyes, grey hues drowned by pupils swimming from release, and I inwardly begged him to complete me as aftershocks of a violent orgasm short circuited. 

“So tight,” he grunted in response. “Fuck— feel so good around me, babydoll.” His hands moved to grip my hips and with a few more jolts of his hips, his cock twitched and he groaned, features melting as he spilled inside of me. His body jerked with each spurt and his fingers dug into the flesh covering my pelvic bone as he rode out his high.

Mary collapsed into me and I allowed my eyes to close as we savored the aftermath. I’m not sure how long it was, minutes, maybe more, but eventually he pulled his softened dick from me and I let out a long breath of satisfaction. My hand moved to rest against my chest as I digested the gnawing deep within me that questioned what this was. 

Mary fell to his side and pressed a quick peck to my lips before rolling onto his back and mimicking my sigh. A brief silence filled the sweat-scented air, and I moved my hand to grasp at his, squeezing it, only to receive a slight squeeze back.

Our ragged breaths eventually calmed and I opened my eyes to the textured plaster of the ceiling. 

“You good?” Mary asked after a minute. I rolled my lips inward as I thought about the weight of those two words. 

“Yeah, I’m…I’m good— I’m great,” I replied.  It was the truth. 

He hummed in response and pulled the flat sheet over himself. 

“Glad I could distract you,” He said as he nestled into the right side of the bed. Before turning, he added, “get some sleep.”

My eyes searched for patterns in the swirls of the painted gypsum of the ceiling as stillness settled in. Mary’s quiet breathing turned to soft snores. Despite the calm, serene relief from a shared orgasm, my chest was tight from the inward battle of how unbelievably intimate that experience was and how deeply I was freefalling into a mess of adoration for the man next to me.

I wondered how he could so easily turn to the side and fall asleep.

🜏🜏🜏

Despite the after effects of the record-breaking storm, Des and Thomas were able to make it home a couple of days after they’d left, right on schedule. 

They greeted Mary with their normal affections (a pat on the back from Thomas and a warm wave from Des), and the conversation immediately turned from a Brutus report to a play-by-play of Thomas’ shows out of town. 

Des noted there was no sign of her best friend, which wasn’t a surprise. She’d received my text the day before that I was heading home and that Mary was fine staying the additional time. And despite her prodding, I’d remained tightlipped.

Both she and Thomas were unaware of the telltale morning after where I’d woken up to sunbeams instead of lightning, choosing to pack up my belongings and head out early to check on my own pet at home. 

They were also unaware of the brief goodbye between Mary and I as I readied to leave — him, acting cool, aloof, and casual, as if nothing had changed, while I tried my best to mirror his demeanor with little success. Because as much as I tried to build the bricks back up, I’d let him in the night before, and he’d taken root inside the boundaries of my chest. 

I suppose that just like a day spent thrifting, I’d gone into every interaction with Mary with no expectations, and each time I’d come out with something I didn’t anticipate. The goldmines outweighed the insolvencies. I didn’t know if I wanted him to be aware of this.

Above all, I was happy for my momentary blissful unawareness (at least until later during a phone call with Des) of Thomas’ outburst upon entering his bedroom after Mary had left. His exclamation of “god damn it!” rang as loud as the thunder two nights previous, causing Des to dart in with a “what?” on her lips and the expectation of disaster. 

Thomas sighed, stained top sheet in hand. “They fucked on my bed.”

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[missmeasured]

Hey there could you write a short story about Snape catching his beloved (female reader) in a little white lie and punishing her for it? In a dominate way he could tie her up and remind her that lying is not what good girls do. The lie I have in mind is her lying when asked where she was at a certain time but he knows its false. In the end she was only trying to sneak around to get him a birthday suprise. I would like to see her hold out as long as possible before revealing the reason for her lie and maybe even be a little bit of a brat. If you can’t I understand and thank you for you’re time.

Hi Anon!

You’re in luck, and I take requests when they inspire me, and this definitely inspired me. I hope you like it!

Summary: You have just come home with Severus’ Birthday Preset, hell bent on keeping it a secret this year, but he already knows too much and you get caught in a a lie and end up being punished.

Notes: Pairing: Reader/Severus, 1st Person POV, Word Count: 4K

Content Warnings: Explicit NSFW . Reader has a vagina. Daddy kink. Ropes, spanking, vaginal fingering, Vaginal intercourse.

Daddy I’m Home

With a powerful thrust of my hip I swing the door open, struggling with the overloaded brown paper bags of groceries in my hands. “Home!” I huff out as I awkwardly kick my boots off and when I turn my head to the living room I see the Daily Prophet news sheet fold down, he looks at me from his favourite chair. I give him a smile as I rush to hide his gift before he stands up.

I move to the kitchen briskly, throwing the bags down on the counter and putting the parcel that contained his birthday present in a lower cupboard behind the potatoes. I get myself a sorely needed glass of water before putting the food away. I'm parched from rushing around to get home, I had been halfway running with the bags. When I turn around after downing my glass of water he startles me, he is right behind me. I hadn't heard him coming.

“You've been out longer than I thought.”

“Diagon Alley was busy.” I explain.

“Where did you go? Other than obviously the green grocer.”

“Florish and Blotts.”

“Yet…I see no books.”

“They didn't have that cookbook I wanted. Sold out already.” A damn shame because I had been hoping to try my hand at one of the recipe’s my friend made last night.

“Took up a lot of time, did it? Not buying a book?”

“Well I had to look to see if they had it first. What’s with the questioning?” I ask, internally scolding myself. I am already getting defensive and I had told myself I would not be.

“Well you've been gone quite some time. I really thought you would be home before me.”

“Well it took longer than I thought.”

“Indeed. You stopped nowhere else?”

“Okay you caught me! I stopped for an ice cream cone. I didn't tell you because I knew you would nag me about sweets before dinner but I was starving.” I confess to a minor transgression. Ice cream when I was about to cook for us. The roast would take at least an hour though. The ice cream had kept me going when I felt burnt out.

“Oh yes, I am no fun. It is wise to omit things that contain fun lest I become upset.” He is sarcastic, he seems annoyed.

“Why are you all grumpy?”

“Perhaps because my darling little sweetheart is lying to me.”

“I am not!” I hope my lie isn't obvious on my face. It's so hard to keep things a secret from him. How many times has he ruined a surprise for himself by being too observant? Hiding things from him was hard, he always knew when things were slightly out of place.

“You are. I was under the mistaken impression that you were a good girl, and above such nonsense as lying to my face.” He is baiting me to fight him. I told myself I would not ask him what is making him so nosey, it will give me away.

“Severus. I went to the bookstore, I got ice cream, I got groceries… maybe I chatted to too many friends along the way. Did too much window shopping. Would you scold me if something in the window of Madam Malkins caught my eye and I went in to see it?”

“I would scold you because you just lied to me again.”

I’m about to open my mouth- insist I hadn’t when I catch myself. He knows something, but I won’t ruin his birthday present just because he’s an overly observant taskmaster. I turn to try and unpack the food, to give myself time to make something else up. I take a single apple out of the bag when he raps his wand on the counter top loudly beside me and everything flies quickly to their homes, preventing me from using them as cover.

“Care to tell me what kept you?” He was looming in a manner which told me he was in a very particular mood. He was about to make a meal out of this interrogation and play with his food. In this case, me.

I start to walk away, around the island toward the living room door but suddenly he side steps me and I’m backed up against the fridge. “Did you wish to keep your coat on because you intend to run back out the front door or can I take it off?” He asks. I don't even answer, he is undoing the buttons already. Off it comes.

“Things take longer than we think sometimes. I think this dinner will take a while I should really get started…”

“Didn’t you just have an ice cream?”

“Yes but the roast needs a long time-“

“I am not so famished that I will expire if it's delayed.” He tucks some hair behind my ear as he says it. Then something coils around my ankles like a snake.

“Severus no-“ I start, not his ropes. I’m bad at keeping secrets from him at the best of times, tied up and being questioned, I’ll always fail.

“Don't start making demands. Good girls get to say no. Good girls that dont lie get to tell me they’d rather make dinner.” He snatches my hands out of the air like a lizard might snatch a fly and pulls them behind my back. His ropes slither around them too, pulling each wrist tight to the opposite elbow so my arms rested tight against my lower back with no movement.

“I’m not sure what to tell you, I went where I said I went. I didn't think you were the kind of man who wanted to control me down to the minute.” I bite, I’m getting feisty because I have done nothing wrong.

“The attitude you are giving me is unlike your usual nature. I don’t appreciate you meeting my concern with such dismissal.”

“Concern!? I went to the bloody grocery store!” I insist and that seems to rile him more. I’m thrown up and over his shoulder. “Severus, what is your problem!?” I screech as I’m carried to the living room.

“Guess.” He answers as he puts me down.

“I’m going to choose to remain silent.” I sniff haughtily.

“Guilty little pet.” He grumbles. He sits in his favourite chair and pulls me down over his lap ignoring my protests. “Did you know where you were going when you left this morning?”

“Sort of…” I answer truthfully.

“Not all of your trip was planned?”

“No, the ice cream shop was not planned as I said.” I snap. This earns me a slap across the rear before I’m expecting it. “I’m not lying!”

“You are answering me like a brat.”

“I am answering you honestly!” I bite then yelp because he got me again with a really stingy one.

“Incorrect.” He drawls and then we are silent. I chew on my words instead of speaking them. I’m trying to do something nice for him and I am being punished for it. “I shall answer your question because I am not unreasonable. I am angry because a certain someone was in a very dangerous part of Knockturn Alley alone today.”

Shit. I’m still not sure what he knows and I don't want to blow the surprise. What to tell him… I could try to deflect. Asking him if he was there seemed too guilty though.

“I’m waiting.”

“I think you are intent on punishing me so you might as well get on with it.”

Normally each blow to my behind would be accompanied by soothing caresses, apparently my attitude meant I was not afforded them. After a solid round of ten or more, I had lost count, he finally rested his palm against me, but still it did not rub the sting out. He pauses and is silent. My breathing is loud in my ears.

“This silence is the space designed for you to tell me the true story.”

“My silence is my answer.”

“Is it your intention to test my patience?”

“My intention is to get through this so I can start dinner.”

His ropes start multiplying. They begin to wrap my whole torso like a fly in a spider web. They encircle every inch of me all the way up my neck to my face. They don’t squeeze me, but they threaten. He stands and my body is lifted into the air before him. He’s taking me upstairs and I’m not sure why. “Tell me darling, why am I wrapping you up so tightly?”

“I’m not a legilimens.” I answer sarcastically and the ropes squeeze me as punishment as we move up the stairs and into the bedroom.

“Because you apparently need a reminder that you are mine. I shouldn’t have to wrap my magic around you and squeeze you with it for you to remember.” He says as I am deposited on the bed. “What does it mean for you to be mine, sweetheart?”

“That you insist on hitting me repeatedly on the backside when you don’t get your exact way?”

“This isn’t about me getting my exact way. This is about you disregarding your safety.” He is unfastening my trousers. “Since you so cleverly wormed your way into my heart… it is now your responsibility not to die, or to otherwise be kidnapped, cursed, hexed, jinxed or harmed in any way when you could have easily asked me for an escort.” As he lists the things he thinks could have happened to me in Knockturn alley he eases his hands inside my clothing more and more. He pushes the trousers down a little more with each word.

“A part of being mine is not offering up what is mine to various unsavoury characters by going shopping where there are dark corners and bad people looking for a sweet little thing that can be corrupted, coerced, or just plain tricked out of her gold.” The trousers slip off the ends of my feet and he steals my socks too. I’m wiggling on the cool of the duvet in my lacey panties and a turtleneck top he can’t steal unless he is willing to unleash my arms from their ropes.

“Severus, are you telling me that in addition to spanking me you are going to call me naive, easily tricked, and stupid?”

“I am not calling you those things. You are nothing except foolish.” He leaned over and grabbed my torso by the ropes, sliding me over to him. I am trying to avoid being spanked any more so put my feet on his chest and try to push away. “Stop being so difficult.” He grunts.

“Fine.” I bite and move my feet quickly off him so the way he is pulling on me results in me sliding across the bed and our hips meeting in the middle. I wrap my legs around him. “Is that better, sir?” I ask sarcastically.

“Tone, sweetheart.” He warns.

“Temper, dear.” I return.

Then he tries to move me back across his knees and I struggle. This must surprise him, as I never fight him. Usually my punishments are fake things, for transgressions imagined so that we might have some fun together. Normally I am spanked and I am petted in equal measure and it always leads to more sensual touch than pain. This pain for the sake of real punishment has me so feisty and riled that I try, even with my arms immobilised, to get out of his grasp, but he’s strong.

His hand comes down painfully against my almost bare behind and I still, sitting in the string of it. His fingers trace the lace edge of my knickers to where they disappear into the cleft of my bum and I wiggle at the ticklish sensation as it dances along with the painful one.

“Darling, now is the time to say what it is you were doing there. Otherwise I’ll be giving you nine more to complete this set.”

“One.” I belatedly count with gritted teeth in spiteful answer.

He is silent and gives me another.

“Two.” I grumble and I hear emotion in my voice. He rubs my behind for the first time since he began this punishment.

“Three.” My voice cracks, damn it. He is still. I listen to his breathing. He rubs me. I try to force myself to breathe slowly. “Four- Aaaahh I was getting you a birthday present!” I start to count but it hurts enough that I can’t take it anymore, not the pain as much as the implication that I somehow deserve it.

“From Knockturn alley?”

“I know you’ve been out of Doxy eggs and Jobberknoll feathers for three months and I heard the shop down there had gotten a rather large shipment of supplies so I went to inquire.”

“Oh, Darling… that’s a very thoughtful gift… yet it is still true that it’s too dangerous for you to go there alone to acquire such things for me. As thoughtful as you were being.” He responds.

“I feel like you are underestimating my ability to protect myself.” I whimper.

“Are you crying?” He asks.

“I’m just angry.” I answer, trying to control my breathing before I outright weep.

“Sweetheart…We’ve talked about this. You have to use the safeword if you’re feeling overwhelmed.” He sighs and his ropes release me.

I get off him and roll up in a ball on the bed facing away from him. “I wasn’t sure we were playing. You seemed very angry.”

“I was angry. I was completely confused as to why I saw you coming out of that alley and why you were so bloody intent on hiding the truth of it from me. Merlin sake, you could have made some horrible deal with someone down there and have been hiding it from me to save yourself from my ire when I might be the one who could help you.”

I peaked over my shoulder to respond. “You naturally assumed that if I was trying to evade your ire that I would respond best to being tied up and punished?”

Regret washes over his face. “I’m so sorry, pet.”

“You ruined your surprise.” I pout.

He crawls over me, pulling my chin out so he can kiss my lips. “I’m sorry, sweetness.” He kisses again. “How do I prove I’m sorry?” I try to move away from his lips but he is persistent. “Give me those pouting lips, precious.”

“You can’t kiss it better, mister meanie.”

He moves away and I hear him rummage in the bedside drawer. He is probably getting the lotion he made for taking away the sting of these spankings. Sure enough a few moments later I feel his hand come back to my half exposed behind and begin gently rubbing it into my flesh that has been tingling from his harder than usual smacks.

He takes his time, carefully getting everywhere, and even sliding his fingers under the lace and getting the upper part of my behind too. When he’s done his hand presses flat over me and rubs over me, his palm skims my sex on it’s way down to rub my thighs and I can’t help but make a little noise as he brushes me.

Never one to miss a small noise, his hand reverses course, tickling the backs of my thighs before those fingers come up and tentatively pet me through the lace. I surprise myself with my moan. I didn’t think I had been aroused by the spanking, it wasn’t like how it normally was and yet when he touched me all the nerves in my body screamed for more.

I was still curled up hiding my face from him in the blankets. He pressed his fingers against me and leaned over to try to see my reaction. “I don’t want to be presumptuous, darling, but your knickers are very wet…” he began. “Do you want me to touch you, or are you too sore at me for it?”

I gave a noncommittal grumble. I was angry. I was also very aroused, and didn’t want to admit it. I heard him breath out of his nose in amusement at my disgruntled mumbles. He trailed those fingertips up and down the part of me that was exposed to him in my defensive side curl.

I started panting into the duvet. When he pulled the lace to the side he paused before slowly touching me “My apology petting is making you so slick, sweetheart. Do you want more? I’m just going to… spread this around, oh dearest… you feel all swollen and ready… do you want daddy’s finger?” He pressed in barley centimetre and I whimpered.

“I see you are determined not to answer me, I will have to read the signs…” he murmurs before I moan into the bedspread as he sank that finger into me. I’m trying to remember my anger but I can’t as he slowly penetrates me over and over while petting my clit and making me clench around him. “I know I have been very bad, precious, but I was only thinking of your safety. I don’t know what I would do without you.” He tells me softly. “Please, dearest, show me your pretty face I can’t stand to have you hide it from me.” He begs softly while making me come undone. Why must he have this power over me?

Truthfully it’s getting awfully hot, panting into the duvet cover with my face hidden from him so I roll my torso over. He smiles at me as I emerge. “There’s my girl…”

“I’m … still.. mad.” I manage but with difficulty as I move towards orgasm.

“I’ll be your eager servant until you forgive me.”

“I need more…” I whine, I’ve been hovering at the edge of something for minutes now and I can’t quite grasp at it.

“My mouth?” He asks.

I shake my head no. I stretch my arms out to him. I want to feel his body weight on me, to be reassured in his wanting of me. I know he is trying to repent for making me angry but I also need to know he is no longer mad. I want to feel him hold me like his ropes had.

“Are you sure?” He asks, but he does withdraw from me in order to crawl above me, seeking a kiss.

“Squeeze please.” I demand with my outstretched arms.

“Before or during?” He smirks.

“Both.” I answer impatiently. He gives me a tight hug, letting his body weight go, he crushes me into the bed. The wool of his clothing is soft on my fingers but sratchy on my inner thighs. When I start grinding against him he pulls away for a moment and relieves me of my undergarments and unbuttons his trousers. “All off.” I instruct, knowing he will likely leave it all on, but my fingers want his flesh and I won’t let him stay buttoned up. It takes a couple of minutes but it’s worth it when he returns. He tries to take my turtleneck. “No. I’m keeping that. I’m always naked you’re always dressed. This time you shiver, I’ll stay cozy. In fact, fetch my socks.” I demand teasingly, and I bite my lip and grin to watch him naked with an erection find my socks with my discarded trousers and bring them back to my feet. He puts them on neatly. I hold open my arms again. “Squeeze.”

“I’m coming…” He rolls his eyes. He is not doing so well at being a devoted servant, he is already giving sass. He does follow orders through and while he squeezes me he kisses me and eventually he pulls away just a little to position himself so he can be inside me.

I sigh happily to be filled and squished at the same time. I wrap my legs around him so my warm sock covered feet cross behind his back. He rocks gently back and forth into me. “I love you, you grumpy man.” I breath into his ear. “Even though… mmm…. You ruin all your presents…”

“I have not ruined anything. While I adore the idea of your present, the only gift I truly cherish is you. So next time… ruin the surprise and ask me to come with you, my love. You’ll make me go grey prematurely worrying over you.” He pants.

“I have one last request for your penance...” I say somewhat shyly.

“Mmm?” He asks, nose buried in my neck, kissing me.

“Fuck me like you’re still mad.” I say it like a question in case he isn’t game for it.

“Oh with pleasure, darling.” He smiles before lifting his weight off me, then biting my neck till I squeal. He begins to slam his hips into mine “Who do you belong to?” He asks.

“You.” I whimper in character.

“That’s right, you were endangering something that belongs to me.” Fuck he’s all stern and it makes me go wild.

“I’m sorry.” I breathe, giving him big apology eyes just for my own enjoyment.

“Don’t make daddy worry or else he is going to treat you like a bad girl. Do you understand?” His dark eyes burrow into me. He’s playing mad daddy for me, but I know there is still truth in this for him.

“Yes sir.” I whimper between mews of pleasure.

“Do you feel you have sufficiently learned your lesson?” When his stern is mixed with being out of breath from the effort of fucking me hard it makes my toes curl.

“Yes.” I choke out.

“I think I will restore your status to good girl provided you remind yourself to whom you belong by begging me to let you come, and then saying my name while you do so.”

Beg him? Provided I have time before my climax comes rushing through my body while he lectures me. “Please Daddy. Please let me come, I promise to be good.”

“Good girl.” He grins, sliding his hand between us to pet me where he knows I won't be able to hold out. “Let me hear you.” He croons. I know I asked for this role play but I feel like he has taken the opportunity to teach me a lesson, to remind me how he makes my body feel. I do belong to him in this way.

“Severus!” I gasp, clutching at his shoulders as he slams into me repeatedly and the waves of pleasure build up then explode through me. He kisses my neck and switches to slow easy thrusts as I spasm around him, eventually slipping out of me but pulling me in close, listening to my shattered breathing.

“Did you not?” I look at him. I hadn't felt him climax with me.

“Doing penance.” He reminded me.

“For how long?” I asked with a laugh.

“Until… I don’t know until after dinner at the least.”

“Oh such a long time for you to abstain.” I roll my eyes.

“I believe you said dinner will take a while.”

“Maybe an hour… Two at most.”

“It will be a very long two hours, precious, as you do look so divine in an apron. If you wish to torture me you could get flour on your face, then I will be really put out about not being able to pull you onto the floor and make you mine.”

“Sir, you will find me willing and able to torture you this evening so don’t give me ideas. Maybe I’ll be wearing nothing but that apron and ample amounts of flour.”

#severus snape #snape #Severus #severus snape fanfiction #fanfiction #severus snape fic #severus x reader #pro snape #snape community #snape smut #snape love #severus smut #severus x y/n #severus x you #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x you #Snape x reader smut #snape x reader #severus snape x reader smut #asks #anon reply #missmeasured #snapedom

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags - Part 16: In the Blood

📖I'm amused you guys voted on this one as the one that inspired DTDT. I wouldn't say this one was one of the big three, but it ended up becoming my inspiration for Jake's backstory.

Also, this was me after that last part: 🏃‍♀️<-🔱🔥

I'm so sorry I broke all of your hearts with part 15! They have a happy ending, I swear! We just have to get through the angst first... And Sadie... Oh dear... I cried writing this... so it's safe to say maybe bring tissues?

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, original child character, Shitty family dynamics, Angst, talk about break ups, talk about therapy, probably inaccurate dogfight descriptions (I tried my best!), Jake is going through it, Emotional & Protective Sadie (She needs her own warning), & Protective Bradley.

#6K words

Part 16 | Masterlist | Part 17

It had to be the shock.

The reason why there were gaps in your memory. You don’t remember climbing into the front seat of Rooster's Bronco. Or even putting on your seat belt or him pulling out of the parking lot.

He probably had to do it for you.

You had to remind yourself he was driving you home. That you just very publically broke up with Jake in the Hard Deck. Spit-roasted George with very colourful vernacular.

You'd have to explain to Penny why you were swearing in her bar again. But you had a more pressing predicament than wondering what might happen in the aftermath of that experience, which would presumptively have Hangman's callsign back on the sign in the bathroom.

Even with a broken heart, you felt like you were a child being allowed to sit in the front seat of a car. Under the scrutiny of an "I'm not mad, just disappointed" parent driving you home from school. White hot anxiety coursed through your veins with the assumption you did something so incredibly wrong; you just didn't know what.

Rooster was eerily silent. Next to the roar of his engine and AC fan, the silence was constructing. Suffocating. He should be gloating, listing off all the ways you ignored him, ignored the team that day on the soccer field. All the ways he was going to hurt Hangman the next time he saw him.

It was driving you insane.

"Are you going to gloat? Say, I told you so?" you finally huffed through your tears when it became too much. "Hangman did what he does best?"

"Not today, Liz."

Out of all the things you expected him to say, that was not one of them. It almost made it worse. Like you were genuinely expecting a verbal argument, and the fact you weren't getting one was making you pout like an actual child.

"I'm sorry for what happened," he offered eventually, after a pregnant pause. A horrible scraggly sound accompanied your hiccup.

"I should never have let Sadie invite him to Saturday nights."

"No, I'm sorry for what I said in your hallway," he countered. "For the way I acted."

Ironic, isn't it? The person you knew to be the most childish when expressing his emotions was sobering your petulant thoughts and behaviour. Even when your mind and obsessive internal dialogue went, why the fuck did he think now was a good time as any to apologize?!

You dropped your chin to your chest. "But you did," you huffed, hugging yourself against the sudden chill. “In front of Sadie, no less.”

Had you turned your head, you would have seen Bradley nodding absentmindedly, his eyes staring blankly at the road.

“It was uncalled for, Liz. The fact you felt you needed to hide it from me….” he trailed off. You sniffed, wiping at your cheeks, letting him gather his words. "I get it. Why you didn't. I wouldn't have taken the news differently even if you had told me. It might have been worse."

“Still, I should have told you,” you offered, shaking your head before staring out the window, watching the trees blur by. “Not that it matters now.”

Bradley gritted his teeth, hands flexing on the steering wheel. He wanted to mouth off. Not about you ignoring his warnings but all the ways Hangman was a complete and utter cock.

He couldn't. You didn't deserve that in the fragile state you were in. Fragile wouldn't even be in the vocabulary of words Bradley would ever use to describe you. Hangman had made you like this, played you and your feelings.

It was never going to be your fault. He had realized that after the fight. When he promised he'd be there for you and Sadie, he didn't know what that meant or what it looked like.

A punch to Jake's face? Hearing it after the fact? Not actually being there to witness it? Him rambling off all the things he hated about Hangman? Ultimately, Bradley could only offer a measly retort of, "He's an asshole."

You swallowed hard. You couldn't deny Bradley's remark.

Jake being an asshole at that moment was him being Hangman, a side you thought you'd never have to see. For him to so readily agree with George, there was no other way you couldn’t interpret those words as anything but him playing you, using you.

Had he not given you that condensing grin and spoken those words, you might have believed he was merely being triggered by the presence of his brother.

You should have been waiting for the other shoe to drop. You felt foolish, naive, and utterly lost. The grief of losing Ridley was and had always been a constant companion, but this felt different. It was the realization that you had let him in and allowed him to become a part of Sadie's life and yours. You had trusted him, and he had betrayed that trust in the cruellest way possible.

You just wanted to know why? Why he lashed out at you? Why did he act like he cared when he didn’t?

Why? Why? Why?

You’d never get an answer from him now. You wanted to stay away from him, ignore him, avoid every mention or instance of him and his fucking callsign. The wall was back up, and it would never come back down. Instead, fixing your eyes on his dashboard, with no judgment in your voice, you asked Bradley, “Why Roo? Why did you lash out like that?”

Bradley sighed once, tapping his thumb against his steering wheel.

“Loving any of us is a death sentence, Liz. One day you might wake up and find one of us is gone. Just like that.” He shuttered in a breath. “I think, in some twisted way, I wanted to spare you the pain of losing someone you were in love with that way.”

He tried to find the words to explain his next point delicately, but there was no other way he could say it to you without not getting his point across. “You don’t handle grief well, Liz. You barely found the strength to carry on had it not been for Sadie.”

You huffed, knowing deep down he was right but doing absolutely everything in your power to keep denying it. You weren’t doing this today. If not, ever.

Bradley heard you but continued anyway, leaving your reaction tucked away for later. “I didn’t want you to end up like my mom. Sadie to end up like me. Cause him? He always flew like he had nothing to lose; he would do something foolish sooner than later. You would be left to mourn him. For Sadie to mourn him. I didn’t want that for you.”

He paused, letting his words sink in. Yet, you blurted out suddenly, "You need to go to therapy, Roo."

Bradley laughed softly. You looked over at him, slightly worried he might be having a fit. But it was a genuine reaction. And despite everything, you caught a tiny smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

You shouldn't be laughing. Not with the heavyweight still pressing down on your chest. Yet, sitting next to Rooster as he drove you home, his laughter was the only thing that seemed to be cutting through the heavy fog weighing over you.

Nothing could be done to suppress the laugh that bubbled up inside your chest. Bradley's grin widened, his laughter louder when he realized you were fighting your own. You couldn't help but join him. Whether the pain in your chest was from the laughter or the heartache, you couldn’t tell.

When the two of you finally managed to stop laughing, Bradley admitted with laboured breath. "I am, actually."

You turned to face him, utterly shocked. "Since when?!"

"Two days after." He doesn't need to be explicit. You know what he's referring to. "There's someone on base. I've only had one session so far, but it's making me realize I should have gone sooner."

You stared at him in disbelief.

If he had told you that, come to you while you were still working, or if he had called or even texted, you would have forgiven him instantly. You couldn't hold what he did to you against him after an admission like that.

"I'm proud of you, Bradley," you said, wiping your nose. "I really am."

He glanced over at you, a level of warmth in his eyes. “I needed to hit rock bottom and get a push by a few people. People who cared.”

His response was cryptic. It couldn't have been just you and Sadie, not after how you screamed at him or after Sadie kicked him out. Or even anyone on the Squad. It made you wonder who was his catalyst for the sudden change of thought. For now, you were just glad he was getting help.

You gave him a small smile, making Bradley reach over and grab your hand, squeezing it tightly. You gripped it back, but when he went to let go, you tightened your hand in panic.

"Just... Don't let go. Not yet."

Bradley didn't let go, driving one-handed the remainder of the journey back to your house. The two of you didn't say anything else. You sat silently even when he pulled into your driveway and turned off the ignition.

You didn't want to get out of his Bronco. You didn't want to walk into your house and see all the traces of Jake. You didn't want to gather his things in his bag. Leave them on the front porch, or change the spot for the emergency key.

But that was what happened when you went through a breakup, right? These were the things that needed to be done.

Bradley broke the extended silence, his voice deep and gentle when he asked, "What will you tell Sadie?"

Sadie.

You paused. You didn't really need to think about your answer. Just the weight of what it truly meant to say it out loud.

"The truth. As I've always done."

This was your worst fear about dating. The one that arose when you became Sadie's guardian. The one that so precariously dangled over your head when you told Jake you were a package deal. It wasn't the threat of betrayal, wasted time, or memories turning bittersweet.

As bad as that was at the Hard Deck, as broken and in pieces as your heart was, telling Sadie would be worse.

Jake broke your heart.

Now you had to break Sadie's too.

You glanced at Bradley, searching his eyes before asking him quietly, "Wanna come with me to pick her up from Penny's?"

Bradley smiled, nodding softly.

---

It was the eighth time the F-18s had flown this exercise this week. Coyote, Rooster, Hangman, and even Maverick, all had taken turns flying it with each other, in pairs, to navigate an imaginary narrow terrain.

Had Hangman been paying more attention, he would have questioned the sudden need to practice this particular exercise repeatedly and why it was just them, not Phoniex, Bob, Payback, and Fanboy. The first few times had been a simple flight test, learning the route, the twists, and the turns.

He was never more ruthless than in the cockpit, especially now. All that was child's play compared to some of the stuff he had done throughout his Naval carrier.

But today's addition? They wanted to see how they handled the pattern while dog fighting.

Rooster had decided to make it personal.

"Come on, Hangman!" Rooster taunted through the comms. "Is that all you've got?"

Hangman gritted his teeth, his hands gripping the controls, knuckles white. He was pushing his jet to the limit, narrowly avoiding Rooster's ‘fire’ as the alarm from the targeting system filled his cockpit.

The turn in the valley afforded Hangman the opportunity for some leeway to move out of the way. Barely.

"Come on! You're flying like a rookie today!" Rooster taunted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Thinking about what you did to Liz?"

Hangman's jaw tightened, and he forced himself to focus on the controls. "This isn't the time, Rooster," he snapped, but the cocky twang had lost its touch.

Rooster just laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "Oh, I think it's the perfect time. You need a reminder of what a colossal fuck-up you were."

"I know what I did," Hangman growled, banking hard to the right to avoid Rooster's aggressive maneuvers. The asshole was gaining on him, even with how carefree he seemed to be with his taunts.

"Still thinking about Liz?" Rooster's voice was a sneer, crackling through his headset, and Hangman could hear the satisfaction. "Maybe that's why you're losing."

"Focus on the fight," Hangman snapped, anger boiling in his chest.

"Oh, I am," Rooster replied, his voice crackling through the headset and dripping with contempt.

The mountainsides and the green of the trees were a blur as Hangman and Rooster approached the end of the valley. Hangman could hear his heartbeat against the sound of his own breath in his oxygen mask.

Rooster didn't need to say the obvious aloud. Hangman was thinking about you. He couldn't shake the image of your face from that night.

Broken. Sad. Devastated.

He wanted to close his eyes, get lost in the moments when he would awake in your bed, finding you next to him. In your touch. In your voice.

When he hadn't fucked it up.

But he couldn't.

He rolled the F-18 over once he was clear of the mountains and the flight pattern, finally able to use open space to retaliate and flip around. There was only a few seconds left in their time limit.

If Rooster wanted a dogfight, he'd given him a dogfight while he still could.

"Where are you? Where are you?" he drawled aloud. He kept his eyes on the sky, searching for any indication Rooster was nearby as the seconds ticked away. But he was nowhere to be found.

"Time!"

Hangman didn't trust Rooster would listen to Maverick's call. He'd even go as far as to admit the man was almost like him, dead set on proving a point when it mattered. At least Hangman could demonstrate some restraint.

Sure enough, Rooster's voice echoed as his plane came into view. Swinging up and hanging upset down from directly under him.

Inverted.

"Forget to look below?"

Hangman finally had enough.

"Want me to take one out of your book?!" he yelled, staring up through the glass, never once taking his eyes off Rooster as he jolted the stick to the side, rotating the plane over in time with Roosters.

Into a damn spiral dive. A fucking corkscrew.

Rooster grunted with the effort of withstanding the Gs on his body. Hangman was no different, bracing hard as he fought against the controls. Neither one listened to Mav shouting over the airway or the different tone alerts signalling information.

"You think this proves something?" Hangman's voice was cold and ruthless even though he gritted his teeth. "Break off now, and maybe you won't embarrass yourself."

"Embarrass myself?" Rooster spat back. "Like you did with Liz?"

His response was automatic, like reading a script he had long since memorized. "Life is hard, Rooster. It's cruel and unforgiving. You can either whine about it, or you can face it head-on. You think you're going to prove something, kid, by keeping me here?!"

"Watch me!" 

The world faded out. Nothing mattered but the two pilots, locking in that spin, seemingly staring each other down. 

Yet, Hangman was completely unaware he was running out of space. The Terrain! Terrain! Pull Up! Pull Up! was background noise on muffled ears, as were Maverick's increasing shouts for the pair to stop and break away. 

He was too caught up in everything to care. Rooster would have to break away first. He wouldn't give out.

He wouldn't let him win. 

But then a voice, soft and delicate despite the alarms, shouts and struggles of the Jet's engine broke through the haze.

Jake.

It was a blast of bright light like the sun suddenly blinded the corner of his eyes. For whatever spoke to him, it had been as close as he had ever been to hitting beyond the hard deck. He finally pulled up on the control stick, saving himself just in time and avoiding hitting Rooster. 

His breath was harsh, anger on the edge of boiling over as he levelled the jet. And when he finally returned to the correct altitude, Hangman ripped the oxygen mask from his face, fighting the urge to hit something, as Rooster's chuckles filled the air.

"Hangman! Rooster! Get back to base. Now!"

---

"Do the two of you want to get kicked out?! How could you be so stupid!?"

Nat's question was rhetorical. Hangman and Rooster were stupid. It was so deeply entrenched into their entire being she knew she was wasting her breath by even pointing it out.

A reminder didn't hurt, though.

She had her eyes set on Hangman, but Rooster wasn't very off, sliding his way over to the blonde pilot who had only just started his post-flight checks after getting his jet back into the hanger.

He was deadset on ignoring her, not once glancing her way as she stomped toward him.

“What will Liz say when she finds out how reckless the two of you were?!”

His reaction made her pause; his hands froze from where they were adjusting a valve. Had she turned away, she wouldn't have caught the grimace on his face - however slight or brief it made have been.

“Oh, you didn’t hear what he did?” Rooster called out, smirking from his perch, leaning against a nearby table and crossing his elbows. He may have promised not to gloat around you, but the squad was fair game.

"Liz even slapped him for it too."

Confusion, shock, and pure anger crossed her face in the three seconds she took to glare at Jake. Heat laced her voice as she asked, "What the fuck did you do?"

Liz would never, she thought, only if she had to.

Jake bowed his head, slamming the panel of the jet closed with a hard bang. He turned, gritting his jaw and standing straight, ignoring Nat’s heated question. Rooster chuckled from the side, uncrossing his arms to stride forward.

“Oh, he did exactly what we expected him to,” he filled the silence. “He hurt Liz and left her out to dry, saying she and Sadie were nothing but a bit of fun to pass the time. And when she confronted him about it, he went right for the kill, not concerned about who he would hurt in the process.”

The rest of the Squad was nearby when they heard Rooster’s words, awaiting the fall out of that aerial display. They gathered around the pair, faces twisting with disdain as a dangerous silence befell the room, each looking from Rooster to Jake, reflecting varying degrees of disbelief, shock and, more predominantly, anger.

Jake's eyes were dark, his face tight with suppressed emotion. For a moment, it looked like he might lash out, defend himself, try to explain. But he didn’t. No one would believe him anyway.

"Damn you, Hangman," Phoenix whispered, her voice breaking. "We trusted you."

The room seemed to deflate as the truth sank in. Bob, who had been silent until now, let out a long breath, his face pale. He couldn’t help but think of Sadie. She would be devastated.

“So did Liz,” Rooster smirked, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing Jake.

Jake's eyes narrowed, his voice cold and defensive. "You think you know everything, don't you, Rooster? You abandoned her when she needed you most. For what? To prove a point? Now you’re acting all righteous?”

Something hard flashed in Rooster’s eyes. “At least I owned up to my mistake and apologized. I never pretended to be something I wasn’t! I never fucked around with her heart!”

Jake let out a condescending laugh. “You think she came running to you because she trusts you? She couldn’t even tell you she was seeing me. What does that say about you? She doesn't trust you as much as you think.”

Rooster grinned. “If that were true, she wouldn’t have come to me in that aftermath. After all, she asked me to drive her home,” he said mockingly. “We even went together to break the news to Sadie.”

Jake clenched his fist at the mention of Sadie, charging forward to ready a punch to Bradley’s smug ass face. But Bradley didn’t move, still smiling as Jake stared him down last minute as the Dagger’s jumped to Bradley’s defence.

Jake’s guilt over you and Sadie wouldn’t let him follow through on that punch. Bradley was sure of it. Even with the rest of the daggers looming around, he knew Jake would still be seeking your approval, even if you would never give it to him again.

How disturbing would it be for him to know little less than three weeks ago, Bradley had been at the end of the team's disapproval as they backed Jake.

The tables had turned. Nobody would stand behind him after what he did to Liz now.

The two were locked in an intense stare-down, Jake more rattled than he let on and Bradley unnerving calm. It wasn’t until there was a slamming of a door echoing from somewhere in the hangar did the Squad suddenly walk away from the feuding pair, not wanting to be caught in the crosshairs, already on their phones to message Liz. the only one who had stayed was Nat, wondering how she could have ever thought Hangman was capable of change.

“Rooster! Hangman! My office!” Maverick's voice boomed from somewhere within the empty hanger.

When neither moved or peeled their eyes away from the other, Mav’s voice rang out again, this time enough to rattle off the hollow steel walls, making Nat jolt from the force of it.

“Now!”

---

As a team, the Daggers celebrated everything. Maverick labelled it moral support and team-building. Jake realized long ago it was just his way of getting all the pilots out of the hangers to experience life. Not that he ever complained.

After the lashing he got earlier, it was surprising that he and Rooster were still invited. It was clear as day nobody wanted him here.

It was the second anniversary of the Urianum mission. The official anniversary of the creation of the squad. Jake missed the last one, so he wasn't sure what to expect. A beach party. A game of dogfight football. A bonfire.

Jake couldn’t care less what was going on. You and Sadie would have been here with him had he not snapped.

Somewhere down the line, everything had become blurred. The day he had been dubbed “Hangman” - they said he was surgical, precise, unfeeling - the perfect pilot.

It gave him purpose and confirmation. He’d even make the stretch to say acceptance. He embedded it. Cause nothing else mattered. It worked the facade. It kept people at a distance and shielded him from judgment and expectations.

But now? Things were different. You, Sadie… the two of you got under his skin.

Would you, would have anyone, listened to the truth after the fact? That he only agreed with George to throw it back in his face? To cockily stand up and remark that he was better off than he had been in years?

Then you heard him. Heard him agree with George and assume so readily it had all been a game. You had never believed he was everything his callsign represented.

You were hurt. Angry. And those words he uttered proved every word you had probably been told about him, words you had ignored. It stung, the words you had yelled back at him. You had given him a chance before, so why didn’t you have faith in him then?

The facade returned. He opened his mouth, and his father and George came out instead. Hangman came out instead.

He had sworn so long ago he would never become like them. Yet here he was, inflicting the same trauma and patterns onto you. He had proved he was just as capable of the same cruelty and manipulation his father was.

You would never forgive him after that. It’s what he did best.

The only person who seemed to stand being around him right now was Javy, but he had left to get another drink, leaving Jake alone next to their bonfire, missing you.

You would have been in his arms, lying up against his chest. The pair of you staring out to the water, watching Sadie hunt for sea shells like she hunted for bugs. He would have stolen a kiss or two, unashamed of the PDA, maybe even purposely putting on a show to intentionally piss off the squad and make you blush.

The two of you would have laughed at Sadie. Maybe he would have been tempted to get up, grab her, and topple the both of them into the water. Rooster didn't need to remind him of what he lost when the absence of both of you was staring him in the face.

"You hurt my aunt."

Well... he was half right.

"You're going to get the both of us in trouble," Jake called out, not bothering to look up from the sand. He knew she'd come for him sooner than later, no matter your wishes. With all your threats to Bradley about revoking his Sadie privileges, Jake never would have thought he’d be receiving those threats too.

Sadie stepped onto the tree log behind him, spreading her arms wide to balance herself before jumping, landing softly on the ground.

"Since when have I done anything I'm supposed to," she argued heatedly.

It took her every ounce of strength not to lay into him like she wanted. She was desperately holding herself back. Because this was extremely different than Uncle Roo hurting her Aunt's feelings.

Hangman messed with her Aunt's heart.

This one was on her.

"Who did you escape to get over here?” Jake still couldn’t bring himself to look at her, reaching over to grab a stick in the sand.

“Aunt Nat. She thinks I’m with Uncle Bob.”

You picked up a shift today where Aunt Penny was working with you. So when the offer to stay with Amelia or sit around at the Hard Deck for most of the afternoon, Sadie opted to join you.

Little did you know she had other ideas. When Aunt Nat came by to steal her away, to join the others with the promise she'd keep her away from Hangman, Sadie saw the perfect opportunity.

Aunt Nat didn't know her tricks as well as she thought. A mad and angry Sadie was a conniving Sadie.

Jake said nothing, choosing to poke the sand with the stick in his hand before adding to the fire.

Sadie knew he was stalling, making small talk to avoid talking about what he did. She had played that card enough to know when it was being thrown back at her.

But he was the grown-up. He shouldn't be pulling childish tricks. He should be the one who should be telling her all the grown-up excuses for why things just sometimes don't work out or, worst case, it was for the better.

Nothing was ever for the better.

She sat down on the opposite end of the log, reasonably close to Jake. She dug her nails into the bare skin of her thigh. She wasn't going to speak first. She had promised him so long along she'd come for him. He should know better than to expect she was here for anything else.

Yet, the words he finally uttered had her reeling.

"I don't know what the right thing is to say, Bug."

The thin sheet of ice Sadie holding her back cracked at the mention of her beloved nickname. He shouldn't be calling her that; he didn't deserve to call her that. Not after what he did. Not after what he said.

For one of the first times in her life, Sadie saw red.

She quickly reached down to grab a handful of sand, only to toss the tiny grains in his direction. Jake ducked, shielding his face with his arms. Sadie leaped up and tackled his exposed side, hands balling into fists. She didn't know what she was thinking or her ultimate goal by coming here and seeking him out. It was such a good idea at the time.

When it came down to being face-to-face with him, she was at a loss for words. Her obvious hurt overshadowed any sassy remark or comeback she could gather.

"Sadie! Hey, stop!" Jake's shouts of her name did nothing to stop her from pounding her tiny fists on his back. “Stop!”

"You don't get to call me Bug!" she hollered through her sobs, still trying to leave a mark, thumps on his back accompanying her cries. "You lost that right!"

She knew you wouldn't want her doing this. Her mom wouldn't want her to do this either. But sometimes, it was just too much for her to handle.

She didn't know how to react to something like this. The world was making her grow up faster than she wanted to. Now, she couldn't help but think about what it would throw at her next.

Jake slid off the log, twisting to kneel in front of Sadie while holding out his arms to protect his face. He was at eye level with her, finally seeing the damage he had wrought on the ten-year-old girl.

Sea blue-green eyes framed by shimmering tears, pooling at the edge, until Jake watched one linger down her cheek. It’s your favourite colour staring back at him, making everything worse.

"Why did you do it?!" she cried, still trying to hit him, arms loosening their strength by the second. "Why did you say it?"

"Sadie, stop!" his voice was starkly quiet compared to the sobs, both fragile and profound, catching in her throat. Still, Sadie wailed, "I trusted you! You were supposed to be her person! You made her happy! You reminded her she was worth it!"

With each remark Sadie threw at him, he couldn’t bring himself to stop her tiny punches. Or say anything this time that could calm her cries. It was so starkly different from the night he found her hiding in her bed because of that thunderstorm. She had been the one to jump into his arms, to seek comfort from him.

This time, he was the reason she was crying. Like that night, he wanted to tell her it would be alright.

He couldn't. In losing you, he had lost Sadie too.

Utterly weak, Sadie's final thump on his shoulder resulted in her gripping onto his shirt as she fell to her knees on the sand, face blotchy and patch-stained red.

"Why Uncle Jake?" her voice was small. Devastated. "Why did you have to hurt her like that?"

He tried not to look shocked. Sadie's voice was sudden, so unsteady and innocent-like, it was hard not to hide any reaction. She caught on instantly.

"Don't act so surprised," she snapped at him through her misery. "You know she tells me everything."

Jake felt the sharp glare of Sadie’s eyes on him, her small face always displaying a type of sternness that was way beyond her years. She was demanding answers, as horrible as they were.

He couldn’t avoid this conversation. You were… you had taught Sadie to be honest and, in her doing so, to expect honesty in return. He didn’t know how to be. How could he explain this?

He didn’t know where to start.

He wasn't going to say anything. Sadie knew that. Adults would rather hide their emotions and not speak about things. She pushed herself away from him, the little force she exerted rocking Jake’s body back, readying herself to get up and leave.

This had been a bad decision, after all.

“Did anyone tell you why they call me Hangman?”

Jake’s words made her stop, making her fall back into the sand, kneeling before him.

“It’s your call sign,” she said innocently. Jake frowned, biting his lip. “Did they tell you the story?”

Sadie copied the look on his face, thinking about it before admitting, “A little. I know you left someone behind.”

It sounded worse coming from the mouth of a child.

Jake sighed, rubbing his temple. “Yes… but there’s a little more to it than just that.” He couldn’t look her in the eye as he managed to form the words, “My father… he was a tough man. A lot behind the meaning of that call sign has to do with him. He left … scars. Sometimes, they make me act in ways I don’t mean to.”

Sadie’s eyes softened a little, but she still looked confused. “So that’s why you said those things? Hurt her?”

Jake looked down to the sand in shame, nodding once. “When I’m stressed, the anger… the frustration... It brings back memories. It’s easier to put a mask up… lash out. Even when it’s the wrong thing to do.”

"So apologize," she sniffed, shrugging. "Uncle Roo did."

"It's not that simple, Sadie."

She eyed him hard. "Yes, it is."

Her tone left no room for a reply. Who was he to refute the honesty of a ten-year-old who had seen more shit than anyone her age?

"I know you're hurting too," she said, her voice small and trembling. "But hurting others won't help, Uncle Jake.”

A sad smile crossed his lips. "I don't know what the right answer is, Sadie."

Sadie looked at the fire, watching the flames dance. She didn’t know the correct answer either. Adults would rather hide their emotions and not speak about things than admit they were wrong. But he had to try, right? Cause if he didn’t at all, it would only make it worse.

Maybe she could nudge him one last time.

"Do you still have the note I gave you when you helped me with my math homework last year?"

Jake stared at her momentarily before reaching into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet, and opening it to find the ripped piece of paper. He had kept it tucked away in the back pouch, even after all this time. Her writing was slightly smudged on account of her using a pencil, but he could still make out her words along the top.

I believe in you.

"I didn't randomly invite you to that Saturday Night," she started to say, watching him stare down at the piece of paper. "I invited you because you looked sad when you thought nobody could see you."

Sadie paused her words, searching his face for any hint of emotion, before she continued. "Because you needed to know people care."

"Your Aunt said something similar to my brother," he said, not looking up from the piece of paper. "That the only reason she allowed me to come that night was because you reminded her of something your mom believed in."

"Of course she did," she said simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "She loves you."

Jake's hand clenched on his thigh involuntarily, his eyes turning away from the fire to the water. Growing up without love, without hearing those words, Jake was left wondering if he was deserving of such a remark.

How could he be anything else when all he ever did was self-impose an executioner’s noose around his neck, hanging himself with his own fear and self-doubt, always cutting himself off from what he craved most.

Hangman, indeed.

But Sadie wasn’t done - not by a longshot. Even with her tears, perhaps a touch quieter now, she managed a soft smile, telling him, “You taught me it’s okay to mess up, you know.”

Jake looked at her, puzzled. “I did?”

Sadie nodded, taking in a deep breath. “When you helped me with my math homework. I was struggling, messing up horribly. I wanted to quit. And nobody seemed to listen to me trying to understand till you came along.”

Jake was trying to see where she was going with this. Math and messing up a relationship were two entirely different things.

“But I was messing up because I was trying. And trying means the possibility of someday getting it right. I was so scared to mess up, but then you sat with me, listened, and made me realize it was even scarier not to try at all.”

“What does this have to do with …?” he trailed off, Sadie glaring at him as his voice died down. “You messed up, Uncle Jake. Bad. But that wasn’t the worst thing you could do to hurt her,” she stated, taking another deep breath. “It would be if you stopped trying to be better. Stopped trying altogether.”

Sadie thought about what Jake just told her about his family. Then she thought about everything that had happened over the last few weeks, the question she had once asked you about, the one that had plagued her until you made her recognize the truth.

"You're not your father, Uncle Jake. You're you.”

Jake couldn’t help the tears, as treacherous as they were, from pooling in his eyes as he lowered his head. He felt a tightness in his chest, a mixture of gratitude and pain, before he grimaced stiffly, huffing out, "It's a pretty messed up world we live in.”

Sadie didn't hesitate when she replied, "I'm almost eleven, Uncle Jake. I don't understand the world at all." Her bottom lip started to tremble, her eyes watering as she let out a sniffle. "But I know you never know when you'll say I love you for the last time."

Jake knew she was referring to her mom, her sudden death that night. But her words hit Jake differently. He recalled the moment he stood on Penny's porch and decided he'd try to take his chance with you.

You were still his possibility of someday. That had never changed. Like he thought then, time was something he was never promised. It was time spent well in the weeks he lived with you and Sadie. Small moments meaning the world, whether it was staying up to play a game with Sadie or waking up to see you sprawled out across his chest.

They were moments he thought he'd never have. Now that he had them, he was left wondering if he should spare you the heartbreak that came with loving someone like him.

Sadie's admission, and words of advice, were more damning than she knew.

He looked up from the sand to peer hesitantly at her face, not surprised to find another remark about to pass her lips.

"If you can't say you're sorry, my Aunt and I don't need to add somebody else to the list of people who've hurt us. So if you want to leave, go ahead but stay away," Sadie remarked, hiccuping as fresh tears streaming down her face.

Every word Sadie uttered hit deeper than any shitty remark his father or brother could throw back in his face. The façade he built, in the face of every slight to his character, was no match for a ten-year-old who had the ability to see through everyone's bullshit, including his.

He couldn't manage a reply. She had given him blows no physical assault could ever imagine reaching.

Sadie saw Jake's silence as a chance to leave. Aunt Nat wouldn't be gone for much longer, and she knew if she weren't with Uncle Bob soon, she'd cause a panic. She got up, rubbing the dirt from her hands, standing over the conflicted aviator with a face marred by sand dust and tears.

Sadie stepped forward to leave. But at the last second, she whipped around in a move that reminded him so much of you. Her voice was firm, scathing even, adding with a note of finality, “I won't be the one to stop you from leaving. And I won’t be the one to welcome you back either if you change your mind. If you're gone, stay gone. We can survive without you."

After shooting him a hateful glare, Sadie left Jake sitting in the sand, staring after her. She wiped her eyes as she ran, finding Bob sitting at the nearby bonfire with the rest of the team. He pulled her into his arms with a laugh, instantly handing over his marshmallow-topped stick with a smile as Sadie giggled, her sadness disappearing as she roasted Bob on the quality of his marshmallow.

Jake threw his head back to the sky, still kneeling in the sand, fighting the knot in his throat.

Damn, George.

Damn, his father.

Damn, Bradley.

Damn, you.

And in some ways, despite not wanting to admit it…

Damn, Sadie.

He didn't know how to make this right. But he wanted to. He had to.

That had to be enough.

Right?

.... Ouch, Jake... And OUCH, SADIE!

Tags:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

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@keyrani @craftytrashprincess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @abzidabzy @memeorydotcom @vicsnook @taestrwbrry

-Wickett ;)

Part 17 - Come a little bit Closer coming soon.

#Spotify #Jake Seresin #hangman fanfiction #horseshoegirlwrites #damn those dog tags fic #damn those dog tags #dtdt #top gun au #top gun #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #hangman top gun #top gun fic #top gun hangman #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #hangman fic #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #hangman x oc #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you #hangman seresin #hangman au

[julianalvarez9]

named after you / john stones

author's note: my mind hasn't stopped thinking about that damn interview where john speaks about bernardo's dog named after him so i had to write this. started as a blurb, ended as a full fic + socmed au. i hate myself.

wc: 1.5k words.

pairing: john stones x footballer!reader (doesn't really impact much of the story, except she's injured).

face claim: esme morgan 💌

contains: excessive use of pet names, roasting jack grealish just because (i love you jack), they're in love but they don't know it, mentions of injury and a foot cast but nothing too detailed (because i don't know shit about injuries)

summary: your best friend is dumbfounded to learn that you've never had a dog, not even as a kid. he goes above and beyond to change that when the circumstances ask for a way to cheer you up.

"you've never had a dog before?".

john can't believe his ears. but to be fair, everyone at the little studio set where you're filming the next video for city's youtube channel is as incredulous as he is. you just laugh at his reaction, before explaining. "well, i wanted one when i was a kid, but my parents said i was too small to have one. and then i just never asked again".

his brows just keep on furrowing, and it's like he had forgotten about the stack of cards he had in hand, with the 20 questions he was supposed to ask you for the video prepared by the team. "yeah, but you're what? 24 now? you could have a dog," he said, like it was obvious. to be fair, he was right. after all, you lived alone: no partner, no kids, no family in the country. having a little pet to take care of and love would make you happy, but you weren't sure if you would have the time to take care of a little dog now, with how packed your schedule is. maybe that's why you hadn't really thought about getting a furry friend. "i suppose. didn't think about it before," you shrug.

"fine. i'm getting you a dog".

it's been months since that interaction, and you haven't thought about john's promise since. the video went live on the team's youtube channel a few weeks after, and as expected, everyone loved it. the friendship you had with the city player was always cherished by the fans, and you couldn't really blame them. he was your best friend since you arrived in the club, and having his support from the beginning really made the adaptation period easier.

you realized how much you basked in his affection and care when you suffered a season-ending injury. it wasn't that hard, to be honest, but since the end of the season was less than a month away, you knew that the recovery period would be longer than what it took to get you back on the pitch in time for the last game. john has been there from the first moment, sending you a message as soon as he saw you went down on the grass. you only saw it after the medical exams were done, when the doctors had already told you that you probably wouldn't get to play again until next season.

facing the reality about you not being there for your teammates, not being able to help them in any way, shape or form, at least where it mattered to you -in the pitch-, was rough. you went from the training center for recovery to home, all day, every day, never getting quite far from the prefabricated route: your only focus was to get healthy again. you weren't even seeing john that often, with his schedule being as overwhelming as always and you don’t even daring to set a foot in the etihad if you weren't there to play.

but john, your good best friend john, knew exactly what to do to cheer you up.

“are you home?”.

the call alone was weird. john wasn’t one to talk much on the phone, and much less, while driving. if he wasn’t using free hands, you’ll kill him. “why are you calling me while driving, stones?”.

“asked you a question first. answer, little one”.

the nickname alone made you roll your eyes, and he swore he could picture your annoyed face in his mind. the joke had been running between you two ever since you two meet, really, not only because of the slight age gap, but also, due to how he towered over you. wasn’t rocket science, it was what his position on the field demanded, while you, as a striker, only had to be quick. “yeah, dad, i’m home”.

“whoa, what an attitude. i’m about to get home, so you better fix it”.

you couldn't even process him calling your place home, or protest against him coming without a longer notice -not a 2 second warning, like this one, because he had already hung up before you could even mutter a confused “what?”.

if looks could kill, you’d be charged with a murder.

you’re glaring at john’s car from the second it sets a wheel into your front yard. he’s quick in parking the car and stepping out of it, but instead of going to greet you, standing on the doorway with your arms crossed, he goes to open his rear door.

“what are you doing?” you ask, almost screaming, to ensure that he hears even if he’s quite far from you. john appears to be arranging something on the back of the car, but he smiles when answering your question. “go inside. wait on the sofa. eyes closed”.

you’re about to make a funny comment, except his smile goes away the second you take too long to fulfill his wishes. you decide to quit being difficult and, with a bit of difficulty due to the cast shoe you have in your feet, make your way to the couch. your eyes remain open, though, watching the match your team was playing on the tv. once you heard the door closing, you shut your eyes.

“do you have your hands ready?”.

you frown, but still, your arms are extended with your palms up per john’s request. soon, you’re opening up your eyes when you feel a warm ball of fur placed on your hands.

“john, did you get me a dog?”.

you almost have tears in your eyes when you place the little jack russell on your lap, and it curls into a ball, falling asleep almost instantly. “isn’t he the prettiest boy ever?” john coos, squatting so he can get a good look at the little dog you’re holding. “john, i can’t have a dog. i’m never at home,” you rationalize once the initial emotion has settled in. you start to think about your schedule, how you’re seemingly always away. the worry must have painted on your face, because the man in front of you notices it, and is quick to find your hand, previously resting on the little canine, to squeeze reassuringly.

“yes, you can. you’re home now, aren’t you?” he smiles, and you’re rolling your eyes, again, for what feels like the hundredth time today. “he’s gonna help with your recovery. but you don’t have to worry about him being alone here once you’re back: our schedules don't always match. when you can't have him, i'll take care of him". the way he’s looking at you now, with his fluffy hair and sweet smile is making you melt almost as much as the sight of the little puppy resting on your legs. 

long seconds pass before any of you say anything, too focused on your little friend, before you realize john hasn’t told you how he’s called. “what’s his name?” you ask, and he looks up at you before shaking his head. “doesn’t have one. it’s up to you”. the smile you have on your face after hearing him speak, has your best friend thinking that you’re up to no good. and he’s proven right when you open your mouth again. 

"i'm naming him after you".

his eyebrows furrow and he’s shaking his head again, clear discontent in his face now. "what? you can't. i won't allow you to," he opposes in a high pitched tone, and you laugh before answering. "why not? he's my dog,” you point out, and the puppy on your lap suddenly wakes up, probably awakened by the small argument held between both of you. you direct your hand to caress his little head, and he rewards you by licking your palm, almost like a little kiss. “i think he likes it. don't you, johnny boy?".

he has to straighten up so you don’t see the smallest pink rose to his cheeks when hearing you say johnny boy. he always told you he despised the nickname, which was why you had stopped using it, but instead, he lied because he liked hearing you say it.

"but why john?" he presses, again, hoping that, maybe, it’ll make you change your mind. he knows it's wishful thinking: after being friends with you for so long, john is aware that when an idea pops into your pretty brain, it’s almost impossible to shake it off. "first, you're the one that got him,” you list off, and it has him rolling his eyes. you think it’s funny how the roles are reversed, and the smallest giggle escapes your list before continuing with your explanation. “second, he's a jack russell".

"and? you could name him after jack," he says, and he’s hopeful when the doubt is planted on your face. it takes you a few seconds before you’re shaking your head, scrunching up your nose in disagreement. "nah, he can't jump that high”. you’ve switched your focus now, from person-john to dog-john, and your voice gets a little higher when speaking to him. “when you grow up you'll jump as high as your daddy here, won't you, pretty boy?".

john feels like he could faint by the amount of pet names that seem to flow effortlessly from your lips. "okay that's enough," he says, and you laugh at how agitated he is. "it's settled then. john stones, meet john stones".

yourusername

Liked by johnstonesofficial, jackgrealish and others.

yourusername everyone, meet john stones

View all comments.

jackgrealish glad to see he's into football like his daddy 😂 johnstonesofficial

yourusername such a talented little boy 🤍

johnstonesofficial john stones jr*

yourusername so you're john stones sr?

rubendias 🧓🏻🧓🏻

mancity bring him to training next time! 💙

yourusername will do 🤝🏻

#football imagines #football imagine #football x you #football x reader #john stones imagine #john stones x reader #john stones instagram au #john stones social media au #john stones x you #john stones fluff

[gigidragonbbxxx]

a personal struggle + an education

this is all just gigi's opinions + thoughts

Reader, I'm struggling with empathy right now.

Don't worry, I'm not suffering from a personality pathology, I promise I am quite sympathetic and empathetic. It's just battling the feeling of wanting to be kind but also seeing a major problem and knowing I need to get it off my chest.

Let me give it to yall straight (with tweaked/paraphrased details to protect privacy and not to out anyone):

I saw a favorite loass coach/twt account/subliminal creator make fun of an "old timey" English sentence either from Neville Goddard or Edward Art. They proceeded to say that they "hate" it and "why can't they just say it simpler". and then someone else commented "they're talking bullshit fr".

The convo thread on twt devolved into an echo chamber that essentially boiled down to the old fool's adage "If I don't understand it, it must be stupid and not worth it."

This really triggered me because

The phrase quoted was not that hard to understand.

It was clear these women were not educated

Why am I judging or mad at people for their ignorance? (this is why I kept quiet on twt and went here to vent. I acknowledge that two things can be true, I can be kind and still be honest.)

I was and currently am still wrestling with these things within me.

On one hand I don't want to judge. I want to be inclusive and welcoming and supportive.

On the other hand - yall don't look educated, yall wind up looking dumb.

I'll say a harsh truth yall and you can go argue with a damn wall but I know I'm right: stupidity is not cute.

My Hot Take (not so hot when you think about it)

The Law of Assumption rewards those who feed their mind with knowledge

Before you argue with me, think about it. Seriously.

I don't want to seem ableist if someone suffers from dyslexia or if someone struggles in school. It's totally okay to have different paths to learning. The importance is still obtaining the information. You can read or listen to the audiobook, etc. The paths to knowledge are varied but in the end the result is the same - THE KNOWING.

The "old timey" sentence that the creator complained about COULD BE READ BY NINTH GRADERS BECAUSE OF SHAKESPEARE EXPOSURE.

That's why I was exasperated. They were complaining about English (the only language in which they are fluent) that is regularly taught to 14 year olds.

Guys. Stand up. Please stand the fuck up.

Who in this world is gonna take you seriously without BASIC COMPETENCY in literature or math?

Lemme roast some of yall if you want to disagree:

Yall wanna be master manifesters and claim to understand the double slit experiment but can't even name the fundamental laws of science or explain them.

Yall wanna be successful in your businesses and don't know how to calculate your profits.

Yall wanna be seen as intellectuals who "understand" more than the majority of the population and yall can't even fucking read Descartes or Shakespeare.

Yall wanna be content creators and don't know how to proofread.

One time I bought an affirmation tape that came with a pdf with all the affirmations listed. The tape itself was excellent but the pdf was riddled with errors! It makes me sad because something that can help change your life, like a sleep tape to saturate, "cheapens" in its authenticity at the price of minor errors. Sigh.

Let me tell you that 100% you can be successful in this world just by going to the end and claiming it.

BUT YOU LOSE A LOT OF TREASURE BY NOT GIVING YOURSELF THE TOOLS TO DIG FOR IT.

THERE IS SO MUCH FOUNDATIONAL INFORMATION WITHIN THESE "OLD TIMEY" TEXTS.

and if you don't like any of it and just wanna watch sammy ingram and manifest like that THEN GO AHEAD BUT DONT CLAIM TO NOT UNDERSTAND A SENTENCE AND THEN CALL IT BULLSHIT.

just be honest and own it!

be honest that you don't wanna read, that you don't wanna be academic and that's 100% okay and you're still beautiful and worth everything but

do not put down the value of what is being said just because you don't understand it

That's why I am frustrated, reader.

I am educated enough to recognize when someone's ignorance is just that - ignorance.

But I am human enough to be annoyed.

So please give yourselves some grace and take the time to appreciate knowledge. Without the knowledge of the law of assumption, we wouldn't all be here interacting with one another.

xx, gigi

p.s. for those of you who are more familiar with reading the Bible via the law of assumption lens - I beg you to think of Solomon. He was asked by God what he would like and Solomon chose wisdom over material things. Why is that? Because through wisdom comes the ability to know how to obtain all one's desires. Food for thought.

#gigiwrites #loassblog #law of assumption #loass #loassumption #manifestation #affirm and persist #affirmations #neville goddard #self concept #manifesting #edward art #master manifestor #law of assumption blog #robotic affirming #subliminal #subliminals #knowledge #wisdom #intelligence #learning #learn #fulfillment

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Could you do a human soldier reader x a wounded and "dishonored" Marauder protecting him? Like a Marauder too wounded to defend himself gets saved by a human soldier that got separated from their troop, and is trying to stay sane in hell. Saw a Marauder, and went "Ah, demon I can talk to" and takes the guy out of desperate loneliness

"Well this day just keeps getting worse..how did I even get to this point?" You mumbled to yourself, standing before a tall decrepit church with an upside-down cross affixed at the top.

It was hard to fathom how you got into Hell itself.

One moment, you're playing cards with your troop, laughing and cracking jokes..

And the next, you're hopelessly alone in this infernal landscape with very little ammo and very little chances of survival.

This is definitely not what you signed up for when you joined the UAC. You wanted humanity to thrive, but didn't really agree with all the experiments and such the organization did to bolster its continued existence--especially when you knew damn well they let billions of people die already and didn't care.

Fortunately, your UAC division had some sane people and wasn't just full of cultists.

But unfortunately, one of them was not your commander--who thought that taking the fight to Hell itself like the Doomslayer did would somehow intimidate the demons and convince them to stop invading Earth.

He had always been a fanatic about him, ignoring your remarks that unlike him you were just ordinary people without the godlike powers that helped the Slayer survive. He believed rage alone enabled him to persevere, and he expected your troop to go in with that same mindset.

But if anything, your commander simply sent you to die and become new additions to the demonic army.

The moment your troop stepped out of the portal, you were ambushed on all sides by various demons. It's like they knew humans were coming.

So you did the only sensible thing and fled.

Unfortunately, nobody else thought the same, and before you knew it..

You were all alone.

You weren't sure how many hours or days have passed since, but somehow you're still alive, living off roasted meat from some deceased giant demonic beast.

Communicating with the other side was out of the question, given your radio broke and there's no WiFi service in Hell...so your cellphone was useless.

Curiously enough, there was ammo littered around the realm--probably left behind by soldiers who weren't as lucky as you--but none could replenish your rifle. There's only a single bullet left in the chamber.

You had a knife and grenades, but what if those weren't enough to protect you?

What if you accidentally pissed off one of those Titans you'd often see roaming in the distance?

Your knife will be like a little prick to them before they crush you flat.

Shaking your head, you decided not to think about the dozens of ways you could possibly die here, and tried to remain optimistic. You weren't even that scared anymore.

If anything, you felt....lonely.

You were so used to being around your squad, as well as all the interns at the UAC, but now that it's just you and your thoughts...how could you cope with that?

You certainly couldn't just talk to any demon here. They'd murder you on sight...and probably wouldn't understand what you were saying, anyways.

You sighed and proceeded into the church, hoping that nothing was lurking inside. All you wanted to do was rest your feet for a moment and see if you could make this place into some hideout.

Yet upon stepping through the doors, you were surprised to find not a single demon, but rather the remains of many.

Fresh blood and guts caked the walls, and dismembered limbs and skulls were scattered around--some frozen, others charred like burnt marshmallows.

It looked as though the Slayer himself charged through here, guns blazing-

'Wait...that's right..only the Slayer could have caused a massacre like this..' You realized, a feeling of hope fluttering in your chest for the first time in what seems like forever.

If you were correct, then he must've passed through here recently, which means he could still be somewhere in Hell..

He might be able to help you!

Meeting him would be a great honor. While many talked about him like he was some god or the living manifestation of humanity's rage, you simply saw him as just...a man that Hell pissed off one too many times.

'Damn, my commander would've been so jealous...I wonder if I could get his autogra-'

Suddenly, an ethereal howl startled you out of your thoughts, and you spun around in alarm, rifle trained on....

An orange wolf?

You blinked in bewilderment as it stared at you, realizing it was merely a ghostly image. But you weren't sure if it was some demonic entity ready to attack you, or if you were just hallucinating.

"Um...good dog..?" You didn't know what to say, although judging from how its ears perked up, you knew for a fact it was real.

The wolf spirit turned tail and began walking towards the front of the church. You were compelled to follow it.

But upon seeing what it led you to, you froze in fear.

It stood by the side of a wounded Marauder.

You've heard about them before: they were once Sentinels who were converted into demons after betraying their oaths to their people and fighting for the Maykrs. It's even said that they were previously allies to the Slayer himself...so they were nearly just as powerful as him.

Yet this one was just slumped against the wall, looking utterly defeated, covered in blood with a chunk of his flesh torn out, exposing the ribcage.

He still had fight in him, though, as upon seeing you he became alert. With a snarl, he reached for the shotgun attached to his leg. And you tensed up, stepping back to aim your rifle in case you had to return fire.

However he suddenly grunted in pain and stopped, allowing the shotgun to clatter to the floor as he clutched his bloodied arm. It's useless. I've already...lost..." He rasped, exhausted.

You blinked in surprise, partially because you forgot some demons can speak your language, and also because he was actually giving up.

"Y-You're..not gonna try to take my soul?" You carefully began, not wanting to provoke him in any way.

"I never asked for this life. I only thought...I was fighting for the wrong side, and so I betrayed my king, my brothers...myself." The Marauder lamented. "Now I am nothing."

Honest to god, you weren't sure what more to say to him in this moment. But he still seemed remorseful and hated being a demon, so...he had a little bit of humanity left.

You held just a smidgen of sympathy for him.

"You, come closer." He abruptly demanded. "Now."

Hesitantly, you stepped a few feet closer to him. "Why-?"

Your eyes widened as he suddenly grabbed the barrel of your rifle, holding the muzzle against his forehead as he sat before you, on his knees.

"Woah wait, wait....what are you-?!"

"I've led a life of dishonor and shame...and that turned me into this abomination." His large hands trembled. "Let me die with what little dignity I have left, human. You only have to pull the trigger."

You could only stare down at him, shocked by his request. But you just shook your head. "I-I can't do that. I'm on my last bullet."

"It shall be one well-spent. Please end this suffering...don't leave me to the Slayer's judgement." He begged.

You blinked. "He attacked you?"

"He desecrated me." In case you didn't believe him for whatever reason, he ripped off his face mask, exposing the rest of his skull and broken teeth. "And then he left with some urgency..but I fear he will return to finish the job, and if not, then I will surely be punished for my failure."

Yet despite his pleas for a merciful death, you hesitated, trying to pull your weapon away.

You weren't sure why, but despite him being a demon, the idea of him willing to die by your hand just made you extremely uncomfortable. He could crush your gun and rip you apart with his bare hands easily, and still he refused to.

"Well..my judgement says it's wrong to murder someone who's defenseless..."

"Wrong?" He repeated incredulously, glowing eyes becoming wider. "We've slaughtered billions of your people...I thought you'd rejoice at this opportunity for vengeance."

"I....listen. Let go for a second."

"Why?"

"Just...trust me. Please let go." You firmly commanded.

When the Marauder released his grip from your weapon, he watched you take a step back. Thinking you were going to finally execute him for his crimes against humankind, he closed his eyes and bowed his head, hoping that he'll never be resurrected again.

Wherever he went had to be so much better than this..

You loaded your last bullet into your rifle, aimed strategically...and fired.

But he felt no pain whatsoever.

There was a small explosion, and he snapped his eyes open just in time to see a Lost Soul shattering to pieces. One of its horns fell into your hand, and you examined it, finding it perfectly intact.

"Sweet." You chuckled, pocketing your little souvenir with pride, before looking back at the Marauder..who seemed shocked.

"You told me that was your last bullet."

"Yep, but now I have a reason why I can't kill you. I'm all out of ammo." You shrugged. "Sorry."

"......."

"What? That flaming skull would've killed me had I shot you first! It's not like I asked for it to be there in that exact moment..what do you call those, anyways?"

"A Lost Soul. Damned remnants of mortals who seek a final death." He explained bitterly.

"...oh, well...I'm glad I gave them some peace." You chuckled, although you fell silent as he scowled.

"Yet you'd deny me that same release?" He scoffed. "Why is that? Pity?"

"No, I just..I guess I was...lonely."

"..lonely?"

Sighing, you took a moment to set down your rifle, before reaching up to remove your helmet, inhaling the air.

Just as you expected...it was hot, humid, sticky, and reeked of death all around. You were already starting to sweat a little. But you resisted the urge to gag, instead putting it down on one of the seats.

The Marauder was surprised that you willingly showed your true face to him, although he was still unsure of your intentions.

"Look, I've been stranded here for god knows how long..and every other demon I met has tried killing me. And they can't talk. None except for you, of course." You kneeled down in front of him. "Call it pathetic but..I'm just glad to talk to someone."

"You took a great risk in approaching me, human." He huffed, leaning back against the wall. "If not for my wounds...this could have ended differently..and even still, I could easily-"

"I know, but I don't think you really wanted to. Otherwise, your little wolf spirit would've eaten me alive already."

He was silent for a moment, looking to the ghostly apparition beside him. "My Hellhound...did not attack?"

"Nope. It just led me straight to you. I thought it was a trap at first, but...it must've known you needed help-"

"Help? Granting me an honorable death would have been more than enough "help", but you're too soft to even do that.." The Marauder scorned you. "Just leave me be. Don't waste your breath..I am beyond salvation. Go home."

"That's the only problem...I can't. I'll die before I could even figure out a plan to get back home." You shook your head. "For now I just wanna rest, and since you're here..maybe I can patch you up. O-Or at least uh..patch whatever I can."

He blinked at your offer. "You..would do that for me? What would your leaders think of you aiding a demon?"

"....to be honest? I don't give a shit what they think anymore. They probably think I'm dead."

"I see..very well then.." Sighing, he put his mask back on and gazed at you for a few moments. "If you heal my wounds, I will give you protection until you find a way out of this accursed place..or until the Slayer finds me. I fear I cannot protect you from him."

"Yeah, same. I'm not sure if I can convince him to spare a demon's life, but I'll do my best to hide you." You awkwardly smiled.

He hummed in agreement, before he picked himself off the ground and gathered his weapons.

You grabbed your rifle and donned your helmet once again, breathing in the fresh oxygen your suit pumped out. "Ah, much better...no offense. But the air quality here is sh-"

"None taken, human." The Marauder looked to you. "I can still stand, but not fight...at least for right now. I do know some places the Slayer would not care to look."

"Alright, then..lead the way. I'm trusting you."

He quietly chuckled at the idea of a human trusting a demon so easily.

But he was still a solider with a built-in code of honor.

If his enemy spared him, then he'd have to spare them, too.

#marauder brainrot is real #even tho these jerks keep killing me on nightmare mode- #clanask #anonymous #doom x reader #doom eternal x reader #doom marauder x reader #marauder x reader #demon x reader #soldier reader #platonic

[amatchinwater]

Our Little Devil | Steddie x fem!reader (established poly)

Summary: you've always wanted to try a cnc scene with your boyfriends, Steve and Eddie. At a Halloween party, painstakingly turned on by their costumes, they decide to offer. How the hell are you gonna say no to that?

Warnings: 18+!!! Dark content! Explicit sexual content, CNC (consensual non-consent, no means nothing here, anything but the safe word will not stop them), predator/prey kink, knife kink (mentions of cutting, but only clothes are cut, no skin), slapping (face and ass), choking, decryphilia, spitting, oral (m and f receiving), face/throat fucking, spit roasting, anal fingering (f receiving), anal sex (f receiving), p in v sex, double penetration, unprotected sex, biting, bruises, scraped knees, stoplight system, degradation (whore, slut), orgasm delay (threat of denial), multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, creampie, use of "yellow" safe word, aftercare (IT'S 👏IM👏POR👏TANT), Daddy Kink, Master Kink (play to Eddie being dungeon master), underage drinking, mask kink (if you squint), mean!steddie, dom!steddie, sub(ish)reader, soft!steddie, minor injury (scraped knees and a too hard bite)

Words: 6895

a/n: I cannot stress this enough, heed the fucking warnings. Please. I cannot stop your consumption of this fic, but you were thoroughly warned. Requested by the wonderful @e0509 you're a sweetheart to talk to and thank you so much for coming to me with this, I had so much fun with it!

Requests are open, Steve included! Master list

Not my gif! Credit to creator!!

Growing up, Halloween was always your favorite holiday. A chance to dress up as whatever you wanted. To be someone else for a time. Granted, being at a party at some dude’s house you don’t even know the name of, wasn’t exactly on your list of things you’d like to be doing tonight. Yet, here you are. You’d much rather be curled up with Eddie and Steve binging horror movies at any of your places. That sounds like a much better night than this. 

Though it isn’t all bad. 

The punch is mixed well enough that after your first cup, your anxieties about being here have all but melted away. And your boyfriends. Good god, your boyfriends. Eddie decided to go as Freddy Kreuger this year; your favorite horror villain. Steve is dressed as his counterpart; Jason. While you went a little more simple, a skin tight, sparkly red dress with horns and a tail. If anyone wants to make a dig at Eddie being a satan worshiper, you’re right there as the devil herself to prove that there is, in fact, one devil Eddie gives his full attention to. 

You can’t even begin to deny the way that the two of them being dressed up is making you feel. Steve’s mask only comes up when he’s taking a drink of something or to wink at you from across the house. And fucking hell if that damned mask isn’t doing things to you. Or the clawed glove on Eddie’s hand as he covertly slides a bag to another teenager, accepting the money in return. Usually, you’re pretty good about containing yourself in public. Blame it on the drink coursing through your system if you want to, but you want your boys. 

Bad.

Standing off near the bottom of the staircase nursing your second drink of the night, your eyes scan the crowd until you find one of them. Eddie only left you to sell some drugs to a boy dressed as a zombie because you were directly in Steve’s line of sight from the kitchen. Finding him certainly didn’t help the growing ache between your legs. He pulls the mask up to rest on the top of his head, opening a bottle of water and downing the contents. Your eyes get hazy and hooded as you watch his throat bob with his swallows. 

The little trickle of liquid that slides out of the corner of his mouth, trailing down his chin only makes matters worse. Then the fucker grins to himself, licking off what he can, fingers catching the rest before licking them clean. It’s like he knows you can see him and is putting on a show for you. Watching Steve has you in such a trance that you don’t even notice your other boyfriend coming back over to you. 

“Tell me something, little devil,” Eddie’s voice in your ear startles you, sloshing your drink, nearly spilling it. His clawed hand wraps around your waist, keeping you grounded, his thumb stroking an apology onto your side for scaring you. “Are you just going to fuck him with your eyes all night?” 

“N-no,” you stammer out, having been caught. Not even a little surprised that if anyone was going to notice you drooling over Steve that it’d be Eddie. 

“No?” Eddie asks in disbelief, giving an offhand hum that you’re not quite sure of its meaning. Then he whistles, loud enough to be heard over the music and Steve’s eyes snap in your direction, eyebrows pinching together, mouthing what. Eddie beckons him over with one finger. You don’t need to see Eddie’s face to know he’s grinning wickedly.

You can only watch as Steve makes his way through the sea of bodies in the living room that connects the kitchen to where you and Eddie are. When he reaches you, Steve leans over to give Eddie a quick kiss, the three of you long since stopped caring about what other people thought of your relationship. “Hey there, gorgeous,” he murmurs before his lips claim yours as well. Thinking you’d get off with a short one like Eddie is proven wrong when he presses into your back, belt digging into your ass, pushing your chest into Steve and you whine into the kiss. “Oh,” he pulls back with a snicker, “is our pretty girl horny already?”

Already meaning that you simply couldn’t help yourself and jumped their bones before you’d even left for the party. Your mouth opens, ready to lie through your teeth.

“She totally is,” Eddie answers for you, “couldn’t keep her eyes off you.” Punctuating each word with a tap up your spine.

“That so?” Steve asks, hands gripping your hips, a moan escaping your lips as your heavy eyes flutter. Cooing, “aww, baby,” he leans into you, pushing you against Eddie even more, “want us to help you with that, princess?”

“We’re a-at a party,” you say, not too keen on someone you don’t know walking in on the three of you like that. And again, you don’t even know the person that lives here, finding some room in their house to fuck doesn’t really sound appealing. You’d much rather do this at home. Or the van. Anywhere but this house, honestly. 

Eddie’s free hand comes up to your throat, forcing eye contact with Steve, and he licks the shell of your ear, whispering, “we can leave right now.” They’re many things, but making you uncomfortable isn’t one of them. Everything they do to you is with your explicit consent, even after being together all this time. “Just say the word and your villains will whisk you away,” the grip on your throat tightens. 

You’ve done a few roleplaying scenarios before and the idea of them playing into their costumes causes your pussy to throb, clenching around nothing, arousal soaking into your thin panties. Your breath hitches in your throat at the way Eddie growls in your ear and Steve’s eyes darken with lust. 

“Wanna be our victim, little devil?” Steve asks, his fingers digging into your hips enough to bruise. “Let us do whatever we want?” 

Eyes glazed over with need, you nod. 

“Being our victim might be a little too much for her, Harrington,” Eddie chuckles darkly behind you. “I don’t think she can handle us at our worst. Doing whatever we want,” he grinds his hips into your ass, “no matter what she says otherwise. Taking what we want, where we want, how we want.” His words punctuated with a nip behind your ear. You know for a fact that isn’t true, that it’s just for show. That if you said your safe word, they would stop immediately. Without question. 

So you huff indignantly at the clear challenge from Eddie, seeing if you’re truly ready, “I’m not made of glass, you know.” You’d been the one to bring up consensual non-consent in the past, just never had a chance to try it out. Eddie proudly laughs behind you. 

They’re silent for a moment, clearly having some conversation you’re not meant to be a part of. Your only indication is a few twists of Steve’s face, a nod or two, and a flick of his eyes past you both. Then Eddie nods, chin hitting your shoulder, saying, “oh yeah,” in agreement to whatever they’d voicelessly discussed. 

“Wanna prove it?” Steve’s gaze falls back to you, stroking your sides, leaving it entirely up to you. Hoping they’re meaning what your mind is thinking, that you can finally play this out, you nod once more. 

Eddie falls away from you, walking the small space to the front door before opening it, “run away, little devil,” he says, picking up Steve’s nickname. “Let us catch you and have our way with you?” 

Thankfully, everyone in the house seems too drunk or into what they’re doing to notice, because you certainly don’t need to be asked twice. You give Steve a quick kiss to the cheek, smiling at you with heart eyes. Bouncing over to do the same for Eddie, whispering, “thank you,” before you take off into the night. Running down the driveway full of cars and stragglers from the party, across the street and into the woods with a smile on your face. Grateful that you chose to wear your red Doc Martens instead of heels, so that you can actually run and not hobble. 

Your dress on the other hand, isn’t making it all that easy, painfully digging into your thighs as you bound blindly in the dark. Your eyes have mostly adjusted to the nighttime, but still, you come a little too close to tripping over roots more times than you’d like, your horns tumbling off your head in your haste. But the adrenaline pumping through your veins is totally worth it as you narrowly avoid a bush blending in the scenery. When your lungs start to burn is when you finally start to hear them. The hasty steps of Eddie and Steve chasing after you. 

Steve, being an athlete, doesn’t even sound winded when he calls out, “come on, princess, you’ve gotta put more effort into it than that. Eddie’s gonna catch you!” 

True enough, when you glance over your shoulder, Eddie’s only a few paces behind you, make-up wiped off his face. Teeth pulling off the clawed glove on his hand; hat either flown away or left at the party. His proximity is enough to light a fire under your ass, his hand reaching for you only to tear off the velcroed devil tail from your dress, even more so. Gone is your sweet, soft Eddie with dimpled smiles and firm yet gentle caresses. The only kindness left is swimming somewhere in the glint of his darkened eyes as he winks at you. 

You’re so fucking turned on, it hurts. The rubbing of your thighs as you flee only makes it all the more intense. Scrounging up every last bit of stamina you might have, you push harder, your chunky shoes clomping into the dirt and leaves, Snapping twigs loudly, gasps of air heaving into your aching lungs. And then you’re falling with a yelp, crashing into the ground with a warm body laughing at your back. Your knee drags against a rock concealed by leaves, the sting burning enough for you to think it broke skin. 

A thought you quickly lose care for when you’re flipped around onto your back, looking up at a triumphant Eddie. Toothy grin and grabbing hands. One finding purchase to pin your hands over your head, the other reaching into his pants, pulling out his pocket knife. 

“E-Eddie?” You lock up, eyes widening as he flicks the blade out, eyes roaming your body. “Eddie,” you repeat, more sternly this time, using his actual name so he knows you’re being serious. 

His eyes flick up to your face, softening just a touch, “don’t worry, sweet thing. Master’s not gonna hurt ya. Unless you want me to,” Eddie places a soft, reassuring kiss on your lips, checking in, “what’s your color, baby?” This might have been your idea, but that doesn’t mean they won’t make sure you’re still into it. It’s one of the many things you love about them. They know how to be harsh when you want it, but perfectly sweet because you’re theirs and this should be fun above all else. A play on non-con or not, they will always check in.

Watching the blade tease at the hem of your dress, you take a breath to clear your head, remind yourself that just because you’ll be saying no and fighting them, that it’s been consented to. It’s what safe words are for. “Green,” you confirm, nodding your head for good measure. 

One simple color is all it takes for the proverbial mask to come back on, brown eyes hardening and with a simple flick of Eddie’s wrist, he slices the fabric of your dress. Cutting a sizable slit up to your hip. Making no means to stop, he brings the blade under the thin lace of your panties.

“No,” you struggle under his grip, Steve catching up in a leisurely stroll. Clearly he was willing to give Eddie first dibs on catching you. “N-no, please,” you whimper, trying to shy away from the sharp edge. A little serious, these are actually really expensive and both of their favorites, you’d like them to remain intact. 

“Keep her fucking still, would you?” Eddie grunts from your struggles. 

Steve quickly takes hold of your wrists, making a kiss at you. “Aww, she looks a little scared,” he mocks at your pinched brows.

Eddie presses his arm down on your hips, keeping you still as he slices the sides of your panties, yanking the scraps out from under you. “There, that’s much better,” he growls, rushing up to your face while you continue your struggle in Steve’s hold. “What to do with you now,” Eddie seems to talk to himself, dragging the dull edge of the blade along your exposed thigh. 

Finally, you realize the mistake they’d made. They gave no care to trapping your legs. You’ll absolutely regret it later, but the way a twig is digging into your back only reminds you that you’d rather not do this on the forest floor. So, why not play the not-so-helpless victim instead? Pretending to buck your hips like you want him off, you let Eddie trail his free hand down to your exposed pussy, eyes fluttering at the delicate way he brushes your clit. Knowing that it will do more to your impatience to tease you than to just go right for it. 

It’s almost enough to make you forget your goal. Swiftly, your knee comes up, connecting right with Eddie’s balls.

“Fuck!” Eddie groans, knife falling in the dirt as he falls off you, clutching his crotch. 

The surprise of your action loosened Steve’s grasp enough for you to break free. Scrambling up from the ground, you take off, dashing through the trees at a breakneck speed. You barely hear Steve’s laugh before muttering, “I’ll get her,” and footsteps hastily follow after you. 

A cabin comes into view a moment later and you race towards it. You might have been a little put out by it, but the cutting of your dress and loss of your underwear has made it exceptionally easier to run. Managing only just not to trip up the dead, wooden steps of the porch, you breathe a sigh of relief, crashing through the unlocked front door, slamming it behind you. You didn’t want to look to see how close Steve was, sure that it was your downfall with Eddie. 

Inside is musty and stale. Abandoned long enough that it’s dirty, but not so long that animals have taken up residency here. Your steps thud along the floorboard, gripping the wall, you round the corner into the hallway just as the front door bursts open. 

“Princess,” Steve’s voice stern and full of warning, “you know he’s not going to appreciate that. Running longer is only going to get you into more trouble.” Steve has always been the softer of the two in times like this. But not now, when all bets are off, are you going to be fooled by his words of caution. “You should let me find you before he does,” he continues, sounding like he’s getting farther away despite his shouting. 

Using it to your advantage, you carefully open the last door on the left, hoping it doesn’t squeak. It doesn’t. Mouthing a prayer in thanks, you quietly shut it behind you, but when your hand encloses around the closet door knob, the one to the bedroom opens with a flourish. 

“Found you,” Steve whispers, a devilish grin on his face, mask fallen off his head, “nowhere to hide now. You should probably start thinking of ways to apologize to him when he gets here,” he stalks towards where you’re frozen on the spot. Complete deer in the headlights when he closes the distance, hand wrapping around your throat as he pins you to the small door of the closet. “Don’t worry,” he yanks you to his chest, “promise I’ll make you feel good until he gets here.” 

Catching up with yourself, you bring your hand to his throat, trying to pry yourself free, “let go,” you growl, thrashing your legs. 

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Steve kicks your legs apart, “I know your tricks now. So why don’t you just stand still like a good, little whore and Daddy won’t have to hurt you, okay?” 

“Bite me,” you croak from the thumb digging into your pulse, constricting your airflow. 

“Wrong choice of words,” he grunts, hand moving to fist in the back of your hair, dragging you towards the bed. All but throwing you on top, you get no chance to scramble away, both hands grabbing your ankles, yanking you to the edge of the bed. Steve drops to his knees, kissing up your calf to the meaty part of your thigh where he harshly digs his teeth in, making you cry out in pain. 

Trying to push his head away only earns you another bite, higher up, his breath ghosting over your pussy. “Daddy, please,” you whine, finding it hard to pretend you don’t want this when your walls clench, needing to be filled. “No. Please, please, stop. Daddy, not here,” you groan, trying to push his head away when his eyes lock on your arousal dripping down your folds. 

Steve doesn’t listen, nor care for your pleas, mouth latching onto your cunt. Warm tongue and breath making you see stars. He moans into your pussy, lapping up the wetness he’d caused, bringing you closer to the orgasm you so desperately need. Loud footsteps echo the small cabin and Steve chuckles against you. 

“Where’s my sweet thing, huh? I hope you remember your safeword, sweetheart, ‘cause Master’s pissed,” Eddie calls out, stomping around until he finds you, “absolutely not. She doesn’t deserve to come after that stunt she pulled." Steve chuckles darkly, halting his movements and leaving you cold on the bed. Eddie brings him into a bruising kiss, pretending like you're not even there. Meanwhile all you can do is stare dumbly at their tongues sliding together to remember you have a chance to run away again. "She does taste delicious though," he groans, pulling away from Steve. 

“She’s all yours, babe,” Steve waves his arm towards you, “got her all nice and ready for you.” 

Cupping his chin, Eddie coos, “aren’t you thoughtful, Stevie. ‘Cause I’m gonna make sure she doesn’t pull some shit like that again.” Your eyes bulge, unsure of what’s about to happen, anticipation burning through your nerves. “You always said you’d let me give you a tattoo, darling,” Eddie stills hasn’t looked your way, rather admiring his pocket knife. “How about I carve mine and Steve’s initials into you instead? That way,” he rushes the space, face hoovering an inch above yours, “you never forget who you belong to. Color?”

“I-I-” your lip trembles, you thought you’d only have to feel bad about what you’d done to him later on. Or with a violent throat fuck. But this…this is different and you’re not entirely sure if you like it. “Y-yellow,” you whisper, eyes burning with tears, too scared to move. 

Eddie’s face instantly softens, features relaxing until his brown eyes resemble a puppy dog once more. “What is it, angel?” He asks, rubbing soothing lines on your side with his free hand. Steve’s immediately at your other side, brushing the top of your head. “Talk to me, sweetheart.” When your mouth doesn’t form words, merely flicking your gaze back at the blade in his hand, Eddie seems to understand. “Too much fear for the first time?” You nod, tears spilling from your eyes at the action. “Say no more,” Eddie tosses the knife away, its sharp tip sinkin into the wooden wall. 

“Do you want to stop,” Steve’s voice is gentle. The fact that mid-scene they’re both willing to listen to your wariness and ask if you’re wanting to end it all swells your heart. 

“No,” you shake your head, wiggling until Eddie’s hips align with yours, “I-I’m okay now, promise. Maybe you can do that next time, Master,” you say rather than calling him by name. Wanting them to know you’re more than wanting to continue. 

“Princess-”

“Daddy, I’m okay,” you turn your head to face Steve with a small smile. “All green here.” Aside from your knees stinging a bit from your earlier fall, with the blade out of sight, you’re more than ready to pick up where you left off. Your boys are more than willing to comply.

Eddie slaps your face before grabbing your chin harshly. Fingers pinching into your cheeks, forcing your gaze back to him, “good sluts don’t interrupt their Daddy when they’re trying to talk. You should know better than that by now,” he snarls, “open or I’ll do it for you.” You open your mouth as much as his firm grip will allow and Eddie spits onto your tongue, “swallow it.” 

Pinching your eyebrows, you do as told. You love when he does that, but for their sake- maybe yours too- you don’t want to give in just yet. Play off that you hate it and struggle under his weight. 

“She still owes you an apology,” Steve notes, “can’t keep doing stuff for her.”

With a cheshire grin, “you’re absolutely right,” Eddie drops your face, curling his hand in the back of your hair and yanking you up onto your knees. You hiss at the sting, thighs getting slicker from the rough treatment. “Get on all fours. Now.” Scrambling to do so, wincing through the pain, waiting to be told what to do, but they both just watch you. 

“Master-”

That earns you a hard crack to your left ass cheek from Steve, “pretty sure whores don’t speak unless they’re spoken to.” It’s meant to punish you, but all it does is make your cunt all the more wet, thighs dripping with your arousal. Eddie scoffs around a grin, unbuckling his pants and dropping them along with his boxers, down to his ankles. “You’re going to suck his dick until he feels you’re forgiven, understand?” You nod, staring at Eddie’s bulbous head, an angry red and already leaking precum. Steve’s hand fists your hair, jerking your head back, holding your exposed throat, “answer me.” 

“I understand, Daddy,” you grunt and he releases you, shoving your head towards Eddie’s cock. Licking your lips, you open your mouth inching closer, only to be stopped again. This time by Eddie’s ringed hand. 

“And if you so much as think about coming with my cock in your throat, like I know you will,” Eddie bends down to be eye level with you, “you won’t come for the rest of the night.” You whimper at the thought, whispering your understanding to him. “I know it’ll be hard for such a needy thing like you, you just can’t help but come for Master’s cock.” Steve snickers behind you, now sitting against the headboard. “She loves your cock too, Harrington,” Eddie rolls his eyes, “don’t you, slut?” 

“Yes, Master,” you say eagerly, the façade of not wanting this waning the longer he keeps his dick from you. You’re almost certain he’s doing it on purpose. Like he’s trying to get you to break and beg for it. You’re about ready to.

“Good,” Eddie stands tall, gripping his cock, dragging it along your lips until they fall pliant to him to push inside. “Because he’s going to fuck your pretty ass while you choke on my cock, ‘kay?” It’s rhetorical, you know that, even if his dick wasn’t hitting the back of your throat and making our eyes roll back. You nod anyway, muffled groans around his length, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth. When he starts to thrust, you fight the gag, but it happens anyway, Steve’s hands lifting the tatters of your dress. “Take it like the whore you are. Come on,” Eddie fucks into your mouth faster, harder, letting the room fill with his moans and the sounds of you slurping and gagging. 

A muffled cry of surprise vibrates his shaft when Steve’s slick finger rubs at your puckering hole. “Oh, Eddie,” Steve moans, “she’s still open from before,” and he easily slips a second alongside the first. “Go ahead and clench around me, princess,” Steve laughs sarcastically at you, spitting on your ass, “it’s not gonna do you much good.” With that he scissors his fingers, pumping them and twisting to loosen you for a third. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Eddie moans, pushing your head down on his cock as you desperately try to hold your breath. And to not come as tears burst from your eyes. Because you’re dripping by now, moaning around Eddie’s cock and pushing back onto Steve’s fingers. It’s bliss. The adrenaline from being chased through the woods is still tickling at the back of your head, bleeding into an over aroused state and you want to fall apart. 

“Taking it so well. Such a perfect slut. I love it,” Eddie moans again, moving back only to thrust in just as hard. Your orgasm buzzes just beneath the surface, pussy clenching on nothing under his praise. 

“She’s gonna come if you keep that up,” Steve warns, removing his fingers. You hear him spit, then squelching sounds as he lubes himself up. “Think she’s earned it?” He asks, talking about you like you’re not here to answer for yourself. His dick prods at your ass, teasing you, “whaddya say, babe? Shove our cocks in her and see if she comes? Or have you not forgiven her yet?” 

Finally looking down at you, his cock half in your mouth and mascara running down your cheeks from your tears, Eddie smiles. Wiping the mess, barely, with a gentle hand, Eddie pulls out of your mouth and you gasp for air. “Are you sorry, baby?” 

“Yes,” you rasp, throat angered from its misuse. “I’m so sorry, Master. I-I won’t do it again, I’m sorry.” 

“I know you are, baby,” he grabs your chin, kissing you despite the mess. “Just because I teach you these things, doesn’t mean you use them on me.” Eddie’s teasing tone sends a flurry of wings in your stomach. “I’m very proud of you for learning. But you best not use that knee on me again or it won’t be pretty for you. You got it?” 

“Yes, Master.” 

“Good girl,” he pats your cheek lightly. “If you come from this, you won’t need to ask permission tonight, okay?” You’re lit up like a goddamn christmas tree. Wound so tightly that a simple finger pressing on your clit would make you explode. Eddie rubs his cock at your swollen, slick mouth, mimicking Steve at your ass. Licking the dribble of precum from the slit, you nod. “Open nice and wide, baby,” Eddie instructs. 

Steve presses a hand in the middle of your back, bowing it and you stick your tongue out. As promised, both of their cocks slam into you at once. Albeit, Steve being a little more gentle than Eddie, because literally tearing your ass apart isn’t going to be fun for anybody. It makes no difference to your pussy though, with a muffled scream, you come. Limbs shaking where they try to hold you up on the mattress, your boys setting a brutal pace. Not even remotely willing, or wanting, to gentle you through it. 

Just as your second orgasm begins to warm inside you, Eddie yanks out, “fuck, I’m gonna come if you keep moaning on my cock like that.” You whine, tears sliding down your face again from the tingling sensation subsiding. 

“Aww,” Steve grips your hips tightly, skin slapping against yours, “I think she was gonna come again.” He slaps your ass, reaching down to toy with your swollen, throbbing clit. “That right, princess?” Steve leans down to whisper in your ear, “was Daddy buried in your tight little ass with Master fucking your mouth gonna make you come again? Such a good whore,” he coos as your whimpering nod. 

Tapping your tongue with the head of his cock, Eddie loses himself in watching it slide in and out of your mouth. The way your lips stretch and pull, quiver when you moan from Steve’s efforts. “Look at that,” he moans, your tongue swiping along the bottom of his shaft. “Go ahead, be our perfect slut and come again.” 

“Come here,” Steve says, reaching out for Eddie. The way he leans over forces his cock all the way down your throat, face pressing against his stomach. Muffled grunts echo and you wish to all the gods that you could watch them making out right now. The thought alone and Steve still pressing firm circles at your clit throws you face first into your orgasm. 

Suddenly, Eddie hastily pulls himself out of you, leaving you with heaving breaths and a following trail of saliva. “If I’m coming anywhere, it’s her pussy. Lay down,” he commands. 

Steve pulls out without hesitation, laying back on the bed, propping himself on the headboard and pulling you on top of him. Seating you right back on his cock with a joined groan. Knowing what’s coming, you lay into him, spreading your legs for Eddie. “Look at her,” Steve grunts in your ear, hands coming up to palm your breasts through your dress. “Spreading her legs like a whore. You just can’t wait to have both of our cocks stuffing you full, can you?” 

“You two make such a pretty sight though” Eddie remarks, crawling on the bed towards the two of you. “Too bad I can’t be inside you both.” Straddling his legs around Steve’s, Eddie slides inside of you in one swift thrust and you cry out from being so incredibly full. But it’s so fucking good. Throwing his head back in a moan at the way you suck him in, clenching around him so he can’t escape. “God, you two,” he groans, leaning down to kiss away the last of your brain cells, before offering the same to Steve. 

“Speak for yourself,” Steve moans, bucking his hips up into you and you yelp a moan. 

“Shit,” you gasp, unsure when another orgasm was building, but having one anyway. Shaking through it, you cling to Eddie’s arms, nails biting into his skin. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you ramble, moaning incoherent sounds, Steve circling your clit again. You feel light and fuzzy, out of it but right in the trenches. Exactly where you want to be. “Daddy, Master, fuck, I-”

“Would you shut her up?” Eddie growls, thrusting into you with abandon, your pussy fluttering around him. Aching and burning, but ready to give more should they ask. 

Steve’s hand comes up and clamps over your mouth as he bites at your neck. Biting pretty marks along your skin; his favorite thing to do. Eddie’s hands grip your thighs, leaving his own bruises. Your favorite reminder that you’re theirs. 

“You’re going to come again,” Steve tells you, his thrusts growing sloppy along with Eddie’s who nips at your calf. “Then we’re gonna fill these perfect holes.”

You’re barely here. Having let go to the sensations of your body and your boys. Screaming through your moans under his hard hand, nodding wildly as more tears spill from your eyes. It’s Steve who finishes first. With a particularly hard bite to the juncture of your neck, he spills himself deep inside your ass. The continued thrusts and lewd sounds do it for you and your entire body shakes, trembling through the shocks of your orgasm. Gushing around Eddie’s cock as he shoots his load in your fluttering cunt. 

The moment Eddie’s head falls to your shoulder, resting against Steve’s, the hand around your mouth falls. Allowing you to attempt to catch your breath. You try your best, you really do, but you’re so fuzzy and they’re still inside you that you’re gasping in lungfuls of air that isn’t doing much. Nerves on fire and in sensory overload.

“Princess?” Steve checks in, carefully pulling out of you alongside Eddie. The simultaneous movement shoots right down your spine, oversensitive, you whine and moan. But it lets you take a proper breath. Shaky at best, but enough oxygen gets pulled into your lungs.

“Sweetheart?” Eddie tries, laying on his side for Steve to pull you between the two of them. Their arms wrapping around you, peppering kisses along your face and shoulders. “You okay, baby?” 

Your breaths slow to a much more normal speed, but everything has left your body. Fluids. Energy. Brain function. Your eyes couldn’t open even if you wanted them too. You’re boneless and more than a little exhausted. You offer a weak nod, muttering, “tired.” 

“My trailer isn’t too far from here actually,” Eddie says, “think you can get her there while I get the van?” 

“I can’t figure out how to get there from here,” Steve rebukes. “I don’t know the woods that well. Can’t you just leave your van overnight?” 

“No, not with how much shit is in there. I don’t want to leave her either,” Eddie says. “If we get the van now, we won’t have to leave her later on or drag her out of the house to get it.” Steve grunts behind you, nodding his head. “I’ll take her home, you go get the van.” Steve makes another noise you barely pay attention to, the jingling of keys floating in your ears. “Okay, great. Come on, baby,” Eddie gets up from the bed, hooking his arms under you, pausing, “give her your shirt.”

“What?”

Eddie groans, “you’re not coming with us. I’m sure you sprayed your shirt before we all left, yes? Exactly. So give her your shirt. One, she’ll be more covered while I carry her and two, it’ll smell like you. Might ease the fact that you’re not there.” 

“Fair point,” Steve notes. There’s rustling and then his soft voice in your ear, “come here, princess.” Steve helps you into his shirt, the material falling past your ass, covering you enough as their cum starts to leak out of you. He leans his forehead against yours, “I’ll be as fast as I can, okay?” 

“Okay,” you croak, vocal cords strained from the sounds you’d made and Eddie’s dick. “Love you,” you murmur. 

“I love you too, sweet girl,” Steve tenderly kisses your lips. “I’m so proud of you, baby, so proud.” 

Then he’s gone and Eddie’s scooping you up into his arms. “I promise, sweetheart, we’ll wait to get in the bath until he gets home, okay? I know you need him too.” 

“But,” you start, clearing your throat, feeling floaty as you lightly tug a lock of his hair, “love you too, Eds.” 

Eddie breathes a chuckle in your hair, kissing it softly, “I know, sweetheart. And I love you. Let’s get you home,” he says, carrying you through the house. 

You fall asleep in his arms before he’s made it three steps into the woods. 

“Princess?” You hear Steve call some time later, his warm hand rubbing your cheek. “Still too tired for that bath?” 

“I tried to wake her up,” Eddie tells him, running his hand along your arm, “but she kept mumbling your name in her sleep. I wiped her down with a towel though to get the worst of it.” 

“Thank you,” you grumble, half awake. Your limbs feel like cooked pasta and your mouth is sandpaper dry, smacking your lips as you try to speak again, “bath-” but all you do is croak. 

“I’m not gonna make you leave her again,” Eddie kisses your shoulder before carefully getting out of bed. “I’ll get her a drink, you take her to get the bath going?” 

Squinting your eyes open in the dim room from the light of the hallway, you reach out for Steve, who happily picks you up bridal style. “Thanks,” he says, Eddie smiling in response, kissing him.

“‘Course,” Eddie smiles, kissing him once more for good measure, rubbing the top of your head before placing a soft kiss on your nose. “Want a snack too? I can make you a sandwich or something, if you want.” 

Your stomach answers for you, wildly growling, making our boys snicker at you. Fighting a giggle, you say, “please.” Closing your eyes and resting your head in the crook of Steve’s neck, “missed you,” you sigh, holding as tight as your weak limbs allow. 

“I missed you too, princess,” Steve carries you out of the room, balancing you so that he can get the water running. “What’ll it be tonight? Peppermint and sage or,” he draws out the word, setting you on the toilet seat, “Lavender and honey?” 

“Lavender,” you groan, already feeling like you can smell it, feel it seeping its way into your tired muscles. Steve kisses the top of your head before pouring a generous amount of soap into the tub, your squinted eyes watch bubbles rise with the steamy water. 

You hum to yourself as Steve undresses down to his boxers. “Arms up, baby,” he pulls at the hem of his shirt, bringing it over your head. “Damn,” he mutters, fumbling with the straps of your dress that’s sticking to you like a second skin. “Want me to just tear it off? It’s already halfway there.” 

Looking down at your dirty, tattered dress, you huff, “yeah, go ahead. It was meant to just be for tonight anyway.” Tearing the fabric, the dress slides off your skin.

While you both wait for Eddie, Steve takes in the small scrapes on your knees and tenderly kisses them, “you okay?” He asks, trailing his kisses up to the constellation of bruises his teeth and Eddie’s hands left on your thighs. Steve takes extra care of the one he bit harshly, small specks of dried blood where his teeth sunk in.

“I’m okay, Daddy,” you sigh into his contact, letting him take care of you. You’re not ashamed to call him that out of scene. It’s a comfort to you and you know it is to him as well. That someone thinks he’s worthy enough of the moniker, that he’s nothing like his own father. You’d call Eddie that too, but watching his reaction to being called Master is just too good to pass up. “Just wanna relax with you and go back to sleep.” 

Eddie comes into the bathroom, balancing a paper plate with two sandwiches, one hanging out of his mouth, and a bottle of peroxide and water in his other hand. Passing the plate to Steve, he shovels the rest of his food into his mouth, swallowing thickly. “Sorry, sweetheart, but this is probably gonna sting,” he says, reaching in the medicine cabinet for some cotton balls. Steve distracts you by feeding you some of your sandwich and giving you a sip of water. “I’m sorry I tackled you so hard,” Eddie’s big, brown eyes meet yours.

“‘S okay, I liked it,” you offer a tired smile, chewing your food, happy to just be with your boys. You’ll take bruises and scuff marks for a night like tonight any day of the week. Taking advantage of your own giddy distraction of squeezing his muscles while mumbling, “my strong boys,” kind of deliriously, Eddie rubs the peroxide into your knees to clean the wounds and the one bite on your thigh that broke skin. The sting doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the actual scuffing of your knees had. 

By the time Steve shuts the water off, your wounds are properly disinfected, sandwiches devoured, and the water bottle drained. Toeing out of his boxers, Steve gets in the tub, arms open and waiting for you. Eddie lifts you up, placing you in his lap while he takes his clothes off, careful sitting across from you. You groan at the warmth of the water, sighing in relief at the instant feeling of relaxation. 

“You did so good for us tonight, princess,” Steve whispers softly in your ear, warm hands massaging your shoulders. 

“We couldn’t be more proud of you if we tried,” Eddie agrees, fingers digging into the soles of your sore feet. “Promise we weren’t too rough with you?” He asks, moving his massage up to your calves and you groan, legs twitching and you hit the side of the tub. “Sorry, baby,” he snickers, “I know it’s not as big as Harrington’s tub.” 

“Don’t care,” you sigh, closing your eyes and melting into their comfort. “You weren’t too rough. I would’ve said so, Eds. I know how to use my safe word,” you teasingly poke his chest with your other foot, earning you a nip to your ankle. 

“You back with us now, princess?” Steve asks and you can feel his smile against your neck. “Mockery is always a good sign.” 

“I’m right here,” you confirm, nuzzling into them, grateful at the amount of care they provide for you. The minute Steve’s hands stop massaging your shoulders to rub shampoo in your hair and Eddie starts to lather your body, you’re back to dreamland. Peacefully sleeping, knowing that your boys will take care of you and get you to bed.

---

Eddie tag list: let me know if you want to be added 💚

@only4wakingup @decadentpaperduck @wolfhrdds @live-the-fangirl-life

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steddie x reader #steddie x fem!reader #steddie x you #steddie x reader smut #steddie x reader fluff #stranger things 4 #stranger things #Match Writes #mean!eddie munson #mean!steve harrington #soft!eddie munson #soft!steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader x eddie munson

[beefrobeefcal]

This is a little fic I wrote way back for this and never posted! Original post here.

Bon appetite!

Beefro 👌🥩💜

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Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Frankie one shot

The Catfish & The Mouse: Cranky Frankie

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader (Mouse!)

Summary: Frankie reacts poorly to a change in his diet.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 2,186

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, swearing, naughty Mouse business, oral (f-receiving), Frankie being hangry, p in the v intercourse (bareback - don't be silly, cover dat willy)

Author's Notes: Thank you to the original Nonnie who prompted this!

Not proofed. Enjoy!

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Frankie winced as he sat back at your kitchen table. He knew he asked for this when you caught him at the drive through yesterday, sabotaging his diet. He didn’t want to admit that when you caught him, it was his second time going through. Today though, you were testing him. Dinner was a small portion of chicken and roasted seasonal vegetables.

Now he was left with a hungry belly, and you eyeing him up from the other side of the table. He knew you knew what this was doing to him.

“You finished your dinner! Good boy.”, you cooed with a wry grin. You knew he hated it when he didn’t get his way, and it was one of the few things that could really get him going – especially when it came to food.

You got up and slowly made your way towards him, then leaned over him and ran your fingers over his chubby, yet empty, tummy. Frankie sucked in a breath as you slid his shirt up and ghosted your fingers around his belly button.

“Poor baby… bet you’re feeling pretty hungry still…”, you purred, one hand pushed into his stomach gently, while the other softly started to finger his belly button.

Frankie’s face hardened and couldn’t take his eyes off you, his hard cock now straining in his pants.

“You hangry, Frankie?... my baby wants to stuff himself silly, huh?”

“Knock that shit off, Princess. Behave.”, his hand trying to reach between your legs.

You shook your head and pushed his hand back, and cooed mockingly as you leaned over him with a menacing grin, “No, honey… you’ve been bad, and you know it… you’re just really cranky because you’re not getting your way… you’re not gonna do shit to me and you’re gonna do what I say…”

Frankie’s eyes went dark, and he grabbed your wrist, pulling your face right to his, and growled, “Oh, you fucking think so, princess?... you think you’re in control?... Nuh-uh, baby… I’m gonna fu-“

“You’re gonna what, cranky-pants? Chase me? I don’t think so, baby.”, you chuckled lowly, pulling your hand from him and stepping back. “You might not have a full belly, Frankie, but I’m faster and by the time you do get moving… I’ll be in the bedroom, door locked, and legs spread, fucking myself with a vibrator.”

“Don’t you dare, princess.”, he growled. When you continued to smile and took a step backwards, he stood up and turned to look at you with an eyebrow raised.

“I’m gonna count to three… you better come back here and make me some more damn food … I mean it.”, he commanded in a dark voice, eyes almost black.

“You still gotta beat me to the bedroom, Frankie… moving too slow for that.”, you smiled and took another step back.

“One.”, he snarled as he stood up right and turned fully to you, knowing something about the whole situation that you were not aware of.

“Poor chubby Frankie… I’d like to see you try.”, you said in a mocking sing-song voice, another step back.

“Two.”, he growled and took a step towards you.

You just smiled, shot him the middle finger, and took another step back.

Frankie’s jaw clenched and he gave you a look that said You really want this, brat?, and then barked, “Three.”

You took off down the hallway to your bedroom, and you saw Frankie enter the hallway as you turned to slam the door. You went to lock it, but the knob was different – there was no lock on this knob. You could hear Frankie lumbering to the door, and you backed up, eyes wide.

“I forgot to tell you that I fixed the sticky knob, princess…”, he laughed ominously. “Had to replace the whole thing and I didn’t get one with a lock.”

Frankie threw the door open, and you fell back onto the bed. He stalked towards you as you crawled up the bed, chest heaving.

“Thought you did something there, didn’t you, princess?”, he growled with a smile, crawling on the bed towards you, and remained on all fours caging you in on your back, his belly pressing down on your stomach.

“You’re being a fucking brat… you know you’re in trouble… don’t you, princess.”, he cooed, nose nuzzling yours as he spoke into your mouth, pressing his belly into you further, rubbing it back and forth.

“Frankie…”, you whimpered, your hands going to his shoulders.

“Not so tough now, are you, brat?”

Your eyes snapped up to his and you smiled; you brought one hand to his arm and pushed his elbow to bend, and he toppled onto his side with an “OOF”. You got up on your knees and pushed Frankie onto his back, then straddled his thighs.

“No, baby… you’re not so tough.”, you laughed, and palmed his cock then leaned down to press open mouth kisses onto his belly.

“Oh fuck…”, Frankie moaned, his hands coming to your hair.

You licked and sucked your way over his belly, feeling him pant and sputter under your mouth. You kissed his belly button, began to fuck it with your tongue; you felt his clothed cock jump under your hand, and he let out a loud whine and turned into a whimpering mess.

“Ohmygod…Mouse… fuck… fuck… please… baby… fuck!”

You sat up and pulled his waistband down, his aching cock popped out and slapped his under belly. You grabbed it and dragged your thumb through the slit.

“I’m gonna fuck you, Frankie. Think your poor, empty belly can handle that?”, you purred, finger slipping under your skirt and into your panties, and fingered yourself to get prepared. You maintained eye contact with Frankie, and added another finger, panting.  You pulled your fingers out and held them to his mouth; he opened and sucked them clean with a moan.

Stood up and pulled took your clothing off and crawled back onto him.

“You gotta be a good boy, baby.”, you said gently as you grabbed one his hands and kissed his palm. You grabbed his other hand and placed both above his head.

You got into position and pushed down on him, and you both exhaled moans. You gave yourself a minute to adjust, then you began to slowly move up and down and Frankie’s lips parted as he watched you.

“Look so fucking, good, Frankie… big tummy… too bad you’re not full, Frankie…”, you panted teasingly, continuing your slow pace.

“Fuck, princess…faster… please… need more…”, he begged in a whimper, bringing one of his hands to your hip, trying to get you to move faster.

You slowed your movement even further and gave him a coy smile.

“No, nonononono…. don’t stop… don’t you dare, Mouse!”, he yelled, trying to rut his hips up into you.

When this didn’t get you moving, he furrowed his brow and grabbed your hips, planted his heels in the bed and pushed himself over, now pinning you under his full weight. He felt so heavy, and you were in heaven, being pressed into the mattress.

“Too fucking slow, princess….”, he grunted, pushing himself off you. “Get on your knees.”

You rolled over quickly, and he pulled your hips to him. “Now I’m gonna fuck you and you not gonna be able to sit properly for a week.”

He pushed his cock into your cunt and began to fuck you hard and fast. His belly slapped your ass each time he thrusted in. You let out gasps and cries, your hands balling the sheets in your fists.

“Such a fucking brat… you could have stayed on top, princess, but you just had to fucking tease me… making me work this hard when you won’t feed me like I want… don’t know if you deserve to come…”, he growled as he plowed into you as hard and fast as he could.

“Please… Frankie, please!”, you cried out, arching your back.

“Now sh-she’s begging… fuck, you’re so-so needy…”, he panted back. “You don’t deserve t-to come…”

You whined loudly and reached underneath you to rub your clit, but Frankie barked, “Don’t you fucking dare!”

You whined and cried out, begging for release as Frankie’s hips sputtered. A few more thrusts and he was spilling into you with grunts. You didn’t come.

You didn’t come.  He didn’t let you.

He pulled out of you and flopped onto the bed next to you with a devilishly satisfied grin saying nothing.

He said nothing to you. He just finished and then… that was it.

You sat up on your knees and glowered at him and he continued to smile at you. He had never denied you an orgasm, and then he had the audacity to say or do nothing. He didn’t let you come all because he wasn’t getting his way. This was not what he should be doing. Regardless of what happened during sex, this was how you both reset and came back to reality.

He reached out his hand to touch yours and you ripped it away, furious.

“Oh, Mouse… come on, baby… don’t be fucking brat… come here.”, he tried to coax you, and started laughing.

The laugh sealed the deal for your anger. All you could do in that moment was try to get off the bed with a huff and head to the bathroom to clean yourself up.

“Hey - what the fuck? Get your ass back here!”, he barked with a wide grin as he grabbed you, pulling you back into bed. “I’m not done with you, princess… not by a long shot.”

He shifted his weight and slid himself to the end of the bed, pulling you along with him. As he moved onto his knees on the floor, he smiled dangerously up at you then down to your pussy, dripping his spend.

“Don’t like to leave my baby hanging, especially with a mess.”, he groaned, licking his lips. “Gotta clean up my mess.”

He pulled you by your hips to his face and drove in, tongue lapping at your hole, nose pushed up against your clit. You let out a yelp that fell into a panting moan.

“ohmygodFrankie!”, you cried out. “yes… please… yes… fuck!”

You involuntarily bucked your hips and started to ride his face. He let you for a moment, then clamped his huge hands around your thighs and held you firm so he could clean you up and devour your core.

But he was being an asshole. He brought you close to coming twice on his tongue, and every time the telltale signs of your impending orgasm, he would back off and kiss the inside of your thigh as you whined and thrashed on the bed.

“Please, Frankie!”, you sobbed. “Please… I need to… don’t… not again!”

“You gonna let me off this diet, princess? Not gonna hold me back? I dole out the teasing and control here, sweetheart, not you… remember?”, his saccharine sweet voice held venom in each word.

“Yes… yes, Frankie…”, you panted, tears on your face.

“You sorry?”, he chuckled, placing a kiss on the inside of your thigh again.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Frankie baby! Please… please let me come… I’ll be good… so good, Frankie… please!”

He laughed again and kissed your oversensitive bud, releasing one of his hands from your hip. He then sucked your clit hard and plunged two fingers into you pussy, forcing a scream from your throat.

He kept the punishing pace and added another finger, and you could feel the pent-up energy coil in your belly, and you whined and cried out as his eyes watched you fall apart again. The buildup was coming to its apex, and you felt the coil snap – your back arched and your eyes rolled back, and all your pretty sounds stopped. In your daze, you could barely hear Frankie moaning as you squirted on his hand, arm, face and chest. Wave after wave crashed through you as he rode you through your orgasm.

“Hey princess… breathe, honey… come back to me…”, he whispered, now laying next to you. Your eyes focused and he smiled at you.

“There you go… hey princess…”, he said softly, placing a kiss on your forehead and wiping the tears from your face. “You okay, baby?”

You sighed and nodded, closing your eyes with a small smile on your face. He pulled you close to him and kissed your temple. You laid in a comfortable silence for a while.

“Mouse, baby?”, he asked quietly.

“Hmmm?”

“You promise no more diets?”, he asked in a smaller voice, almost childlike.

A huge smile broke on your face, and you looked at him; giant, brown, puppy dog eyes looked back at you.

“No more diets. You’re an asshole when you’re on a diet.”, you laughed. “Plus, I like you… chubby.”

You saw his smug grin as he pulled you in for another kiss. Against your mouth he asked, “Chubby, huh? You like your Frankie, chubby? That means you’re gonna go make me some more food, right?”

His tummy made a grumbling sound as you shook your head and laughed.

--------<3----------

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[maskedtruths666]

And now, for scene 2.

Scene: She has a threesome with 2 guys in the back alley when she went out for a smoke.

As Jia Qi was reeling and trying to process the situation, she could hear others walking in. She quickly cleaned herself up and headed out to find her group of friends. Unable to fully process it, she thought a quick smoke would be great.

She headed out to the back alley where people were smoking and she casually went up to two guys to ask the, for a cigarette.

The guys obliged and seeing as she’s a foreigner, they conversed in Thai to try and fuck her. They looked around and they came up with a plan to rape her just behind the dumpster. When the last few clubbers went back in, they decided to do it.

The first guy, Rex forcefully grabbed Jia Qi and dragged her to the back of the dumpster. The second guy, John, started groping her and fingering her whilst Rex was holding Jia Qi in an arm lock.

Shocked that she was going to be raped for the second time that night, she knew that she fucked up and she should have not gone clubbing and listened to her boyfriend. But something primal and animalistic woke up in her. She liked being treated like a cum dumpster. She liked being a fuck toy. She liked being used and abused and treated like a whore.

As John was fingering her and groping her all over, Rex couldn’t wait no more. He bent her over and without warning, penetrated her doggy style. John seeing how hard Rex was ravaging Jia Qi’s pussy, also followed suit. He unzipped his pants and out popped his huge dick. He shoved it into Jia Qi’s mouth. The two of the were spit roasting Jia Qi in the back alley and her moans of pleasure wee muffled because of the huge cock shoved in her mouth.

As she was being spit roasted by two strangers, Jia Qi felt no more remorse and was just enjoying the rape. The two guys had their way with her. Soon enough, other men from the club stood by the side lines jerking off to the scene that was happening. Jia Qi was soon covered with cum from other men. As John had enough of his dick being sucked, he signaled Rex to switch places. As soon as John thrusted into Jia Qi, she gasped loudly and said, “Fuck me harder. Please don’t stop. Your dick is so big.”

That spurred John on as he fucked her harder and harder. Rex shoved his dick into her mouth and started fucking it too. The rhythm was so in sync that Jia Qi was literally a fuck toy for the both of them to use and the others who were jerking off to her.

As John was ravaging her mercilessly, a familiar face showed. James happened to walk out and he saw that Jia Qi was being used by the two men. He walked up to her as she was being fucked and said, “ I always knew what a slut you are. I’m glad I used you first.”

Jia Qi could only moan in response as James stood there watching the two guys defile Jia Qi and use her. John was thrusting so hard that Jia Qi was both in pain and in pleasure. As he was about to cum, he signaled to Rex to switch places. He quickly swapped places and he emptied his balls onto her face, ruining her make up. Rex on the other hand, wanted to enjoy her pussy even more. So he continued at a slower pace and was really stretching her out. He signaled to the other men to finish on Jia Qi whilst he was fucking her. Men after men, came to unleash their cum on her cleavage or face. Once she was soaked in cum, and Rex had enough fun, he unleashed a huge load of cum all over her face.

Rex and John took a couple of pictures of a heavily breathing Jia Qi who was so well fucked out of her mind that she didn’t care that she was lying in a pool of cum and dirt on the floor. She lay there, too well fucked and too well pleasured to give a damn about the implications of what had been done.