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romana-after-dark · 12 hours

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It…. It was not what I meant but it works!!!

an Ezra & Cricket One Shot: Brass Knuckled Debauchee Summary: Ezra, after abusing your healing talents, returns to make good on his debt... for a price.

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 4,752

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), weight gain, eating, edging, soft!dom Ezra being an overall ass, teasing, begging, crying, malfunctioning prosthetic limb, the occasional swear

Author's Notes: requested by two (count'em - 2!) lovely babes for the 900 Friendo Celebration - thank you to @xdaddysprincessxx and @morallyinept for bringing Ezra some love.

Huge thank you to @strang3lov3 , @noxturnalpascal & @bitchesuntitled for their beta badass skills and to my ever lovely beta fish, @neverwheremoonchild. None of you will understand the depths of gratitude I hold you all in.

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You’d cared for him when his appendage was newly parted from his person, after a young woman dumped him off at your meagre midwife’s centre.

You hadn’t delivered a baby in at least eight cycles, but you were busy tending to broken bones and crushed limbs from the mine nearby, so the idea of caring for a wound caused by a missing arm wasn’t far from your everyday.

What was far from the standard men in your care was that this one wouldn’t shut up. Truly. You’d never met someone so close to death spew such a narrative. You almost wished to have him out of his misery just to stop his linguistic vomit.

Thank Kevva for sedatives.

You didn’t even want to know his name, worried that if you had his, he’d need yours and there was no way someone this sick and wounded that could carry on like he’s memorized a thesaurus wasn’t capable of performing a hex or a curse on you.

After three blessedly quiet and devoid-of-narration days, the open wound where his arm once hung from was no longer festering and the fever that wracked his body broke. Despite your own desire to keep him silent, you stopped administering such a high dose of the sedative, and you allowed him to regain consciousness.

For the first little while, all you heard was his steady, deep breathing, so you left the room to grab some water and liquified sustenance for him, figuring that when he would finally come to, he’d be hungry.

“To what do… do I owe the pleasure?”, you heard croaked as you walked softly back into the room.

“Oh good…”, you replied flatly. “You’re awake and talking.”

The remainder of his stay that time had revolved around you doing what you could to keep his mouth occupied enough to keep it quiet; you fed him. By the time he’d left, he’d made you aware of his name – Ezra – and bestowed a nickname on you for lack of giving your own. Cricket. He then made the terrible promise to return to see you and left with a wink and a smile.

Your whole body bristled at the thought of having to deal with him again.

*****

The first return visit he made, his confidence and vocabulary were still obnoxiously inflated. Whining of a bruised rib, you resumed your frustrated feeding to keep him down to two to three sentences and responses between mouthfuls.

The second time he returned, he stated that he had been ‘brutalized by a deviant, one who you should not even be told of his true form else your fragile and virtuous mind be stained’. There wasn’t a single mark on him, save for a bite on his only arm that looked to be self-inflicted. He enjoyed himself, smiling between bites of food.

By the third visit – complaining of a sprained toe - you knew that he knew that you knew what you were doing - and vice versa. Despite this, you fed him, and he ate very well. After several days of ‘healing’, he hauled himself up and it was then that you noted his flight suit looking like it was getting tighter around his middle.

Those visits happened in a fairly rapid succession, but a longer period – more than six cycles at least - lapsed before he darkened your doorway and approached your desk once again. Without even looking up, you knew it was him, having heard his cavalier long-form salutations being crooned out at anyone he passed approaching your unit.

“What now?”, you sighed in irritation, dropping your head into your hand, not bothering to look up at him – something you would come to regret to save yourself future embarrassment. You didn’t see him close your door and lock it behind him.

He approached your desk, and his hand came into view along with a mechanical one; the smooth-as-silk tongued devil was now outfitted with a prosthetic arm that looked like it had been stolen from a brass skeleton and had gears added. Your eyes followed the mechanical limb up to the hem of his shortened sleeve, hiding the joint between it and what remained of his actual arm. The new colour of his clothing caught your attention, too, pulling your eyes to his torso. Yes, it was definitely a different colour. He was no longer in the moss greens and soil browns you’d associated with him. Now, he was in a dark blue flight suit with a gold zipper that looked to just be barely holding together.

Your brain paused to take in what was in front of you.

“No more chirps for me, sweet Cricket?”

His raspy, southern drawl sounded sweeter than you’d noticed before as your eyes took in the added weight on his middle. Before looking up to his face, you noted the way the zipper rippled from the strain and the clear indent his belly button made as the fabric pulled taut across his expanse.

His face. As soon as you took it in, you regretted not doing it first. He’s held you in his big brown eyes’ gaze before, but you’d been able to avoid being trapped. But this time you couldn’t help but let them absorb you. His smile widened as he slightly leaned forward, arms putting further weight on your desk.

“You seem at a loss for word, Crick-“

“You’ve been eating well.”, you managed to croak out in a somewhat aloof-sounding voice, nodding towards his middle.

He didn’t shrink back at your comment; instead, it seemed to embolden him. “You started me on a path of decadence that a mere man such as myself isn’t able to easily shake.”

He stood to his full height, eyes never leaving yours. “Is that all you noticed?”, he grinned, lifting his brass appendage, bringing the crude and simple brass hand to his face, smoothing over his moustache.

Your lips parted then closed and parted again before you were able to spit out, “I saw y-… I see you got a new… limb.”

His eyes gleamed at you, seeing his every move had you further in his grasp. You inwardly scowled, chiding yourself on how quickly you were falling under his spell. Narrowing your eyes, you shrugged at him.

“Looks old.”

If it stung him, he didn’t show it; he simply kept that smile on his face and continued to look down at you from across the desk. “I’m not its first owner.”

The pleasantries had only lasted a few more moments before Ezra moved around your desk and hovered over you.

“I’m here to return the favour, Cricket.”

“...Favour?”

“For all the hard work you put into bringing me back to my full health.”, he cooed lowly as his brass hand cooled your cheek with its feather-light touch.

“It’s nothing... I was just doing my j - “

He leaned over you further, cheshire grin pulled menacingly across his face. His voice slipped into a lower pitch and his eyes darted from your eyes to your mouth.

“Doing your job would have been to send me away when I appeared with erroneous and fabricated injuries and illnesses. You, my sweet Cricket, stepped over and above the threshold of your employment and I intend to repay you for your sweetness in full.”

You sucked in a few shallow breaths and nervously swallowed. This was a side of him you hadn't seen, assuming that he was a submissive and pliant brat who’d chosen you to dote on him. But no. There was no favour he intended to pay back. He was just sizing you up and wrangling you into his web, and now he was out loud declaring that you were his prey. His eyes were dark and fixed on you, in contrast with the gentle smile on his face.

“Don’t be nervous, sweet Cricket. You can tend to your own wounds afterwards. Now, let me hear you chirp.”

His brass arm shot out and gripped your wrist tightly and he pulled you from your seat. Dragging you to the maternity room, he tossed you onto the low soft bed.

“Ezra!”, you squeaked as your body hit the push mattress below you.

He dropped to his knees and crawled up, forcing your legs apart, and his belly barely grazed your middle as his face lined up with yours. You let out an involuntary whimper.

“Oh, sweet Cricket. How badly I wanted you on your back, making those sweet vocalizations your namesake promised me.”

His flesh and bone hand gently grazed your face and moved to the back of your head, softly fisting your hair, forcing your head to stay still as he traced his nose along the contours of your face. His eyes remained half lidded and he watched as your own rolled back when he pushed his knee into the crux of your thighs, knowing he had all but your verbal consent.

“This is all you need, sweet Cricket? Someone to light the way?”

All you can muster as his hold on your hair tightened and his knee applied more pressure was a light whine through your parted lips.

You wanted to respond, but the moment you opened your mouth, Ezra’s brass arm made a clunk sound and began to shudder.

“Oh, for Kevva’s sake.”, he muttered, sitting up on his knees as he examined the arm. It made a mechanical sound before it shuddered again, then a higher pitched noise droned as the arm vibrated.

You watched him sitting between your parted legs as the realization of what he had at his disposal dawned on him. Your eyes widened as he turned and looked at you like a starved man with a wild grin.

“Sweet Cricket, I think I could go for a bite to eat.”

*****

Once you’d gotten some finger foods together and brought them back into the room, you found Ezra laid back in a mountain of pillows on the bed. He nodded his head towards you and raised his hand, beckoning you to him.

“Come on, Cricket. Tend to your weary traveller.”

His eyes were glued to you, cascading up and down your form, as you hand fed him. He’d had a few pieces of the savoury pastries when you felt the cool touch of his brass hand slide between your thighs.

“Curious...”, he mused as he chewed. “… that when I make a certain motion with my appendage, it malfunctions in such an amusing manner that I know you will find benefit in, pet.”

Your brows furrow in question and before you can ask how that could benefit you in any way, the arm made that clunk sound again. You felt the vibration between your thighs and your eyes widened.

“Ez – oh fuck!”, you gasped as he pushed his knuckle up against your mound and held it there firmly.

Your mouth was open, allowing shallow panting breaths to puff out and your eyes were closed with your brows pinched as the shuddering vibrations pulsed against you. You’d never felt anything like this before in your life and you thanked Kevva.

The low amber tones of his voice cut through to you and pulled you out of your silent prayer. “Now, sweet Cricket. We are both here to derive enjoyment from one another given we both now have the intel on each other’s vices. You can’t go holding out on me to seek your fruition – that is not fair.”

He pulled his hand from contacting your core, and your eyes snapped to his, a pleading whimper bubbling out from your pouting lips.

“Uh-uh, Cricket. We will play fair.”, he growled in warning. His smile dropped as his features darkened, and he nodded towards your suspended hand holding a small meat-filled pastry. “Don’t you dare hold out on me.”

Shakily, you brought the morsel to his mouth and as he took it in and let his tongue touch your finger, his hand once again pressed against your core.

*****

Ezra had continued to eat and finished over half of platter. But every time you started to get close to your peak, he would pull his hand away, leaving you a shaking mess.

“P-please… Ezra, please!”, you begged mere seconds away from ecstasy.

“I am not finished, sweet Cricket.”, he said with a mouthful. “You will be sated when I have found my fill, and we are not yet there.”

You could have screamed at him, strangled him in a rage. “Ezra please! I - ”.

The warning look he gave you stopped any further pleading. Your mind reeled, trying to find some way to get relief. You could kick him out and try to finish yourself off with your fingers, but you knew it would be fruitless; you’d never gotten this worked up on your own before and you doubt that you had anything in this clinic that vibrated at that frequency.

As you trembled and panted, Ezra watched, amused at how clearly you were seeking a solution to the problem he’d created for you.

“Cricket…”, he cooed, soothing his biological hand up your arm and to your face. He gently guided your chin towards him. “Sweet Cricket, come back to me.”

When your frantic gaze met his, his eyes softened and creased as he smiled. “I will not leave you unfinished. I repay my debts, darling nurse.”

You sighed in defeat, nodded, and took a deep breath. Your eyes trailed down to his noticeably rounder middle that made the already strained zipper pull at the seams of the fabric. He shifted in what looked like discomfort.

You put down the current half-filled plate of food and reached for the zipper tag, tugging it down. It only got to the beginning of the swell of his belly before you met resistance. You tugged a little harder, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Suck it in.”

“Now, Cricket, let’s not be hast-“

“I said suck it in.”, you snapped back far more forcefully than intended.

Ezra froze then nodded. “Sweet girl, I will try, but…” You saw his middle pull in slightly. “… the profound conundrum I experienced in getting it on…”

The zipper finally moved, and he groaned as his stomach expanded. “Sweet Kevva… such relief.”

You were desperate for him to touch you again, but seeing him fat and swollen before you, knowing it was your work that was filling him out. Ezra watched your gaze turn hungry and almost feral. Granted, he felt that way as he watched you teeter on the edge of falling apart over and over. He wasn’t ready to let the power he held over you go, giving him the drive to get through, bite by bite. But that power began to slip the moment his vulnerable and considerably rounder middle exposed, and it left him feeling uneasy and unsure.

“A change of flavour… is needed, my sweet Cricket.”, Ezra crooned, trying to exude as much confidence he could muster, despite his self-consciousness lingering in the back of his mind. He swallowed down a moan as your blown-pupiled eyes met his. He pushed a faux-confident smile and spoke softer. “Something sweeter, perhaps?”

Letting a small huff escape, you nodded and got up from the bed, cursing him under your breath for having this much power over you.

As you stood in the small kitchen area, waiting for the food rehydrator to loudly prepare the freeze-dried baked goods, you didn’t hear Ezra huff and grunt as he got off the bed and saunter into the kitchen. You weren’t alerted to his presence until his belly hit your back and his brass hand went to your hip.

His nose and mouth pressed against the back of your neck, whispering filth as his hand cupped your breast and squeezed.

“You leave yourself so vulnerable, sweet Cricket... back to the door, not an ounce of concern…. any rapscallion of low morals could take advantage… of your sweet, supple figure…”

You let out a light, breathy whine gripping his hand as he kneaded your breast. As much as you wanted his hands on you, you wanted his mouth on your own more, so you pushed your body back against his, making enough room between him and the counter for you to turn around. His brass hand stayed on the curve of your waist, not offering any resistance, and his other hand cupped your cheek, holding it in place while he kissed you softly. His lips moved against yours like he was able to read your mind, or maybe even needed this point of contact as badly as you did. His mouth parted and his tongue pushed for entrance into your mouth, and once it was granted, the kiss fevered and boiled over. You felt your core throb with need and want, soaking your pants and already ruined underwear, and he crowded you against the counter. So wrapped up were you in his mouth and teeth and tongue, that you didn’t feel his brass hand move from your waist.

In one swift move, Ezra shoved your pants down in the front enough for his brass hand to slip with no barrier into your folds. The cool touch you would have expected from it was long forgotten as the metal now met your body temperature. Still engulfed in the kiss that was beginning to rob your breath, the telltale clunk barely registered in your mind until the vibrations started. Sending a jolt through your body, you pulled your face away from his and let out a shrill gasp.

The timer on the rehydrator went off, and Ezra chuckled darkly, watching your brows draw together and your eyes flutter.

“The rules stay the same, Cricket. Sweet or savoury, I will have my fill and you will have your petite mort. But one will meet the other at the same time.”, he said in a wickedly soft tenor. “Now, you can begin holding up your end, sweet girl.”

Once again, Ezra ripped away any power you might have had or believed you had, edging you with each bite, withholding his metal hand’s vibrations from the moment his mouth was empty to the moment your hand shakily pushed another bite past his lips. Overstimulation mixed with the pent-up fury of being denied an orgasm had you panting rapidly, tears threatening to spill over. High pitched whines and shuddering whimpers were all you could produce, and it was music to Ezra’s ears.

“You… create the most… glorious cricket song…”, he mused softly as he chewed the mouthful. “Keep chirping, sweet girl…”

You were coming to a point where you weren’t sure you would make it. Your brain felt like it was filled with the static from a communicator’s blank channel and your hearing and sight felt fuzzy. The coil tightening in your cunt was hitting a painful level, causing you to drop the next pastry you’d picked up with your shaking hands.

As soon as it hit the floor, Ezra tsk’d you, and pulled his hand right out of your pants. The pained sob that burst from you from the loss of contact was loud and harsh, and the tears finally spilled over, staining your cheeks.

“P-please… I… I can’t!”, you cried out, jutting your hand out clumsily to grab his wrist as he pulled back. His dark eyes scanned your desperate ones, pausing momentarily, before his gaze shifted to one of pity and amusement.

“You can’t what?”, he mocked with a cruel grin. “Can’t what, sweet Cricket?”

A rasped and pained whine peeled out of your throat as your head fell to his shoulder, and his hand gripped your hair and pulled back, forcing you to look at him. You looked ruined. Your cheeks flushed and eyes wet and lidded, your lips parted, turned down and chin quivering. He shoved up back and up onto the counter.

“Oh, come now, sweet Cricket. Don’t look at me like I won’t give you your due.”, he whispered, ghosting his mouth over yours. His brass fingers traced lurid shapes along your inner thighs, causing your body to shiver and that coil painfully wind up in your core once more.

“I asked you for something sweeter, pet,”, Ezra mockingly cooed as he pulled back, your face involuntarily following his to try and capture his lips against yours. He shook his head, smile tugging at one side of his mouth. “Something sweeter and you dropped it on the floor. It’s precious currency, Cricket, and you mishandled it.”

Your eyes followed his, stuck in the trance he’d put you under. He could have told you to do anything, given any order and you would have obeyed to your detriment. His brass hand moved to your throat, long, metal fingers grasping just tight enough to keep you precariously seated on the edge of the counter. His thicker middle forced you legs open wide, and his other hand took its place between your legs and without warning, he shoved two fingers into your core.

Your mouth and eyes widened as a wrecked gasp escaped you and your hands went to grab onto what ever meaty part of him you could grab for stability. Ezra hummed in response as the pads of his fingers felt the walls of your cannel twitch and flutter at his intrusion.

“Good Kevva, sweet girl…”, he groaned, watching your face contort. “As much as this contraption of a limb can bring me such sadistic joy at your expense, my own digits needed to feel the silken walls of your inner sanctum.”

As he pumped his fingers in and out of you, he dropped his forehead against yours and hummed again, answering your repeated whining pants and moans.

“Keep chirping, Cricket… sing me your evening song… that’s it….”

As you felt your peak come careening in, he felt your walls convulse and slicken up. The soft tenor he’s just lulled you into a steady rhythm with fell away and the low chuckle followed by his fingers being removed made you scream out and dig your nails into the fattened flesh of his upper arm and shoulder.

“EZ-EZRA! PLEASE! FUCK-PLEASE!”, you sobbed out in a shriek.

His brass hand’s hold tightened around your throat, and he shoved your shoulders flush with the wall behind counter roughly.

Your desperate eyes looked him over as best as you could, given the position he had you in. His bloated and full stomach moved with each laboured breath he took and the strain he put himself under to wreck you was fully apparent. You could feel the outline of his clothed hard cock seated against your thigh and the sweat beading on his forehead. He wiped his face and parted his lips to take in deeper breaths; his irises were indiscernible from his pupils as he looked down at you.

You had never known need like this, and you felt as though you were going to succumb due to your lack of orgasm as a final line in the life that Kevva had written for you.

“P…please…”

“Is it my cock you want to be impaled on, pet? You want to whine and mewl while I rut my quiver bone into your sopping celestial cavern?”, he coolly growled, but there was a slight waiver in his voice. You saw the same desperation in the dark abyss of his eyes.

You nodded dumbly and he scowled, baring his teeth, and tore his brass hand off you, trying to make quick work of getting his flight suit off his shoulders. The arms were tight around his fleshy arms, and you shakily sat up and tried to help. Once his arms were free, you tugged the material over his waist, taking note of the roll of flesh sitting just above his waistband, showing just how much he had been indulging. You gave it a squeeze, revelling in the sound he made, sucking his breath thru his teeth at your fingers.

“Marvel the fruits of your labour, Cricket… The destination you set me on course to has made me beyond redemption and unfit for galactic adventuring…”, he grunted breathily, shoving his flight suit off his legs before kicking it off entirely. “You have effectively rendered me useless beyond what effect I am able to wield on you.”

He shoved his mouth against yours before you could respond or ask what he meant, sucking you into a bruising kiss. His hands gripped your hips, pulling your twitching cunt flush with his weeping, hard cock, knocking the plastic plate that held the desserts onto the floor at his feet. Fumbling slightly, he pulled back and gripped his member, before lining it up with your entrance and pushing it in all at once. The sting of his intrusion melded perfectly with the relief of finally connecting, and the sound you made caused Ezra to almost break. His eyes softened and his brows tented, body tense at the gentle yet firm, warm hold you had on him.

“I’m af-afraid I’ve pushed too far to allow for… for niceties and gentle welcomes, sweet Cricket…”, he panted against your face, teeth clenched as he tried to focus and draw this out as long as possible.

“Please move...”, you begged in a strained whine.

“If I move to fast, sweet Cricket, I will... end this fortuitous connection with an... an early release, and that would render me- fuck!... render me less than a gentleman...”

“You’re no gentleman... now shut up an-and fuck me!”

It seemed that your tight walls and frantic begging were too much for Ezra, and he pulled out with a grunt, followed by a whine as he came onto the plate on the floor. The vulgar sounds of his panting breaths mixed with the sploot of his spend had you seeing red.

“You asshole!”, you screeched, shoving him off you.

He panted and held his hands up in surrender as you charged at him.

“Cricket... forgive me! You’re too sweet... your sacred cavern was too - “

The slap you landed across his face stopped his fancy wordplay. “You fucking bastard!”

Ezra’s eyes flashed in anger, and he stood to his full height, towering over you.

“That was uncalled for, Cricket.”, he snarled. “I will take the wrath of meeting an end without you by my side, but I will not allow you to besmirch my good mother with a question of my paternal lineage.”

You stared at him, eyes wide with anger at his audacity, and before you could say another word, he tackled you to the floor. You tried to fight him off but the moment you heard the clunk of his brass arm and felt two metal fingers punch up into your slick heat, you ceased your struggle.

“See, sweet Cricket? I may be a wayward traveler, but even I know the dangers of leaving a woman on the precipice of completion... “

“Don’t stop... please... don’t stop...”

The vibrations of his arm and the smooth curves of the worn metal fingers found a rhythm that had you seeing stars.

“I plan to keep demanding your company each time I move through this sector, and-”

“Oh Kevva... Ez-Ezra!”

He leaned forward and ghosted his mouth over yours, speaking in a low, husky growl, “... if I were to fail you now, what kind of welcome would I receive the next time I darken your doorway?”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull and your body arched off the floor. Pent up energy burst from your burning cunt, sending wave after wave of precious release through your body. The scream that peeled out of you was dampened by Ezra kissing you forcefully.

His movement slowed and he slowly pulled his brass hand from your core. You were greeted with his grin as he looked over his brass hand.

“You’ve polished only two fingers for me... there are three more.”, he cooed, placing a delicate kiss on the end of your nose. “Next time.”

“N-next time?”

He nodded and stood up with a grunt. You sat up carefully, and it seemed you both took note of the plate on the floor, covered in his cum. The chastisement was on your tongue, but never became words out loud as you were struck speechless as you watched him pick up the plate and fling it out the window.

He turned back to you, standing naked in the kitchen, fat and sweaty, with a grin on his face.

“There is always a next time, Cricket.”

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romana-after-dark · 14 hours

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TEE HEE HEE HEE ABSOLUTELY

“what’s the song of the summer” ?? it’s DANCING IN THE DARK by bruce springsteen for the 40th year in a row

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romana-after-dark · 14 hours

Note

SXXCXRRREEAAAAAMM

😂😂😂

Thank you for your service

Sending you these in this trying time:

thank you these are very important

the first one is so born in the USA album covered coded am I right?!?!?!?

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romana-after-dark · 15 hours

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Under PENALTY of INSTANT DEATH do NOT make blackout poetry of my posts. It is improper behavior and makes me wanna explode. You will receive 80 concussions. Don't make me spell it out again

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romana-after-dark · 15 hours

Text

do i even need to say it?

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romana-after-dark · 21 hours

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Tbh you probably aren’t

🧍🏽‍♂️

It’s pretty bad

Room's On Fire 12: Love the Way You Lie

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader

Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader

Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna lets herself believe the lies

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Extra warnings for chapter: Meltdown, gaslighting and manipulation. Madonna has sensory overload and has a whole meltdown. Lots of people manipulating Madonna. Brief physical violence but it's minor. To be clear, Madonna thinks Iris is willingly having sex with Ben

3.4k words

"Just gonna stand there and watch me burn? Well, that's alright, because I like the way it hurts Just gonna stand there and hear me cry? Well, that's alright, because I love the way you lie I love the way you lie" ~ Love the Way You Lie Part 3, Skylar Grey

Iris stood before you, eye intent and alight in your room. She had convinced Reyansh to step away, and after some concerned disagreement from her lover, he acquiesced to her request, and Iris confronted you.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

Despite the tears in your eyes, you guffaw at her audacity. She had no right to ask anything from you after you watched her be bent over and fucked by your husband.

“How dare you.” You spat. “How dare you ask anything of me! How dare you think I owe you anything!”

You saw a look of confusion on her face that softened for a moment. “You think we’re having an affair, don’t you.”

It was you who was confused now. “What else am I supposed to think?!”

Iris simply shook her head, then settled back into her determination. “Just… fuck, you can’t tell Reyansh or Jonah, please?”

“You’re more concerned about me telling them than Santi or Will?” You laugh.

“Yes!” Iris’s voice cracks, the building emotion in her tone, the desperation that was so clear… you soften your voice.

“I can’t… Rey… he’s my friend…”

Iris closed her eyes and sighed. “I know… I know it looks really bad just…” she scrubbed her face. “I know I haven't always been nice to you, I haven't been welcoming and you care more about Jonah and rey and you have no reason to care about me- ”

“That’s not it!!” You shout, frustrated. How could she think that? “Of course I care about you! All I fucking wanted all these months was for everyone to like me and it feels whenever I finally get someone figured out, something else happens! You, Jonah, Pope, Frankie, Ben! It’s so fucking confusing and it fucking hurts! I just wanted you to love me like I love you! I love everyone in this house, I love everyone in Delta and for some! Fucking! Reason! I could never figure out how to make friends and then my dad had to mess up everything! I came here and I thought-” Your voice cracks under the weight of your feelings, and you close your eyes to not have to look at the pity of her face. You were over the pity. “I thought things would change. That I was divinely chosen and things would get better but… I never fucking does.”

There is a long silence, you could only hear the sound of your own heart beating, the world seeming to fold in on you. All you ever wanted was to not feel so alone and no matter what you did, you just couldn’t seem to push the pieces together.

“Please.” Iris whispered, her voice soft and vulnerable. “Just… give me some time.”

You’d agreed not tell Rey or Jonah for now, then told Iris to get the fuck out of your room. As the door closed, you saw the confused eyes of Rey, clearly worried about you and her. Listening through the door, you hear him desperately trying to get Iris to tell him what’s going on while she keeps saying it's fine, it's fine, it’s fine. Their voices trail off as Rey abandons his post, because Iris is the most important thing to him. You couldn’t blame him for that.

The next day you search out Will. All of your men had different temperaments that were suites for different things, different needs and wants and moods.

Pope was fire and ice, emotions that shifted with the wind but intense no matter what. Pope held the passion and it showed in the way he preached to crowds, controlled a room, even those small moments while he watched you paint his eyes were alight.

Francisco was your calm intelligence, attention to detail that was valuable to the community. When you presented him with your cross stitching, he ran his fingers over every stitching, noticing every thread. He memorized your body the same way, with quiet determination.

Ben was your fun, your adventure and joy. Ben was good at destruction, whether fucking you on a rooftop or taking you out for a high-speed horse race, Ben was always abled to clear your mind. His bright-eyed joy and boyish wonder for the world around him was always more important than whatever else was happening.

Will was logical, patient, clear headed. Will could soothe you and provide you with answers, talk you through your feelings, reassuring you on that golden tongue of his, that tongue that made you cum over and over again and made your heart swell with his sweet words.

Will was who you needed right now.

What you weren’t expecting was for Will to not be surprised.

When you come to him, trying your best to hide the tears blurring behind his eyes, hearing.

“I thought Iris was a strange choice.”

He was surprised by the fact it was Iris. Not that he was sleeping with someone that wasn’t you, Pope, or Francisco.

When you question what he means, Will goes on to say. “Well, Iris and Frankie were going to be engaged at one point, and seeing as her dad was sleeping with my fiance, it seems a bit of a mess, but” He shrugged. “That’s Ben for you.”

What did that mean? Iris and Francisco were together? Had she slept with two of your husbands? Fuck, had she slept with them all? Did Iris have everything you didn’t, fucking your husbands, Rey, ever loyal at her side, a dad that was good and loved her? Beauty and confidence that you felt you could never achieve? Your hand goes to your stomach. She didn’t have a baby. “You… knew Ben was sleeping with someone?”

Will goes back to organizing his medical books. “Well I mean I figured he had someone, especially after him and Frankie, well, you know.”

You didn’t. “They what?!?” You stand there, feeling dumb. You were dumb.

Will waves his hand behind him, not looking at you. “It’s just them, you know how they are.”

Again, you didn’t. “Will…” Your voice cracks his name. “What’s going on?”

He stops, turning to look at you with a frown and when he sees the tears in your eyes, his face falls. “Oh, princess…” The pity drips from his mouth, smooth as honey but a hint of something else. “Did you not know we could see other people?”

You felt… stupid. Heat rose up at your neck, ears burning. You were angry and felt humiliation. “He wasn’t ‘seeing’ other people, he was fucking my friend up against the wall!”

In surprise, but remaining calm, Will raised an eyebrow. Immediately you feel childish for your outburst. Talking like that, saying ‘fucking’, it was not becoming of the Madonna. “She’s your friend now, is she?”

You were certain you looked like an idiot standing there. “Well, yes, she-”

“Because yesterday you said you weren’t friends”

“No! No that’s not what I-”

“Did you not say you had nothing in common?”

You… you did say that… Had you said you weren’t friends? You didn’t feel like that’s what you had meant to say… Had you misled him? “Well, yes but I just meant-”

“It’s no matter. The point is, Madonna…. My darling wife…” Will steps forward and takes both your hands. “How many wives did Isaac have?”

You blink. “Two…”

“And king David?”

“Three… But they were married! They were holy unions, like me being married to you 4?”

A slight smirk on his face. “Do you think you’re King David in this scenario?”

Once again, you felt stupid and embarrassed. “Oh… sorry, I misunderstood the analogy…”

“It’s alright, come here, beautiful…” Will pulls you in, his strong arms making you feel safe, secure… It was going to be okay. “Since the dawn of time, men have always had multiple partners. As God’s, we have needs that can’t be filled by one woman.”

“But I thought… I guess I thought you were with each other too, and that was enough…”

Will rubs your back, his fingers massaging into your tense skin. “It is for me, Madonna, don’t worry… You, Pope and Frankie are enough for me. Ben just has a strong sexual appetite. It’s a part of his energy, you know how he is. He just has mistresses. You didn’t know he had mistresses Madonna? Kings and Gods, we always have mistresses and lovers. It’s a part of our nature. Surely you know this, Madonna…”

Of course. Of course you did. How stupid of you to think they didn’t. “Does it… does it have to be Iris?”

“I’ll talk to him, okay? No guarantees, but I’m sure someone else will be suitable.”

You felt better. Will always made you feel better. Your questions have been answered…. So why did you still feel confused?

What you didn’t know was that after Ben was done with Iris, the clarity hit him. He fucked up. And who does he count on to fix his messes? Ben ran to Will, who concocted the mistress defense in an instant. Then smacked Ben upside the head for being so stupid.

Frankie’s head lay in your lap, his unbuttoned shirt showing off curls of hair. He was beautiful like this, gazing up at you as you placed small flowers and bright green blades of grace in his hair. His cock was hard inside where your legs were spread over him, your white dress covering you both, just how you two liked to hang out in the meadow; sometimes fucking, sometimes not. Always together and connected. Frankie’s mouth was occupied with a joint.

“Can you grow flowers?” You ask him, distracted. You’d been distant all day, mind busy reconciling the fact Ben was sleeping with another women. Perhaps you were overreacting, naive, selfish. You got to sleep with 4 handsome men, it was wrong of you to expect them not to sleep with other women, right? How could you be jealous where Ben’s dick went when you were sitting on Francisco’s right now?

“Hm? Oh, no, I wish. That’d be cool.”

You hum in acknowledgment, absentmindedly twirling one of his curls against his forehead around your finger, looking at the red, blue, yellow and white flowers in his hair, brown locks in a bed of green grass. You liked the smell when he smoked. You never liked it before, but now it reminded you of him.

“You okay, beautiful?”

Your lip quivered. “Yeah.” You wish he hadn’t asked that. Tears began to burn behind your eyes.

A deep crease appeared between his brows. “I don’t think you are.”

That was enough. “D-do you have a mistress?” You manage to get out, then begin to cry, and Francisco pulls you down onto his body, the thick joint put out in the dirt.

“Sweetheart, hey! Where is this coming from? Of course I don’t… why would you ask me this?”

“Ben does!” You don’t know when you became so emotional… You felt stupid. You always were easily frustrated, people not making sense to you, sounds being overwhelming… but you weren’t a cryer, not anymore. As a child, you were prone to meltdowns, something that was disciplined out of you. You learned to shut down, not act out, as a good and holy woman should… the tears must have come with pregnancy.

“Oh baby… what do you know?”

You explain it to him. Not how you found them, not how Ben wanted you to participate, but that you knew he was sleeping with Iris.

Francisco’s eyes widened at that, tone just a tad darker than you knew it to be. “He’s sleeping with Iris? Really?”

“Yes!” You sit up and smack his chest in the low-buttoned shirt; it wasn’t hard, but he flinched. Guilt washed over you, but you couldn’t stop. “And you were going to be engaged to her! You’re probably sleeping with her too!” You smack his shoulder again, but when he catches your wrist you begin to scream. It was all too much: him inside you, the wind on your skin, grass itching your legs, the smell of the burning joint and that deep-seeded something deep down inside you threatening to boil over. There had been no outlet for you, no where you could turn to feel anything happening and not feel the things that were constant irritants. You had no mouth, and yet you must scream. So you did.

Francisco watched in horror and you broke down, screaming and crying and pulling at your hair and scratching your legs.

“Madonna, hey, Madonna what's going on? Talk to me, please, your… you're scaring me…” He keeps his distance when you climb off him, but it doesn’t seem to help.

You don’t want to feel the grass or your dress or the wind and you don’t want to feel the pain deep in your heart, the anger and hurt and fuck the grass feels awful. You scratch and scratch and it hurts. You tug at your dress.

“It’s too much!” You shout, crying as he watches you. “My dress, the grass it’s too too fucking much!”

Every second feels like forever, but you are soon aware of Francisco’s hands on you, You try to smack him away, not wanting more touch as you melt down on the damp ground, but what he does surprises you. Fransco pulls off your dress, which initially makes you fearful of the grass texture on more skin, but soon enough you are pulled onto his lap, your naked body curled up on him and he’s squeezing you, he’s squeezing you so hurt and fuck, it feels good. You stop screaming, beginning to calm down but still crying. He pulls a blanket over you and at first you aren’t sure why. He makes sure the blanket doesn’t irritate your skin more, still holding you.

When you hear the sound of horse footsteps, you realize why he covered you.

“What the hell happened! It’s she okay?” Jonah tore up the ground when he heard you screaming while doing circles around the open meadow. The sound of you in pain echoed down the valley, and Jonah feared the worst, and he shouted your name when he saw you.

You didn’t answer, too exhausted and distressed. Frankie looked up to Jonah on the horse. “She’s alright, she just had a… had to get some feelings out. Could you please bring my horse?”

Jonah’s eyes darted to wear your dress lay discarded on the ground and back to you. He shared a knowing glance with Francisco, and went to fetch his horse, Cielo.

Francisco gentle kissed your forehead as you muttered an apology. “You have nothing to be sorry for, mi flor” He picked a wild flower out of the ground and placed it behind your ear. “Mi flor perfecta. You’re my wife, you’re the only one I need. I don’t have, need, or want a mistress.”

You sniffle. “And… Iris?”

Francisco sighed. “That was never my idea. I won’t lie to you, we’ve kissed, we’ve done a little more but… that was Bea- ahem, Divine Mother’s plan. She wasn’t the one I wanted.”

Jonah rode up with Cielo, and Francisco stood with you in his arms before handing you, bundled up in the blanket for modesty, to Jonah. As Francisco gathered your dress and the picnic quickly, Jonah held you close; firm chest a contrast to Francosco’s fluff.

“Had me scared there, darl’n. Though someth’n happened to yuh.”

“”M sorry…” You mutter, tired. His deep, gentle voice was soothing.

“”Salright… I’m still worried, so you come talk to me if yuh need to, okay? My doors open this time, I promise…”

Bags packed, Frankie got on Cielo.

You remember last time you came to Jonah’s room crying… he was letting you know you could this time, should you need to.

“I got her.” Francisco spoke quickly, practically taking you out of Jonah’s arms.

On the ride back, sun beginning to paint red over the land, you feel somewhat childlike. You’re naked under the blanket, feeling a bit like a burrito. You hope your baby is okay. Frankie assures you that baby and you will be okay, but he’ll take you to Will when you get home, let you rest.

“How did you know what to do to… to help me, I mean.”

A long pause. “Just…” He sighs. “I’m omniscient, all that.”

You nod against his chest. “It was Ben, wasn’t it? The one you wanted to marry instead of Iris? I see how you look at each other…”

Another sigh. “Yeah. It was. But don’t worry about that now, Madonna. Love’n Benjamin… it ain’t easy. I guess you know that now. It’s not like loving you.”

You spent the rest of the day in Will's dim lit bedroom, Will and Frankie making sure things weren’t too loud or bright or anything that might disrupt you and the baby. You would be okay.

When Iris brought you and your two husbands your diner, she couldn’t look you in the eye. You noticed the way Francisco watched her with wide, sad eyes. You wondered if he wanted her.

The next day, Pope found you painting, sauntering in the room with his wine. “What’s this one going to be?” He asked over your shoulder. He smelled fresh and clean, his growing beard tickling your face.

“A maypole.” You point to the tall structure and ribbon’s you’ve painted so far. “I wanna do it with all our colors, red yellow blue green white.”

“Beautiful idea, my Madonna.” He took a step back, looking at you with concern. “Frank, he… told me what happened to you in the meadow.”

Your eyes widened. “I’m, Pope I’m sorry!” You begin to ramble, to panic again. “I’m so sorry it won’t happen again! I just- I was over reacting and being childish and I promise it’ll get it under control!”

You expected anger, or his disappointment. You couldn’t bare it if he cut you off again. Instead, he was gentle; his voice was soft and calm. “What are you apologizing for, beautiful girl?”

“For… for being…”

“Human? Madonna…” He steps closer to you again, his hair now long enough to tie in a bun but right now, the graying curls dance at his shoulders. His eyes are empathetic. “I use to… I used to struggle with… similar feelings. Emotions I felt out of control with… my mother, she…” Pope’s feet shuffled and he looked down, suddenly seeming 10 years younger. “Well, she obviously had a lot more to worry about than just me. I guess I wish she handled it differently. Ways that didn’t involve locking me in a dark closet or using a belt.”

Your heart sinks at that. You were raised to believe in corporal punishment; it was used on you, and every child in delta… you didn’t realize it was used on Pope. He was a child in Delta after all… but you had thought God’s were beyond it. You forget, sometimes, Pope was half human. It hurt you to know that he had been hurt.

“Frank was the only one who could calm me down sometimes.”

“Oh Pope, I’m so sorry” Quickly, you embrace him with a hug that he returns tightly.

“It’s okay, just… don’t feel bad for having feelings. Get them out whatever way you want, if you wanna get out more, Saha can take you riding our walks or whatever. We’re here for you, Madonna. You took on the burden of baring the savior, we’re going to take care of you in return.” He tightened his grip on you, tucking his face into your neck.

You felt safe with him. You felt seen. “Thank you, Pope. I love you.”

“I love you too, Madonna. We all do.”

He held you like that for the while, your hearts beating against each other, safe in your own skin, pregnant belly pressed up against his softness.

“Oh, that one’s new…”

Breaking away, you turn to see where he was looking and smile when you recognize the picture. It was the abstract piece you and Ben made. “Oh! Yeah, me and Ben made that!”

Pope’s back stiffened, but it went unnoticed by you. “You… made it?”

“Yes!” You laugh, walking over to it and smiling, admiring a particular spot you knew was Ben’s buttcheek. “We had sex with paint on our bodies. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Your heart was warm looking at the painting, remembering the good times with Ben. It was going to be okay. Your bodies made something so beautiful together, you loved him so, so deeply, it had to be okay.

“It’s beautiful, Madonna.”

Sarcasm was lost on you.

******************

Alright guys, next chapter....... IS WHERE IT ALL GOES WRONG!!!!

I wont have anything out for at least 2 weeks probably bc........ PAPERS so much writing to do ahhhhh

as always i appriciate your guys kind comments more than you could ever know! Esp after everything that happened a few weeks ago that caused me to slip away for a bit. Love you all dearly <3

Also: any idea for names??? I like Meadow for a girl because Frankie and Madonna and THATS WHAT BELLA AND EDWARD SHOULD"V NAMED THEIR DAUGHTER INSTEAD OF FUCKING RESUME

where my ratties at?

Please consider joining me in in donating to humanitarian aid in Rafah through Doctors Without Borders

LOVE YOU ALL!

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