#they love giving these teens THICK fuckin hair

[ezzakennebba]

regular high school students with normal paternal relationships ⚡️

[godlytemperance]

npmd proshot reaction livethread

except i'm not on twitter and also this is probably my third time watching it because i was too busy painting my room to make a proper live reaction post

having the two nerds that die be the first singers we see is such good foreshadowing actually,,, you know from the first moment they start to experience a change in their lives after max kicks the bucket that they're doomed, and the first act shows you that right away. none of the other kids in the first song are injured by max, just richie and ruth.

lauren doesn't have her headgear in High School Is Killing Me, which is a bit confusing, but i think it's so her voice is clearer in the first song

also i love ruth's sweater? i'd totally wear that irl

grace looks utterly deranged in every song because she doesn't drop that fuckin SMILE the whole time i love her so much

i love the "AUGH" chorus after "it's one hell of a normal abnormality"

someone brought this up before i noticed it, but grace is the only one to cover her mouth during any iteration of "i'm so fucking dead", which is so swag actually... it fits the choreo while also showing that she's super averse to cursing (initially)

pete my beloved... stephanie's so correct for falling in love with him

also PETE'S TIE MATCHES HIS SUSPENDERS THAT'S ADORABLE??? plus it very (very) subtly matches steph's flannel i'm gonna explode

anyways mariah looks gorgeous throughout the whole show

the little string instrument *plunk* as steph snaps pete's suspenders

pete's goofy run

steph giving up on asking who pete's running from as soon as she realizes he's dipped

i'm pretty sure that kim's nerd character has a unibrow, or very thick brows that have that appearance? that's actually really cool that they implemented features on characters that would lead to bullying from a societal standpoint.

i'm not ashamed to admit that i thought richie was gonna be a metalhead from the very brief glimpses we had of his outfit before the show dropped... imagine my terror when i heard "anime love pillows"

oh also is richie's hair Like That because of bedhead? a cowlick? hat hair? a shitty haircut? i don't know and it's gonna drive me insane

KYAAAAAAAA

as someone who's been bullied, then Suddenly had one of my bullies admit to having a crush on me, max's crush on grace is completely realistic fr

homec*mming... babygirl you are so repressed

continually stating that all of the main characters are 18+ / seniors is actually very relieving to see, especially for shows set in high school. like yeah, teens can be weird and nsfw, but it feels deeply upsetting when it's not established that they're of legal age. it's still gross, though, but in a "aw shit we Were like that in high school, damn" kinda way

literal monster slaps so fucking hard

is ms. tessburger in a relationship with mr. lauter? she acts like a shitty stepmom to steph (on that note, the theory that steph's biological mom was a former honey queen, and that's why solomon has used the black book before)

if i had a nickel for every time corey doris nearly brought a hammer down on his daughter, mariah rose faith casillas, i'd have two nickels

PETE'S UPDATED OUTFIT I LOVE HIMMMMMM

i love ruth's warm color palette, it's even visible in her wig :00

ruth is so "i read hetalia wattpad lemon too early and that's the only reason i passed social studies"

i didn't catch richie saying "NANI????" on my first run and it felt like a punch to the gut

ruth and richie crawling all over pete to try and hear steph is so hysterical. they are just creatures

wEEeooWEEoOO

richie please... richieeee attack on titan is so badddd

"someone's willing to tolerate your presence for a whole evening",,,, he is so neurodivergent to me

pete you are SO much cooler than you think you are

steph 🤝 emma being head over heels obsessed with the normalest dork in history

"SAY YOUR PRAYERS" "amen :D"

i desperately wanna read the newspaper that mr. chastity is reading

also if the chastity's weren't so adamant on abstinence-only education for grace, they'd be the cutest family ever... like they're actually really healthy and communicate really well with each other

karen chastity freezing up during every freudian slip kills me

grace's fucking FACE when she says "this is sooo wrawng"

MAX'S ABS?????

max is so puppydog when he's talking about jesus. that scene is what made everyone say he was babygirl

grace sweetie you're drooling

local nerdy prude realizes she has a blasphemy kink and promptly goes insane about it

grace and max are toxic yuri actually. if max was a girl grace would've got the black book speed-run world record

max's little scramble back to the stage. little cockroach of a man

SHE DID THE FACE AGAIN AS MAX LEFT

i will never shut up about grace starting her villain arc immediately after dirty girl. she just doesn't SHOW it until after she tastes blood

not waifu material

as much as i love lautski and dirtyprude (i don't know the actual ship name for max and grace), i do think that the entire nerdy prudes squad + max should be in a poly relationship,,,, love their dynamics

"there are two girls in the boy's bathroom" grace. grace is there something you wanna share with the class. grace why didn't you count yourself

the lore drop of the black altars Before we even hear about the black altars... :3

"SEX MAGIC" "😳😏"

"wait but where are the waylons" you may be asking. simple. they put a curse on the house that made sure that nothing dies in it... but they didn't die in the house. they died by the witchwood bc of the hatchetmen. the curse wasn't activated until max died there.

they actually spell potty-pants as PottyPants and PissyPants in the captions

"i have overactive sweat glands" I AM A TRANS RICHIE TRUTHER

she spin

and she spin others too

"PETEY GONNA JUMP ON OUT" 🕺

SPIDERMAN REFERENCE LETS GOOOO

also a kamehameha for good measure

as someone whose entire family says "cool beans", the cool beans section is stuck in my head

lauren's face as she says "excellent" is so cute

ruth's crush on steph getting multiplied by a thousand the MOMENT steph touches her shoulder. god me too

"you kinda look like that homeless guy from downtown" (audience hollers)

i didn't realize that lauren was twerking at joey in the background of the proshot. i know for a fact that he had to practice so hard to keep from giggling

richie trying to hook ruth up with pete... he loves her so much he wants ruth to be happy so bad....... polynerds should be real

i think that if max hadn't fallen from the third floor (which i think is this timeline's event that got messed up, like how the starlight theater got crushed in TGWDLM), he would've loved going to haunted houses with the group... they go to the local haunts every year and one time they get tickets to Halloween Horror Nights and max happy-cries so hard about it that he fucks up his voice

𝕒ᵃ𝕒𝔸𝓐𝓪𝓐𝐚𝐚𝔸ᵃ𝓪𝔸

SKELE'IN count x5

grace stop being horny for two seconds

ruth's little yelp is so cute

also MAX GOING TO PROTECT STEPH... he loves people deep down

the audience going "aw...!" when max says that the prank was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for him

grace literally blue-screens when she realizes she hasn't gotten the upper hand on max. girl is Stunned

GET DOWN FROM THERE YOU DOOF

will doing the goofiest noises of exertion is so funny to me

the gore sfx under the wooden planks is so gnarly actually also the blood from max's mouth, holy fuck

... y'r fuckin useless, rich

ruth being more upset about not being someone's bitch than about Going To Jail In The First Place

i love how doe-eyed grace is as she says "it was an act of god!" she is like a little purse dog to me

"oh no she's snapping again"

i love ruth's slumped pose. she is just 🧍

steph looks like she's gonna throw up when grace mentions cutting up the body

also steph's "WHY????"

THE STAGGERED HARMONY FROM MARIAH I LOVE HERRRRR

pepperonis

hypegirl grace real

pete getting anxious after being called a nerd... boy's traumatized now

they are so flirting in this scene. sarcastically going to a football game. lautski forever

STEPH'S SMILE AFTER SHE CONFIRMS THE DATE SHE'S SO CUTE

ruth and richie actually getting positive attention for once,,,,, they deserve the world,,,, stacy calling richie Mr. Lipschitz is adorably sweet

realizing that the mascot is a reference to ezekiel the nighthawk from Perky's Buds nearly incapacitated me

stacy and brenda are so cute in the background

i love that the football team is so nice to each other when max is gone, to the point where the team rapport is actually genuine instead of forced

FUCK YOU CLIVESDALE GO GET FUCKED YOU'RE FUCKIN LOSERS AND WE'LL KILL YOOOOOU (i checked the live comment section when the show had just dropped, and it was a fucking cacophony of "FUCK CLIVESDALE" the same exact thing happened during the talkback livestream too it was so fucking funny)

i love that they squawk as part of their school chant

stacy's smile dropping was so cunty of her

richie's the best mascot ever (do you think he has a fursuit. i think he has a fursuit. it's tricked out like crazy and it has built in ac. he doesn't talk about it because its a timberwolf and it makes him feel guilty as a hatchetfield nighthawk)

HE FEELS CONFIDENT ENOUGH TO CALL JACOB JACE I'M GONNA SOB

wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube richie, i love the way he makes the suit slap the ground with his wiggles

the audience collectively remembering he's the first body mentioned in the show as soon as he says "i love being alive!"

max's bedazzled ghost costume kills me

but on a serious note, the ghost sfx slays so hard

does max have psychic powers after he dies? he's shown making richie float, forcing the doors to close, and knocking richie prone without touching him in the NPMD song. but all of his kills involve physical contact?

speaking of: the DOOR SLAM holy fuck

they had to give richie a dorky vest over his long sleeve + button-up combo because otherwise he would've had too much transmasc swag. proof: right before he dies he loses the vest

grace having a prophetic nightmare that doesn't get elaborated on... waddahell

unironically grace's shirt is so cute. the coquette girls would love her

max defo would've whooped the chemists' asses. plus if he actually got his redemption arc he would've boosted the team's morale like crazy

grace is never chill ever

all of the nerds having their own nauseous reactions to getting called to the office

i honestly thought they were asking about max in the group interrogation scene the first run through. god i can only imagine how sick the three (not counting grace) of them felt realizing that one of their closest friends was dead

the lauren urge to lie face-down on the nearest surface

grace immediately targeting ruth... homophobic behavior fr /j

i am glad that none of them assume that it's a ghost right away, because that kind of trope is super cliche. let them figure it out slowly!! they don't need to know it's a monster right away! let them think it's a mundane threat!

dan and donna moment

also it took my second run-through of the show to realize that the "hatchetfield kennel" line isn't just a smooth transition into dan's last name. it's referencing the problematic pooch from HSIKM

i actually thought that officer bailey was sam for a bit, then i remembered that charlotte's last name was sweetly, then i realized it's a separate character

LAUREN CHOREO POG + donna is so pretty in this song

karen gendering ziggy correctly is something that can be so personal to me

also JAEEEEEEE MY BELOVED I LOVE ZIGGSSSSSS

barry swift slays

the creeping steps in the second chorus repetition are so cool

CHARLIE???? BRUH??????

bryce's solo was so well-deserved, she has a fucking angelic voice!!! i just know that the audience lost their minds every fucking night

GERALD!!!!! my favorite evil old man

"can i shit or will i drown" references richie dying by swirly and it took too fucking long for me to realize that

fuckin traaaaaanscendent (is this sam? i think it's sam)

the little implied bird

KAH-bob. he sounds like a text-to-speech. accurate for some theater production actors tbh

paaaaahsshin <3

m'BAHBECUU

i love kim's teacher character, she's so cute

the collective "thank you ten" from the actors (and maybe the audience)

knowing that ruth's first canonical debut on stage (canonical in the Workin' Boys short film, at least) involved her forgetting her only line bc of stage fright makes me so sad... she does have a lot of talent, but her anxiety about being watched and judged scares her from the stage. it takes failing once to get over that fear, but even then, it leaves a lasting worry that you'll fail again.

on that note: ruth being so conscious of her appearance and personality that she's terrified of her own future. she's afraid that the best parts of her future will be centered around making other people happy, and never about what makes her happy. she's afraid that she'll get married to someone who doesn't care for her. (or worse, someone who has taboo desires, because who else would take her but those who want to use her as a diversion? the "maury prefers their kids" line after the pool is mentioned makes my skin crawl for ruth.) "well done on the outside, not within" "should i let the coals burn out" "should i let the years cook my body down" she's horrified of the future she feels she's destined for. she has so many dreams, but she feels like she isn't able to - or allowed - to pursue them.

i'm gonna be skipping ruth's death scene because it actually makes me feel sick... half because it's a form of torture that actually makes me feel nauseous (getting split from the crotch upwards) and half because it's happening to a character who's living an experience i've had in the past (feeling unworthy of pursuing something you love)

it's super obvious that shapiro is waiting to catch grace in a lie, which makes her interrogation of grace super funny in hindsight. she KNOWS this perfect christian girl is bullshitting her and blatantly lying about the deaths. i can only imagine how vindicated she felt when grace immediately crumpled under the pressure

DOOO SOMETHING YOU SONUVABIIIIITCH

OH FUCK GRACE GOT A GUN!!! SHIT!!! THIS NEVER GOES GOOD!!! (grace gets a gun in Workin' Boys too it's so fucking insane)

i love that grace's bike is so iconic

the audience losing their fucking minds when paul and emma appear on stage. same fr

"it's short for a perpetrator" paul you are so autistic (affectionate)

THE REFERENCE HAPPENED WE CAN REST EASY NOW

also this time around we get to see what the paulkins meeting would've been like in another universe and it's just as cute as we expected it would be

*ptuuuh*

........ WWWWHAT

if richie could see them now he'd be calling them tsunderes. am i fucking wrong

did pete just shotgun a hot chocolate. buddy that was fresh out the fuckin pot

pete's color scheme switching from subtly green (to match with steph) to subtly yellow has me running laps in the kitchen rn. tinky would lose his fucking mind

steph openly admitting she likes smart people, implying that she doesn't consider herself smart by comparison... babygirl you are so intelligent i prommy

starkid consistently showing that romantic partners don't have to kiss on stage for them to have chemistry makes me so fucking happy as a person with kiss aversion

why does beanies just have hot water in cups. do they just make instant drinks. iconic of them actually

HOMOPHOBIC GRACE REAL??? /j (but also not)

grace immediately jumping to fleeing the country and holding her friends at gunpoint has me giggling. she's got the world record for jumping to conclusions

also thank god grace knows proper gun etiquette (not holding her finger on the trigger) but also. who taught her that.

the way grace immediately scrambles to hide, and she does it fast enough to make it look like she just teleported behind the chairs in the proshot

yyyAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (how dare they call her Barista in the captions. you put some respect on emma perkins's name)

alternatively: imagine you work up the nerve to give your number to a cute barista and five minutes later she's trying to get a cop to stop holding you in an armlock. what a wild first impression to give to someone who marries you in every fucking timeline

grace is so wet cat coded, angela did an incredible job playing her!!

bringing up the honey queen Mrs. Lauter theory again because how else would the lauters have the black book? i know that linda's family is the one in charge of the festival, but the mayor obviously has some sway in it as well. he probably acts as the warden for the book in most timelines, because if it was in the hands of the church itself, they'd be trying to summon gods every damn day. he keeps the church under control, allowing them one day a year to summon the only god that is the easiest to pacify. he probably proved his worth by convincing his wife to pursue the honey queen title, knowing full well what would happen to her, because he needed to give up something to show he could be trusted. (i also think this is why nibbly singles steph out when they first meet. he's already tasted lauter blood, and he likely recognizes her as the daughter of the man who facilitates his resurrection every year.)

AGAIN: the waylons made sure the spell was cast on the house, but the spell wasn't TRIGGERED until max died there. more proof that the waylons aren't ghosts, but that they were intended to be the ghosts.

returning to the honey queen lauter theory again: imagine how heartbroken steph is after all of her parental figures have died. her mom isn't around by NPMD, and during the show, her stand-in stepmom and her dad both die. she's technically an adult by the time of NPMD, but she's still lost all of her remaining family in one night.

i'm glad that they were able to convince shapiro about max at the last second, but damn, how fucked up is it that you learn that the current suspects of a homicide case are being haunted by a spirit that's been picking them off one by one, only for said spirit to slam your face through your fucking windshield. you survive the incident, somehow, but now you know that hatchetfield is haunted and you nearly became a victim.

i talked about the LiB and their altars at the very beginning of my NPMD fixation so i'm not gonna repeat it here :PP bleh

i am gonna mention that i love the designs of the LiB tho! they're so neon and goofy, they have little props that show who they are, it's so cute nibbly has his lollipop (which happens to look pretty fleshy, like a twirled up intestine), pokey has his mask, blinky has his sunglasses, tinky has his Bastard Box, and wiggly has a plush of himself + a crown that indicates his place in the hierarchy

the hair touch when steph starts to realize that pete is the thing she desires most... chills

also someone mentioned that in the digital ticket, steph fully collapses during "stephanie has got a gun", and i can definitely see that in the proshot too! it isn't seen in full, but her posture definitely slumps something fierce between shots

and what if i cried? huh? what if i burst into tears knowing that pete was resigned to dying to save steph's life? that he openly admits to loving her more than the stars in what he thinks is his final moments? that he thought he wouldn't make it to homecoming, and that steph would live on knowing that she would carry the blood of her true love on her hands?

literally if max hadn't intervened, steph would've lost her soulmate. imagine how horrifying that is for her. she would've lost everyone important to her in one fell swoop. her family. her friends. her love. it would've broken her.

pete reeling up to throw what should've been a devastating right hook to protect steph, only to get knocked aside by max's otherworldly power

and then we get the absolute whiplash of grace fucking a ghost

SPEAKING OF WHICH bro!!! angela put her whole christianussy into that performance. grace knew she had one chance to seduce max into taking what she cherished most and she thought "welp. might as well open up all the repression i've shoved into this box"

"WHAT. THE FUCK. IS HHHAPPENING RIGHT NOW." you're watching the mating ritual of two toxic lesbians

thank god they didn't caption the sex noises because if i knew what grace and max were saying the whole time i'd be in shambles

steph + pete slowly looking over and breaking into a giant grin as grace gets NASTY with it is so funny to me. pete looks genuinely touched by the experience while steph is learning something new about herself

grace smoking her first cigarette immediately after boning down is so goofy to me

you can see the moment where steph and pete realize what grace did, even if it's out of frame in the proshot. steph whips around to look up at pete, while pete seems to stumble back a bit. when their faces are in frame again, they both look quietly concerned for grace, like they're trying to process what she gave up for their sake.

the shot of max looking up at the lights, eyes and makeup perfectly illuminated as he witnesses (what can only be) the true forms of the Lords In Black - creatures which he didn't even know existed, considering their involvement was very distant in max's resurrection... CHEF'S KISS

also the eyes-rolled-back exorcism of max is so fucking incredible actually??? very slay of him

CUTE TEACHER IS BACK!!! i love her she's so girlypop

cawwww caw! <3 <3 <3

THEY GOT TO GO TO HOMECOMING TOGETHER!!!!! <3

their little conspiratorial giggles as they scuttle away from shapiro i fucking LOVE THEM

grace is so evil in the intro to Best Of You i love that for her

BLINK 182 / OWL CITY AHH SONG <3 it's such a bop

not something i saw, but something i heard: the staged version where the lights went out after Best Of You being the "good" end is so cute actually! i love that the actors and tech people like to include alternate endings / stories based off of different actor portrayals and mishaps is such a fun way to provide variety for audiences

(for example: jon has mentioned he played Inevitable in TGWDLM two different ways. he either plays it like paul isn't infected, but is trying to convince emma to fake it with him so they don't get force-infected... or he plays it like paul is truly dead, and he's part of the hivemind. the proshot version of TGWDLM is a case of the latter, where paul truly was infected.)

grace tricking jason into kissing her on the cheek, only to punish him for it... girl you TOLD him to do that? bruh

i do stand for women's wrongs tho she's so slay for this

poor jason has a literal fear boner bc grace goes on her villain arc

the audience collectively going "OHHHHH" as they realize that grace is reprising the NPMD song is so insane

"darkness will spare my soul" GOES SO HARDDDDDD

[navegandoaciegas]

You think Lee would seize the chance when his wife's niece (not his side of the family) comes to visit? He's never met her, since the family moved out of knockemstiff many years ago. I mean, that beautiful, 21-year-old would look magnificent coming around his fat cock right? It's all he can think about, especially since his wife won't touch him anymore. And that perfect young thing is right under his roof.

changed it to friend’s daughter bc i checked and what you asked for is incest by marriage (at least in my country)

Married men do it better

Summary: You heard from your roommate that no one does it better than married men in their 40s, and you decide to test out her theories on your dad’s best friend (smut, explicit language, typos probably)

You looked like shit under the bright mirror lights of the bathroom, drenched in sweat and sleep deprived. The faucet twisted with a squeak, and you relished in the cold water that soothed your burning cheeks, neck and chest.

The night was restless, like most were when you spent them someplace other than your home or your dorm. You’d tossed and turned for hours in the single bed that the Bodeckers have provided you with, in the room that had been designed to be their child’s but had stayed barren. Then you’d gotten up, and tiptoed to the bathroom, careful not to wake Mrs Bodecker next door or your parents in the guest room downstairs.

You splashed more water on you, sighing in satisfaction. Blindly grabbing a towel on the rack next to you, you patted your face dry, standing straight.

And when you opened your eyes, another pair looked back at you in the mirror.

You jumped in suprise, but the scream that threatened to rip out of your throat was silenced by his rough hand clamping shut your mouth. You still bumped against the sink, rattiling the products on it, but luckily none of them fell to the linoleum floor.

Lee Bodecker stood behind you, so close that for a brief moment you wondered how you hadn’t sensed his presence before.

You knew he’d come look for you, for your sweet words and warm body, like he had all nights since you’d stayed at his place. You’d felt bold, that first night, and palmed his cock through his work uniform while your parents and his wife chatted in the kitchen.

It was easy, riling up a man who hadn’t been touched by his wife in years and hadn’t felt affection or sweet nothings whispered in his ears in even longer. And to be honest, he hadn’t put up much of a fight, too enamored with you, a young, sweet thing, all doe eyed and pouty lips.

You’d heard from your roommate that no one did it better than married men in their forties.

Those frat boys you both fooled around with didn’t even come close, and she’d slept with an older gentleman already, and you couldn’t let her be too smug about the fact that you hadn’t.

You’d have to try it too, and tell her all about it when you’d go back to Denver in August.

Until August, though, you’d let Lee Bodecker have his way with you all night, every night.

“Hush, baby girl,” he chuckled in your ear, eyes boring in yours through the mirror, “don’t wanna go wakin’ daddy dearest, hm? He’d kill us both.”

You shook your head, and giggled in his hand, pressing yourself flush against his chest. His belly was soft and pliant on your back, and underneath it you could feel his thick cock, already hard for you.

He groaned, and tightened the grip on your sides. “Already so eager, you little minx.”

“Always eager for you, Sheriff,” you said in the most sensual voice you could muster.

He didn’t look like the boys on the Varsity team, with his chubby cheeks and double chin, but it didn’t matter to you. You liked men in all shapes and forms but something about Lee’s body made your pussy throb, and your thighs clench.

“Good girl,” he mumbled in your hair, nuzzling his face right behind your ear, “Do you want me, hm? You all hot and bothered thinking about my cock all night? Thinkin’bout how I make your pussy cry for me?”

A whimper almost escaped your lips, and you clenched your thighs, memories of all the things he’d done to you flooding your mind. He’d fucked you harsh, and then soft, and then he’s stuck a thumb in your ass, a place where you’d never though about sticking anything in, and then shoved his cock all up your tight rim.

It hadn’t hurt, surprisingly. Much less than losing your virginity with a dumb teen boy underneath the school’s bleachers.

He’d eaten you out like a starved man, had had you ride his face, and then he’d stuck his cock so far down your throat that you’d almost passed out.

You were a wrecked, sobbing, sticky mess after each encounter.

“Please Sheriff, need you inside me, need your big fuckin’ cock in my cunt.”

He smirked, one hand traveling up to your breast, the other roaming down your thigh. “You got a mouth on you, darl’. Dirty little mouth on a dirty little slut like you,” he hummed, smiling against your skin.

His hands were rough and calloused, and they left shivers behind as they grazed you with gentle touches you wouldn’t expect from a man so big and harsh.

He touched you like you were made of the finest china, and sometimes when your mind wasn’t clouded by lust, you felt sorry for him. You pitied him, all alone in a cold house with a distant wife that you suspected was seeing other men behind his back and that made him sleep on the couch most nights.

You closed your eyes, shoving your bleeding heart in a corner of your mind, focusing on how good his hands felt as the pinched your nipples, how pleasant his lips were on your pulse point.

He bunched your drenched nightgown at your waist, growling when he noticed you weren’t wearing any undergarments. He dipped his fingers in your glistening folds, finding you soaked, leaking for him.

“Always so wet for me, princess, all for me?” he whimpered, rubbing his aching cock on your ass, eyes squeezed shut.

“Only for you, Lee,” you whined, hips rolling against his lenght, desperate to feel him inside you, to have him fill you up with his fat cock.

He played with your clit, rubbing circles on it while he crouched around you and sucked one of your nipples in his mouth. You stared at the scene in the mirror, your body twisted around his, your tits spilling out of your nightgown, the golden band around his fourth finger gleaming in the light.

Your pussy clenched hard around nothing.

“Fuck,” you moaned, bucking your hips behind you to rub the flesh of your ass against his raging hard on, “I can’t wait Lee, I need ya inside me, now.”

Lee chuckled, shoving his pyjamas pants down his thighs, his big, leaking cock standing to attention.

“Won’t even lemme taste you, darl’? That eager, hm?”

“Please,” you whined, spreading your legs apart to give him better access.

He teased you, rubbing his tip through your folds, coating it in your arousal. He slowly pushed himself past your entrance, stretching you with his girth, sheathing himself inside you with a broken moan.

He stilled, giving you time to adjust as you panted and winced.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ big, I’ll never get used to this,” you breathed, slowly circling your hips.

His cock hit all the right spots inside you, sending jolts of electricity down your spine. You felt the pressure build slow but steady in your cunt, as he slowly dragged his cock in and out of your cunt, relishing in the way your walls gripped him.

He clamped a hand over your mouth, shutting your moans up, and kept hammering his hips against your ass, the slapping of the soft flesh of his belly against your back the only sounds in the room.

He hauled one of your legs over his forearm, spreading you even further for him. He hit a new angle, a new nerve that threatened to break the dam in you core.

He thrusted deep inside you, and you watched from the mirror the slow drag of his cock disappearing in and out of your swollen cunt.

He was sweaty and out of breath and judging from the pained look on his face was trying hard to will back his pleasure and his moans.

One wrong move, one loud sound, and you’d wake someone in the house, who’d come check on you. If they did, they’d Lee pounding into you and you enjoying it like the cockdrunk whore you were.

That’s what he liked to remind you, and you nodded, lost in pleasure, feeling the warmth and pressure in your cunt become unbearable.

“Fuck, I can feel you clamp down on me, princess. Wanna feel you cum baby, come all over my fuckin’ cock, I know you can do it.”

He doubled his efforts, rubbing your clit and pummelling inside you.

The thought that your parents could catch you made you dizzy, but the idea of his wife walking in on you pushed you over the edge.

You were glad for the hand on your mouth as you came, screams muffled. You gushed over the sink, and you both watched through lidded eyes the pressure in your cunt snap, knot unraveling, his cock slipping out of you with your release, just in time for him to paint your legs and the floor with his hot spurt.

You were both spent and satisfied, and you turned around, lazily throwing your arms aroud his neck. The kiss you shared was sweet and sated.

He tasted like lemon drops on your tongue.

You pulled back, adjusting the nightgown over your tits.

“My roommate was right,” you hummed, pecking his lips and brushing past him.

“About?” he questioned, brow quirking.

“Married men really do it better..”

He turned around to say something, anything really, but you were gone already, leaving behind the sweet scent of you hair and an enraptured Lee.

-

Sorry for the typos. I’m writing from my phone.

I hope you liked this. Please reblog and leave some feedback. I love reading your comments, and they’re my biggest motivation ⭐️❤️

[toxophilitis]

The Preacher’s Hot Family

CHAPTER TWO

The next day was Saturday and Tammy was sitting on her front steps, unable to think about anything except what she'd seen in her mother's bedroom the day before. As she stared across the street at Blane Moffat's house, the girl's panties became soaked with the hot juices that were dripping from her pussy. Unable to get the memory of the man's big cock out of her mind, she suddenly noticed Bill Moore and Tony Marlow walking down the street with their baseball bat and gloves. They were two of Tammy's friends who lived just around the corner.

"Hi, Tammy," grinned Bill as they walked up to where she was sitting on the steps.

"Hello," she smiled, her big tits pushing out against the front of her sweater.

"What are you doing?" asked Tony.

"Nothin'."

"Do you have time to jack us off?" whispered Bill, thinking this would be more fun than baseball.

"Sure," she giggled. "As long as you finger-fuck me."

"Where will we go?" asked Tony.

"My folks are gone," she said. "So no one could see us out in my back yard."

Five minutes later, they were in the back yard and the two horny teens were standing bare-assed naked in front of Tammy, their stiff cocks standing out.

"We can't stay too long," panted Tony. "We have to go to baseball practice."

"I'll hurry," Tammy giggled, pulling her sweater off as her big full tits spilled out in front of the teens' excited eyes.

She pulled her jeans down over her slim hips, and then wriggled out of her juice-soaked panties. She was completely naked, and a thin milky stream of hot cunt juice was dribbling down the flesh of her inner thighs.

Tony began unconsciously rubbing his stiff prick as he stared at the slippery juices oozing out from between her passion-swollen cuntlips. He could hardly wait to screw his finger around in her hot pussy.

"Who's first?" she giggled.

"Me!" they both shouted in unison. "Who was first last time?" she asked. "I was," grinned Tony. "Okay," Tammy said. "Then I'll do Bill first."

Bill quickly spread himself out on the grass. His hard prick was pointing straight up in the air. Kneeling beside him, Tammy wrapped her soft fingers around his boner, the thrill of feeling his hard cock sending a sudden spurt of pussy juice out of her dripping pussy.

Sliding the foreskin up and down over his quivering cockhead, she could vividly see her mother's lips sucking on Blane Moffat's big hard prick. Without even thinking, she lowered her head and flicked the tip of her tongue across Bill's swollen prick-knob.

"Jesus!" he panted. "What the fuck are you doin'?"

"Licking your cock," she giggled. "Jeez," the young man said. "I never heard of anyone doin' that to a guy's pisser."

"Lots of people do it," Tammy said. "I can even jack you off with my mouth."

"You can?"

"Sure," grinned the girl, her pussy itching with excitement. "D'ya want me to jack you off with my mouth?"

"How can you do that?" he asked, completely confused by what the girl was saying and doing.

"I can make you squirt jizz by sucking on your prick," she explained. "And it even feels better."

"No shit?" he gasped, having never heard of a blow-job.

"No shit," Tammy giggled. "Wanta try it?"

"Hell, yes," he grinned, thinking it might be fun.

Moving down between his legs, she lowered her mouth toward his stiff prick.

"Tony," she said to the other teen, "why don't you finger-fuck my pussy while I suck Bill off?"

"Okay," he said, kneeling behind her upturned ass and thrusting his middle finger deeply into the hot, mushy flesh of her horny cunt.

"Mmmmmmmmm, that feels good," she whispered. "Now finger-fuck me good."

Leaning over and brushing her softly parted lips over the head of Bill's cock, she was thrilled by the pungent male aroma and the taste of his prick. Happy that his prick was a strange but good flavor, she began swirling her hot wet tongue all over the sensitive surface of his cockhead. Seeing the excited expression on Bill's face, she gave him a naughty smile and began running her tongue up and down the entire length of his tasty cock.

"Jeez, Tammy!" gasped the teen. "I've never felt anything so fuckin' good in my life."

She could feel his body jerking and his prick swelling and throbbing as she continued teasing her wet tongue around the base of his cockknob. Then, slowly lowering her lips, she took all of his spit-soaked cockhead into her hot mouth. She could hear him whimpering with joy as her soft lips closed over his swollen prick. Tightening her lips around the base of his cock, she kept his cock securely inside her hotly sucking mouth. Now she knew why her mom had enjoyed sucking Blane off so much. There was something about the texture and taste of a prick that was just out of this world.

Sucking excitedly on his cock, the horny girl could hardly wait to find out what his cum would taste like. If the flavor was anything like that of his prick, she knew she would love his jism.

"Oh, shit!" gasped Bill, staring down at his stiff fucker buried in the girl's hot sucking mouth.

"D'ya like it?" she giggled, momentarily removing her mouth from his prick.

"God, yes!" he panted. "But I'm gonna shoot off in a minute."

"That's what I want you to do," she said. "Give me a nice big mouthful of jizz!"

"Do you really want me to shoot my gooey jizz into your mouth?"

"Sure," she laughed. "Why do you think. I'm suckin' your cock?"

"Okay," he grinned. "If that's what you want."

Once more lowering her mouth down over his prick, she could feel Tony's finger fucking in and out of her tingling cunt slit at an ever increasing speed. The quiet morning air was broken only by the wet slurping sound of her lips sucking noisily on his prick and the squishing of Tony's finger fucking in and out of her hotly dripping cunt.

Feeling his throbbing cock sliding back and forth over her tongue, Tammy hoped she was doing it right. She knew how disappointed he would be if she couldn't bring him off in her mouth. Bobbing her head up and down, she was taking his prick deeper and deeper until she could feel his smooth cocktip nudging at the back of her throat. Every time she raised up, her lips sucked and pulled on his sensitive cockshaft, making his cock tingle with excitement.

"Suck, Tammy, suck!" he cried out, almost out of his mind with the intense ecstasy of her wildly sucking mouth working on his cock. Frantically grasping at her tousled blonde hair, he began pumping her head up and down over his quivering prickshaft.

"Suck it, Tammy! Suck it!" he moaned, his lurching hips driving his cock in and out of her mouth. His breath was coming in short hot gasps, and his fingers were curled in her hair, pushing her mouth down tighter over his jerking fuck-rod.

"Suck, for shit's sake, suck!" he shouted, almost out of his mind from the wild rapture. "I'm almost there! Oh, shit, almost there!"

Tammy was as wildly aroused as he was. Tony's finger-fucking was bringing her closer and closer to a climax as she continued sucking on Bill's hot boner.

"Ooooooooh, shiiiiiiit!" cried Bill, grasping her head again and slamming her mouth down over his cum-spurting cockhead. "I'm shootin'! I'm shootin'!"

For the first time in her life, the girl felt hot jizz splattering at the back of her throat. His cum was thick, slippery and stringy, but so good. She sucked and swallowed frantically as spurt after spurt of the delicious cock cream shot out of his jerking prick. Her mouth was still filling up with his cum when the thrilling friction of Tony's finger-fucking brought her to a wild orgasm.

When the intense climax finally ended, she collapsed on Bill's limp body, his soft dripping prick still in her mouth.

"Shit," panted the teen. "That was really neat. How did my jizz taste?"

"I love it," she grinned, licking the milky film of cum from her slippery lips.

"Is it my turn now?" asked Tony, pulling his juice-soaked finger from the wet hotness of her tight pussy.

"It sure is," she grinned.

The girl had really enjoyed the way he had finger-fucked her. But after seeing her mother with Blane, Tammy knew she needed something more than a finger in her cunt.

"Tony," she said excitedly, "have you ever fucked a girl?"

"God, no."

"Would you like to fuck me?" Tammy asked.

"Gee, I dunno." He hesitated. "I wouldn't know... how to do it."

"Me either," she giggled, thinking about Blane's big cock in her mother's pussy. "But we sure as hell can try."

"Do you think I should?" Tony asked Bill. "Hell, yes," grinned Bill, excitedly licking his lips. "I sure would if I had a hard-on."

"Come on," whispered Tammy, rolling onto her back as she lewdly opened her legs for him. "It'll be fun."

Staring down between her widely spread legs, Tony could see her open cuntlips dripping with pussy juices. Her slippery cunt looked so inviting that he could hardly wait to stick his cock in it.

"Okay," he grinned, dropping to his knees between her legs.

"Oh, Tony," she panted, taking his stiff boner in her hand. "I can't believe we're really gonna fuck."

The girl's trembling fingers guided his throbbing cock toward her dripping cunt slit. She shuddered with excitement when she felt his hard prick against the juicy opening of her slippery cunt.

Bracing his hands on the lawn, Tony eased his hips forward, forcing the head of his cock up between her hot juicy cuntlips.

"Ooooooh, Tony," she whimpered, feeling his prick fucking into her tight pussy. She hadn't expected his prick to feel so big and hard in her pussy, and she grasped him tightly in her arms to keep him from fucking in any deeper.

"Don't move," she whispered. "Just hold still for a minute."

Grasping him tightly in her arms, Tammy was hoping the awful pain would go away. When her tense body began to relax, the girl could feel the discomfort slowly fading. Carefully raising her hips, she grasped his taut asscheeks and slowly pulled his cock a bit deeper into her virginal fuck-hole. As his cock slowly worked up through her tight hot cuntal passage, the initial pain of his penetration seemed to disappear completely, leaving her with a delightful feeling of fullness.

"Oh, Tony," she whispered when her cunt had taken the full length of his throbbing prick. "I think we're gonna like this."

Feeling the soft hotness of her juicy pussy squeezing his hard fuck-tool, the teen remained perfectly still, luxuriating in the hot depths of her fuck-hole. With his prick in a girl's pussy for the first time in his life, the feel of her moist hot cunt flesh squeezing around his boner felt fantastic to the teen. The entire length of his cock was tingling wildly. Tony had often fantasized about fucking when he jacked off, but in his wildest imagination, he had never dreamed that a cunt could feel so fucking good.

The teen thought he would blow his mind when Tammy began rotating her ass beneath him while her cuntlips squeezed and sucked on to base of his deeply buried cockshaft. Unable to control himself, the teen began fucking his stiff cock in and out of the girl's tight cunt slit.

"Mmmmmmm," she whimpered, wrapping her legs around his waist. "This feels so good. Jesus, I love to fuck."

Pounding his brand new hard-on, Bill was excitedly watching his friend as he fucked his cock in and out of Tammy's slippery pussy. The expressions on their lust-distorted faces told him how much they were enjoying the fucking. Their naked bodies were writhing hotly together as his friend's hard cock fucked in and out of the squealing girl's juicy pussy. The nipples of Tammy's big tits were rubbing against Tony's bare chest. Bill began beating his meat even harder as he watched the expression on Tammy's face. Her eyes were rolled back, her soft moist lips parted, and she was moaning passionately as her head flopped from side to side. Bill could hardly wait for his buddy to finish fucking so he could ram his own hard cock up Tammy's pussy.

Clinging tightly to each other, the teens were fucking up a storm as Tony drove his virile prick in and out of her squeezing, milking cunt slit at an increasing tempo. This being the first time that either of the girls had ever experienced such intense pleasure, they were both squealing with joy. His balls were slapping against the juice-smeared cheeks of her bare ass as his hard prick drove into her tight fuck-hole.

"Oh, Tony!" she squealed as she fucked back at him for all she was worth. "We're really fuckin', honey! We're really fuckin'!"

"I know! I know!" he gasped, fucking his cock harder and deeper into her hot juicy pussy. "I've never felt anything so shittin' good in my life!"

"It's so good!" she sobbed. "Just keep fuckin' me forever!"

On and on they fucked, neither of them able to comprehend the intense rapture they were feeling. The ecstasy was so overwhelming that they couldn't fully understand what was happening to them. With every fuck-thrust of his prick, this newfound ecstasy was building.

"Oh, shit! Oh, fuck!" she shrieked as his driving cock slowly turned her writhing body into a mass of molten lust. "I can't believe it! I can't believe it can be so fuckin' good!"

"You better believe it," he gasped. "We really are fuckin'."

"I know! I know!" she squealed, writhing her frothy cunt slit up tighter around the base of his plunging prick. The top ridge of his hard cock was rubbing against her tingling clit, sending sparks of ecstasy to every nerve in her body. The wild fucking was almost more than she could stand, yet she wanted more and more fucking.

Bill was still stroking his hard-on as he watched his friend's stiff fucker zipping in and out between Tammy's slippery pussylips. He could see that the aroused blonde was almost out of her mind as she squealed, thrashed and bucked under Tony. God, how Bill wished it was his own cock fucking in and out of her cunt. The entire length of his friend's boner was coated with the juices that were flowing out of Tammy's cock-squeezing pussy. Bill could see the girl's hot juicy cuntlips sucking and grasping at the sensitive flesh of his friend's prick, and he could vicariously feel her cuntlips squeezing against his own tingling cock.

"Fuck, Tony, fuck!" shrieked Tammy, the intense ecstasy building up in her steaming loins. "Fuck harder, Tony! Don't ever stop!"

Unaware of what he was doing, the inexperienced teen raised his hips a bit, and his cock set up a friction against her clit that was unbelievable. His cock was sawing deliciously against her hard clit, almost blowing the girl's mind.

"Oh, God!" she screamed. "Oh, my God! Eeeeeeegggggghhh!"

"Does it hurt? Should I stop?" Tony asked.

"No! No! Don't stop!" she squealed. "Just keep fuckin'!"

Tony was enjoying his first piece of ass. In his wildest dreams, he had never imagined that fucking could feel this fantastic.

"Fuck, Tony, fuck!" whimpered Tammy, clutching him tighter in her arms. "Fuck me good, Tony! Fuck it to me!"

The unbelievable pleasure was so intense that Tammy felt as if her body might explode. She was so carried away by her wild passions that she didn't even realize the shrill screams she was hearing were coming from her own throat.

Suddenly, she felt Tony's hot jizz gushing up into her belly. The strange feel of his hot cum spewing out against the slippery walls of her cunt triggered her very first cock-induced climax.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" she shrieked, her legs waving crazily in the air. "I'm coming! Oh, God! Oh, God! I'm coming all over your beautiful cock! Ooooooooh, I'm coming! Coming!"

Clutching him tightly in her arms, she was floating on a cloud of ecstasy as his prick continued pumping her pussy full of jizz.

"Oh, Tony," she whimpered, covering his mouth with her hot open lips as she passionately sucked on his tongue. "That was so fuckin' good!"

Unable to stand it any longer, Bill pulled his friend off the girl's naked body.

"Hi," Tammy giggled when she saw Bill crawling up between her legs. "Are you gonna fuck me, too?"

"You bet I am!" he panted, guiding his throbbing cock toward her cum-drenched pussy.

"That's good," she giggled. "I want you to just fuck the shit out of me."

Placing the head of his cock against her cum-soaked cunt, Bill lunged forward, driving the length of his fuck-tool deep into her scalding pussy.

"Ooooooh. Bill!" she moaned when he began fucking his hard cock in and out. "I think fucking's the neatest thing in the whole world."

When the teens had finally gone and Tammy lay exhausted on the back lawn, she glanced up and saw her Uncle Will staring at her through the kitchen window. He was her father's oldest brother who lived only a few blocks away and often dropped in unannounced.

As Tammy hurriedly put her clothes back on, her uncle walked out into the yard where she was.

"That was the most disgusting thing I've ever seen," the man said with perspiration standing out on his bald head. "And you're the daughter of a fine preacher!"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears of shame welling up in her eyes. "But please don't tell my father."

"I don't know what I'm going to do," he said, turning to leave. "I'm going to think it over tonight and I want you to come over to my house right after church tomorrow. By then I'll have made up my mind what to do about it."

[bagelbright-tok]

Take Me to Funkytown!

____   

Yellow Temperance proves to be a great enemy to Jotaro. Without much of an aid there to assist the teen, he hasn’t much of a choice but to fight for his life. After trying to burn and freeze temperance off of his finger, hope is lost. At least, until an odd individual dances their way into the fight. Ally or enemy? Temperance and Jotaro are unsure.

Jotaro x fem!Reader [Platonic One-shot]

Italics = the music

Word Count: 1,564 Warning(s): Violence, swearing, negligence, bit of social isolation, intense grooving, swearing again, gross horny man tries hitting on reader, I did not re-read __ Blame It on the Boogie! __

You were mostly just touring Singapore for your own personal reasons. You had nothing else to do and you got bored quickly. So, you packed your bags and left for Singapore. You had the essentials; clothes, personal hygiene products, and your Walkman cassette player and headphones. The flights over were smooth as could be. Not like you noticed much anyhow. Most of the time, you had your headphones on, listening to the several cassettes you also had brought in your bag. Since you’d left, you’d made 0 social interactions with other humans. That didn’t bother you in the least. You didn’t necessarily care much for making friends along the way. In fact, you dreaded when people would talk to you. They were annoying, quite frankly. So you would drown out the voices with your music. The only problem was that you would get sick of listening to the same songs over and over again. The perks of traveling were being able to try out new music from places around the world.

Your thoughts were mostly blank while you peered out of the train window at the city you were approaching. “Hey pretty lady~!”

A man’s voice quickly pierced the air around you. But you couldn’t hear him over your loud music. He noticed that quickly and took this as a sign to sit right next to you. “What’s a girl like you sitting all by yourself?”

You scooted away from him once you noticed he had sat next to you. Your smiling expression quickly turned into a frustrated one. You couldn’t hear the man, but his presence alone made you uncomfortable. You became infuriated when you felt his hand remove your headphones. “C’mon girl, don’t-”

You didn’t let him finish as you summoned your Stand, and sent it lunging at the man. Your Stand, Ace’s Wand, representing the tarot card Ace of Wands, was a Stand with the form that could vary depending on your mood and the sounds in the air. With you angry without music, your Stand took on a horrifying form that you could barely comprehend. The noises it made as well were scary. All you could see was the body of the annoying man getting flung like a ragdoll. His body was crumpled like a piece of paper on the other end of the train.

You scoffed, grabbed your headphones, and returned to your position. Your music continued and your site seeing went on. Everyone was scared and confused as they surrounded the man in concern. “Won’t you take me to Funkytown?” You bobbed your head to the beat while everyone whispered in a hushed and terrified tone.

***

The train ride turned into a cableway ride. You sat in a cable car with a man, his kid, and their dog. The kid happily snacked on his popsicle as he enjoyed the view from the car. You were doing the same, except you were listening to your music instead of snacking on a popsicle. Looking out the window, you noticed a guy on a cylindrical shaped building that was tall enough to reach the height of the cable car. It was an odd sight for sure, you even gave him a confused squint. You noticed his sights landing on your cable car. You blinked a couple of times. Your eyes quickly widened when you saw him back up, then charge forth towards your car.

“Oh shit!” You whispered loudly. The teen landed on the car and clutched to the side you had been viewing from. You noticed a purple figure emerge from him and rip the door off the car. Things only got weirder. The man peered at you, then turned his attention to the kid with the popsicle. 

“Hey kid, I am gonna need to use this.” The kid began to cry until the teen spoke again, “Alright, I’ll buy you a new popsicle when we reach the ground.”

The kid nodded, and the tall teen rose back to his height. Your headphones had been knocked off during the impact of the teen crashing into the car. You hardly noticed, even hearing the teen talk and hearing yourself talk. “Whoa! What an entrance! What the hell are you doing?” You blurted out.

“Is this your kid, lady?” The black haired teen asked.

“What? Hell no.”

“Then shut up and enjoy the view.”

Your brows furrowed at that statement. It was of annoyance, but then it turned into confusion when you noticed the yellow blob on the teen’s hand. Just what was going on? You could only ask this as the teen pressed the cold treat onto the yellow substance, wincing in pain in the process as the gross yellow jello spiked and stabbed into his hand. Things only escalated when another presence began to enter the cable car through the door that the teen had rudely ripped off. The presence was similar to the substance on the teenager’s hand, except larger and with another person inside.

“Can’t you get it through your thick skull?” The deep male voice spoke in a taunting manner that sent shivers down your own spine. “My Stand, Yellow Temperance, is indestructible! No matter how much power you may have, you cannot beat my Stand!”

Well shit. It means you’ve found yourself in a Stand battle. You found yourself even more infuriated than before on the train. The black haired teen referred to as Jotaro had ripped a pole from the car and tried to swing it at Yellow Temperance. It wasn't just Jotaro, though. It was his Stand, a large purple humanoid entity that was clearly fast and strong. Angered, you put on your headphones and stood up. It was as the Stand projected itself onto Jotaro and the cable car that things got weird.

Jotaro and the user of Yellow Temperance were now looking at you. Your expression was scrunched up and you could feel the heat rising. With the beat of your music, you had better control of your Stand. "Don't blame it on the sunshine!"

You moved with the rhythm and summoned your Stand without further comment. "Don't blame it on the moonlight."

"Holy shit!" Temperance's user yelled in horror as his eyes laid on your Stand. You could barely make that out with your music as loud as it is.

"What the hell!" Jotaro also exclaimed, but not as loud. Based on Temperance's reaction, it clued him in on the fact that you are clearly not with him. A relief, but also, you aren't with the Joestars.

"Don't blame it on the good times." Just as Temperance was about to latch onto you, you sent out your Stand first. "Blame it on the-!" "BOOGIE!" Your Stand screeched as it went up against the yellow Stand.

The enemy user only screamed as he witnessed your Stand vigorously and aggressively stabbing and digging through his sludge. Even while your Stand could make contact with his, it couldn't be said that the situation could be switched around. Your Stand's form was horrifying in itself, but the idea that his Stand with no weaknesses couldn't touch your Stand was just as terrifying. 

Jotaro realized the opportunity he had now. The enemy had even panicked and removed his Stand from Jotaro. He wasn't even paying attention to Jotaro anymore. You knew why. The fear was overwhelming. You are the greater threat at the moment to him. You bore your eyes into Jotaro, telling him to make his move if he wants it. Your Stand was slowly making its way closer and closer to the user with its claws. Just as your Stand was about to make it to the enemy, with him sobbing, Jotaro used his Stand's fist to punch the user and knock him unconscious. Your Ace's Wand stopped mere inches away from The Temperance card holder. Your Stand emitted a sickly wheeze of laughter before being de-manifested. You were still grooving to the song, though.

"This magic music grooves me! That dirty rhythm moves me! The devil's gotten to me through this dance!"

Jotaro was unsure of how to communicate with you. That uncertainty was cleared up, though, when you yourself removed your ear buds and spoke.

"Hey! Jotaro right?" You chuckled, pointing at him. Jotaro nodded, knowing you had caught his name in the fight. "That was pretty cool. We should do that again sometime."

"What?" Is all Jotaro could murmur in confusion as response to your suggestion.

"I'm [Y/N] [L/N]." Your pointing finger turned into an open palm hand to shake Jotaro's. "I'm a Stand user, too. Not like.." You looked down at the unconscious and shirtless man at your feet. "...him, though. I'm cool, like you."

Jotaro hated women who fawned over him. Most of the female students who crowded him referred to him as "cool," as well. Hearing you say it, though, was different. It wasn't of lust or love like those ladies at school. It was of genuine friendship and curiosity.

"That's.. Great." Jotaro said, extending his hand out and shaking yours. "Hey, I have a question…"

"Go ahead and shoot!" You shook his hand and returned yours to your side.

"Could you join us on our mission to Egypt?" Jotaro is well versed in being blunt and very straightforward. Not that you would know that.

You paused and processed what he had said. " "Our...?" Mission..? Egypt!?"

___

E N D.

A/N: AAAA! This has been sitting in my docs for sooo long! I had no idea where to take it and how to end it. Finally figured it out though! Apologies if it seems rushed or half-assed. This one is very similar to the In With A Bang one-shot. Introducing a character in that fashion. Also, In With A Bang has reached over 100 notes!! That's fuckin bonkers! Please go give it a read if you haven't! I promise it's better than this one, lol!

[pressedinthepages]

Nestle

YOU GUYS. I just hit 400 followers here on the tumble machine. I cannot thank you guys enough for your love and support and allowing me to explore this side of my creativity with you <3 To celebrate, I asked some of my friends in @continentcakeshop to give me pairings to go with a short list of prompts. So over the next little while, I will be posting 6 fics to fill those prompts!

For Prompt #5, we have “You're comfy“ for @hungarianbee <33

Relationship: Letho/Eskel

Rating: Teen

Content Warnings: none! just soft fluff :) it is modern au, though

Summary: Eskel can't sleep, so he seeks out someone who can help.

Eskel sighed and rested his head on the door to the apartment. It was the middle of the night and he had driven almost the entire way across town just to get cold feet at the threshold. His turmoil was interrupted by the sudden buzzing of his phone in his pocket, two short bursts before falling still once more. He fished around and pulled it in front of his face, the screen lit up with a new message notification.

Gonna come in or just stand there lookin all sad?

He rolled his eyes and took a deep centering breath before turning the knob and stepping into the dark apartment, making sure to lock the door behind him. The low glow of a lamp from the back room led Eskel’s steps until he stood in the doorway, wordlessly looking in to the entire mountain of a man in the bed.

“What’s eatin’ at ya, pup?” Letho grumbled from the dark, pushing himself up to rest his weight on one elbow.

Eskel sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Can’t sleep.”

“And I’m the fix for that because…?”

“‘Cause you’re comfy, dammit. Gonna send me packin’?” Eskel groused, already spinning on the ball of his foot to careen back out of the apartment.

Letho sat up fully, “Now why would I do that? Big handsome man invites himself into my house for a cuddle. ‘D be an idiot to turn you away. C’mon.”

He held up the soft flannel sheet, an invitation. Eskel shuffled to the edge of the bed and kicked off his shoes, “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Lettin’ in all the cold air, just fuckin’ get in here,” Letho chuckled, flapping the blanket in Eskel’s direction.

“Alright, alright,” Eskel smiled, sliding into the bed and feeling the warm sheet rest atop his chest. He laid there, stiff, his arms crossed on his chest and legs straight out on the mattress. “Letho?”

“Hmm?”

“C-“ Eskel cleared his throat, mentally hitting himself on the forehead for being such a needy Nellie. “Could we? Cuddle, I mean?”

Letho laughed, the bastard, before reaching over and slinging his entire arm around Eskel’s middle and scooting as close as he could. Eskel immediately relaxed in Letho’s arms, interlocking their fingers together as he felt his heart finally slow into a relaxing rhythm.

“Feelin’ any better, pup?” Letho’s voice was thick with sleep, his eyes already drooping.

“Yeah, much. Thank you, Letho.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go tellin’ your little wolf. He’ll be over here at all hours lookin’ for cuddles. ‘S an Eskel exclusive.”

Eskel was glad the lights were out to hide his blush, but he did shimmy around to better wrap himself in Letho’s arms. “Deal.”

[stevesharrlngtons]

wherever i’m going -- i’m taking you with me.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: you run through roman’s dreams nightly, but this time it’s different. this time it’s an omen where you dawn a white dress with blood pouring for your mouth, your body ripped to shred. and this time peter sees it too.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: kinda short for me, i hope that’s ok! got a couple of other stories in the works tho. but, i really hope you enjoy! 

“I gotta run,” You said as you stood from the couch in the Godfrey’s sitting room. 

Roman let out a childish groan as he deflated into the stiff cushions, lanky limbs melting across the furniture like a Dali clock. 

“No, you don’t. At least stay for one more episode?” 

“I promised I’d have dinner with my mom before she has to go in to work graveyard tonight.” You reply, gathering your discarded sweater and shoes and redressing in them. 

“Come on,” Roman practically whines, reaching out with his foot to hook you around the back of your knee, “One more episode.” 

You turn to give him a reprimanding look, a look that was utterly ineffective as a smile threatened to form on your lips. 

“Shelley, can you please call him off?” You look over your shoulder toward the younger Godfrey, holed up in an armchair with a grin. 

“He’s not used to hearing no.” She typed out and you snort. 

“Some help you are!” Shelley just giggled. 

“Yeah,” Roman pushed himself up with a grunt, quickly snaking his arms around your waist, “I’m not used to hearing no. Let’s not start today, yeah?” 

You looked down at him, his chin resting against your abdomen while he gazed up at you with his most convincing puppy eyes. 

You move your hands to hold his cheeks, squeezing them together causing his lips to pout, “Everyone’s right, you are a brat.” 

You lean down and peck his pursed mouth, “Walk me to my car?”

Roman gives a heavy sigh in defeat, collapsing back into the couch for a moment before begrudgingly getting up, making the movement seem like a great effort. 

“You owe me,” He responds in a grumble. 

“Oh, of course,” You reply dramatically as you walk over and give Shelley a chaste kiss to the forehead in goodbye. 

Roman waits for you by the door for you to finish your farewells with his sister, then leads you outside. 

At your car, you toss your bag through the open window into the passenger seat, then lean against the door to look up at Roman. 

“I think you should just move in here, you’re over enough.” He comments, placing his hands on your hips. 

“I’m sure our mother’s would love that,” You counter swiftly. 

“Fuck my mom,” Roman says, “And yours, well she could finally travel like she’s always wanted.” 

“So what? I’m just the dead weight holding her back?” 

“Oh c’mon, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” Roman sighs, moving closer to you. 

You stay quiet, letting him squirm a bit. You knew he meant nothing by his comment, nothing more than a desperate search for you to agree to his offer. 

“I would, but I’d only be giving into your spoiled-rich-boy complex. I can’t do that. I have to be the one to teach you hard work and perseverance. I want you to turn out to be a well rounded young man.” 

The scowl that overtook Roman’s face made you burst into giggles. 

“Fuck that, and you for saying it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” You say, giggles dying down as you lean up to give him a kiss. A longer one to appease him, “I’ll call you later, OK?” 

“OK,” Roman says breathlessly to your lips, “Love you.” 

“Love you, too.” And you pulled away from him. 

Parting from Roman was always a five minute process, or longer. Because he would kiss you deeper, and beg for one more, and whisper sweet words and begs for you to stay, trying your resolve each and every time. Tonight was no different. You finally left the Godfrey grounds seven minutes later with swollen lips and the beginning of a love bite on your neck. 

You ran through a field of grass and wildflowers. Looking over your shoulder with a wide smile and echoing giggles. 

“Catch me! Faster! Before I fall! Catch me, Roman!” Your voice carried far and wide. 

The dress you adorned was white, gauzy, and thin. Roman could see the hazy outline of your body beneath the fabric, your soft curves shining through as the sun basked you in it’s buttery glow. The world was saturated in warm tones and smelled like fresh laundry on his skin.

“Please, Ro! Catch me! I’m going to trip!” Your melodic voice begged, as you remained just out of arm's length.

Roman ran as fast as he could, panting and heaving as he tried to keep up with your light feet. His fingers would dust the fabric of your dress, feel the fibers and loose threads on his nails, but he could never get close enough to wrap you his grasp and capture you. He tumbled through the tall grass and felt a distinct tightness in his chest of yearning and fear. He just wanted to reach you. 

As he continued the chase, Roman’s legs began to feel utterly heavy and stiff. A smattering of pins and needles danced under his skin and began to numb his extremities. It felt like he was pushing through water and running through sand. When he looked down to his feet, suddenly he was. He was encased in thick slimy sand and he could barely move. 

“Roman?” Your voice was far away and trembling. 

Roman snapped his head back up to look at you, still in your field of wildflowers and fragile gown. 

“Roman, please, it’s going to happen…” You were suddenly crying, your face streaked with tears that left unforgiving wet trails over your delicate skin. 

“I won’t! I won’t!” Roman calls, trying to dig himself from the swallowing sand. 

“Baby… it hurts,” You whimper and groan and Roman watches as you reach down to clutch your stomach. Your crisp white dress now swathed with red. 

A long, jagged cut marred your abdomen, blood pouring out of you like rushing water. 

“No!” Roman screams, chanting the word until his throat was thick and hoarse.

You hiccup, and heavy currents of dark crimson drip past your lips. Your sputtering as the blood splatters your once spotless face, freckling your draining cheeks as a new outpour of blood furthers to ruin your dress. 

Roman claws at the sand sucking him under, the little particles cutting into his fingers like shards of glass as he continues his tireless efforts to escape. 

He watches as you stare at the blood in question, trying to push it back into your jutting abdomen wound fruitlessly, only managing to push more out. 

“Stay right there, I’m coming! I’m coming!” Roman shouts, but the sand has sucked him down despite his best efforts and is up to his chin. The sun was so bright now, it was beginning to blinding him. 

“No, you’re not.” You say with blood painted lips, teeth slimy with cardinal colors and sickly browns. 

Roman tries to shout again, only for the sand to begin to enter his mouth and fill his lungs, before it engulfs him completely. 

Roman shot awake, slick with sweat and an intense weighing heat covering every inch of his body. 

His eyes stung with unshed tears as he scrambled to reach his phone on his nightstand. It told him it was just after two in the morning before he dials your number. 

With his trembling hand to his ear, he listens to the incessant ring and waits for you to answer. 

But the phone just rings, and rings and rings. And Roman swallows down the bile that raises in his throat as he gets your voicemail. 

He calls back immediately, listening to the endless tone with shallow breaths. Once more, he gets your voicemail. 

“Fuck!” Roman shouts, his voice carrying in the silent bedroom. 

He starts to kick away his blankets and press your contact once more, when his phone buzzes. He doesn’t hesitate to answer. 

“Hello? Baby?” Roman gasps. 

“No, it’s uh, it’s me.” The voice on the other end isn’t yours, but Peter’s. 

“Peter, dear fucking -- did you have it? Did you see her?” Roman asks, his voice frenzied. 

“Yeah, I… I needed to call and see if she was with you. But I guess not.” 

And Roman starts to hyperventilate. He tries to gulp in as much air as he can, but his lungs are tight and constricted with tears and terror. 

“Peter, she’s next. No, no, no, no, no! Fuck! This isn’t happening, this can’t be happening!” Sobs wracked his body as Peter did his best to calm him. 

“Hey, hey! Calm down, alright? She’s probably just fine.” 

Probably, probably, probably. 

But not definitely. 

Roman’s mind began to churn out pictures of your pretty little face on the news next to Brooke Bluebell and Lisa Willoughby. A newscaster reciting your name mournfully and telling the world that you were the latest victim of this horrific animal prowling after young girls in a sleepy Pennsylvania town. 

“She’s not answering, Peter! She’s not fucking answering her phone. She’s not -- fuck!” Roman could barely get the words out. 

Your face in print, the ink smudging and transferring to the pads of Roman’s fingers from the amount of times he strokes your still features. Perfect and frozen in time. The headline saying something about another teen dead. Another beautiful girl with so much potential… torn from the world and limb from limb.

“Calm down, Roman! We need to find her, OK? I’m sure she’s just asleep and didn’t hear her phone. Let’s find her before we have a fuckin’ melt down, yeah?” 

“Yeah, yeah, Ok, yeah.” Roman nods, running a tense hand through his hair. 

“So, why don’t you sit tight and I’ll go over to her house and bring her to you?” 

“No!” Roman shouts, “No! I’m going, she needs me.” 

Roman stands from his bed and rushes around his room to gather any discarded clothing he could find crumpled on the ground or splayed over the back of a chair. 

“Roman, let’s just think about this for a minute. You’re worried, stressed out of your mind, you’re not thinking straight. You’re gonna fuckin’ crash your car if you drive like this.” Peter tries to reason. 

Roman scoffs, “I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re really not,” Peter lets out a humorless chuckle. 

“Yeah, y’know what? You’re right, I’m fucking not,” Roman spits. 

He’s running down the stairs in a mismatched outfit in a search for his car keys, “I’ll be fine when I see she’s OK.” 

Roman hangs up his phone before Peter can argue anymore.

When Roman gets to your house, he doesn't waste time knocking. He just picks up the trick rock in the front flowerpot to retrieve the spar key from inside it, and storms into your house. He barely remembers to shut the door behind him. 

“(Y/N)! Baby!” Roman calls, searching around for any signs of disturbance or foul play. 

He bounds up your staircase, frantically calling for you all the while. When he reaches your bedroom, he plows his way through the door without ceremony. His grip warping the thin gold plated knob, fingers molding into the cheap tin with worried fury.

You shot up from your mattress when Roman burst in with a shriek, clutching your chest as Roman stood dumbfounded in your doorway. 

“Jesus Christ, Roman! What the hell? You just about gave me a heart attack! Fuck,” You let out a loud breath and fell against your pillows, sucking in calming breaths, “What is wrong with you?” 

Overwhelming relief rushed through Roman’s viens as he watched you, annoyed and disgruntled in a sea of sheets and blankets from his entrance.

“Oh my God,” Tears sprang back to his eyes as Roman quickly closed the short distance between himself and your bed and vined his arms around you. 

He blanketed you in his body, crushing you to the mattress as he sobbed into your neck. 

“Whoa, hey, Ro? Baby? What happened? What’s going on?” You asked, anger turning quickly to worry as you moved to wrap your arms around his shaking shoulders. 

His forearms press into the base of your neck and the hollow of your back uncomfortably, arching you into him in an awkward position. But the pain only served as a reminder to Roman that you were real. You’re here and you’re breathing and your bones clash with his and your breath fogs his brain. He couldn’t speak, all he could do was inhale your clean scent and the pattern of your heartbeat. 

“Roman, you’re scaring me. What the hell is going on?” You tried again. 

“Just stay right here. Be safe,” He hushed, nuzzling closer to you, pressing his cold nose to your clavicle. 

A distinct prick of worry and fear made itself known in your gut, but you tried your best to subdue it.

For now.

“Alright, but please just tell me you’re OK?” You whisper, gripping the back of his shoulders tightly. 

“Yeah. And so are you.” 

You woke the next morning with a stabbing pain in your side and with stiff limbs. The sun had peeked over Roman’s head and cast onto your tired lids. Your hands were still tangled in his hair, resting loosely on the nape of his neck, having stopped combing through brunet strands sometime around dawn when sleep finally took you back under. 

You tried to shift your weight around to alleviate the discomfort, but a small voice stopped you. 

“Don’t get up,” Came Roman’s throaty plea. 

“I wasn’t, just getting comfortable. M’back hurts.” 

Roman doesn’t reply, just moves his arm from where it had been digging into your muscles and moves onto his side so you can too. His other arm stays firmly coiled around your shoulders. 

You sigh in relaxed pleasure as you stretch out the kink in your back and are able to snuggle back into Roman with no pain. 

“Thank you,” You mutter and kiss the hollow of his throat before you begin to drift off again. 

His warmth, his soft pine cologne, the weight of his arms around you, the safety he offered, it was hard to stay awake all while under the thick cloud of blankets and early morning heat. Roman began to drag his fingers gently up and down your spine, helping to lull you back into sleep. That was until you remembered that Roman hadn’t just snuck in the night before to sleep next to you. You two hadn’t fucked and smoked and passed out in each other’s arms. He had come storming into your bedroom last night with crazed glazed eyes, looking like he’d seen a ghost, or something worse. So, you blink away any residual urge for slumber. 

“What happened last night?” You asked, running your nose along his thrumming pulse. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Roman moves his palm up to cup the back of your skull, “We’ll talk about it when you wake up.” 

You wiggle away from his embrace far enough to see his face. He looked pensive and worried. His sweet lips chapped and gnawed raw. 

“I don’t want to wait, Ro. You really freaked me out last night.” You lean further back, “Was it Olivia? Did she do something?” 

“No, no,” Roman sighs, “Not this time. It wasn’t her.” 

“Then what was it?”

Roman ran the tip of his tongue over his cracked lips and sniffs loudly. He makes a scene to look anywhere but your eyes. He looked scared, and Roman never looked scared. Angry? Interested? Annoyed? Curious? Yes, but never scared. 

“Ro? What is it? You're freaking me.” You reach for his hand that is resting on your hip and wrap it in your own.

His jaw flexes and swivels, his bottom teeth jutting out before he finally sighs, “You were in my dream last night…” 

“And?” 

“Peter had the dream, too.” 

It felt like the wind had been knocked from your lungs. You knew Roman could feel your hand tighten around his own, because he pushed your face back to press into his chest. 

“But it’s OK. It’s going to be alright. I have you, I have you, I have you,” He chants, slipping his long calf around your legs to further his point. 

“Peter saw me, too?” You asked, voice quivering with uncertainty. 

“Yeah, baby. He did.” 

“And it was the same dream?” 

Roman took a long pause that told you more than his words ever could. 

“Did you see it, too? Did it get me?” 

You can feel Roman shutter against you. Like someone had poured ice water down his back. 

“No, we didn’t. It wasn’t there. It was just… it wasn’t pretty, I’ll spare you the details but it wasn’t fucking pretty. It freaked us out.” 

“Oh God,” You muttered, your mind moving a mile a minute, “Oh my God. I’m next.” 

“No.” Roman says, an animalistic roar from deep in his chest, his arms working to pull you even closer, “No. Nothing is going to happen to you. I won’t let it.” 

“What if something happens that you can’t stop? Or you’re not there? Or I’m alone? Or, or, fuck! I don’t know!” You gasp, your heart palpating in your chest. 

You had never been faced with your own mortality before. You had never had a near death experience or even anything close to one. You sometimes felt embarrassed when your peers would talk about terrifying advantentures they had embarked on that almost ended fatally but they triphumpanlty survived. Or activities they foolishly starred in and swore they saw their lives flash before their eyes. The stories were likely embellished, but you still felt square. You weren’t an adrenaline junkie, you didn’t even like carnival rides. You liked knowing you’d wake the next day, safe and sound with two feet planted firmly on the ground. This feeling of possible and even probable death by crazed werewolf made your vision blur and bile coat your tongue.

There wasn’t enough air in the world to satisfy your thirsty lungs.

“Hey, hey, stop!” Roman said sternly, his voice working to break through your wave of panic, “Nothing is going to happen, OK? Nothing. I will do whatever possible to keep you safe. I don’t care what it takes.” 

“Ro --” Tears had begun to fall from your eyes without your knowledge, and his name came from your lips weak and whimpered. 

“I have you, I’ve got you. I am going to be with you 24-fucking-7 until we kill this thing. I am not going to leave your side until I have a fucking Vargulf head in the trophy room.” He reassures. 

“How can you be with me when you are going off to kill it?”

“Then I’m gonna lock you in Shelley’s room and make you stay put until I’m back. We aren’t taking any chances with this.”  

You pull back once more to look at him with glazed eyes; his face pink from sleep and tears. 

“You’ll stay at the house until we kill this thing, alright? I don’t care what Olivia or anyone else says, you’ll stay with me.” 

“What if it comes here anyway? What if it hurts my mom? Oh my God, Roman, my mom!” Your blubbering again. 

“Fuck it, she can come, too. We’ll make something up, have Peter forge some documents from the city that say you guys have to get out of this house, then I’ll offer up guest bedrooms. We’ll figure it out.” He replies, smoothing your hair against your head. 

“Do you really think it’ll work?” 

Roman sighs, “I mean if it doesn’t I could, y’know, persuade her.”

“Roman, no.”

You knew Roman would never do anything to hurt your beloved mother, but the thought of him using his eye-thing on her made your stomach twist. 

“I would and I will if I have to. I’ll do what I have to to keep you safe. That’s just how it is.” 

He was your protector. Your warrior. Fuck Peter, fuck his mother and Destiny. Fuck anyone who told him this wasn’t his fight, that he should bow out and let the Rumanecks handle this. Because now it definitely was. Now, he was to be the one who saved the town and you and Peter and Letha and Shelley. He was to be the one who cut off the head of this wolf or ripped it apart with his bare hands to keep his loved ones safe. He was strong, he was the warrior. 

“OK.” You surrendered to his declarations of safety and tried to let his presence lull you. 

You’d have to pack some things in a few hours, help come up with a lie to convince your mother, then move into the Godfrey mansion and hope it’s walls were enough to shuck this black omen from your soul. 

“I got you, I promise I do.” Roman hushes, placing a delicate kiss to your forehead. 

Your burrow deeper into his embrace and refuse to tell him about the dream you’d had the night before. The dream about spitting your teeth into his hands and running your tongue over your coppery gums. You needed to call Destiny or Peter’s mom to get the prognosis on if it meant anything. If it was just unsettling or apart of whatever Roman and Peter were seeing at night. For now, all you could hope was that it was the former, and Roman’s energy was enough to heal your fearful heart.

hi (-: i hope you enjoyed! if you did, i’d love to hear from you <3 

[catharrington]

It HAS to be #4 for thst prompt list. Kill me with it!

4/ We slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair.

Maybe a little different than requested but like here is a thot I’ve had for a while.

We’ve got tonight.

Hopper pushed the metal door closed behind them with a shove, the hinges creeking. He leaned against it, face twisted up in a grimace, and reached to run his hand over his brow in exasperation but couldn’t. One hand occupied locking the door, the other braced around Billy Hargrove’s forearm, his knuckles hitting the handcuffs binding the teen’s wrists.

“You better have a good explanation for this, Jim!” Murray hissed- fuckin hissed, jabbing a finger right into the middle of Hopper’s chest.

“He ain’t!” Billy scoffed. Earning him a yank on the arms that only made the teen snarl in return. “You ain’t!” He repeated this time towards Hopper.

“Just cool it, Billy!” Steve finally snapped at where he was standing farther down the hallway. Running his hands through his hair in a panic, panting like he just got finished running, looking wide eyed at how the three others turned to face him.

Murray took a step towards Steve, tilting his head to the side. Steve wanted to show his teeth in a little hiss, but he didn’t want to come off the same energy as Billy. So he bit the bottom of his lip. Placed his hands on his hips and cocked them to the side.

“And you must be...,” Murray asked slowly.

“I’m Steve,” Steve said letting go of his bottom lip. Flicking his eyes to the wall and back.

“Oh, you’re Steve,” Murray instantly melted into knowing laughter, eyes glimmering with an inside joke.

Steve opened his mouth to snap back what the hell the older man meant by that- but Murray was already turned back to face the door.

“And that mullet and attitude just gives you away! The infamous Billy Hargrove?” he announced, clasping his hands together manically.

Hopper rolled his eyes, frowning and groaning, while Billy perked up. Stepping towards Murray with a confident shrug only slightly ruined by the handcuffs pulling taught. “Didn’t know I had a fuckin reputation to keep up with-,”

“Shut your trap, Hargrove!” Hopper interrupted him. Pushing Billy so he faces the wall. Legs spread and hands in front to brace himself as best as he can. Steve glances away.

“As cute as this all is, sheriff- Chief! Hopper. Why, oh why, have you shown up at my humble abode with two teenage boys at 2 in the morning?” Murray says with a forced fondness. “Explain, please?” He snaps when Hopper takes a second too long to think.

“Alright, alright,” he purses his lips, rolls that thick mustache around.

“We need a place to spend the night.” Steve pipes up.

Murray turns to him with a grimace. “I’m not a bed and breakfast, Steve,” he mocks.

“Well,” Steves got his hands on his hips still, knows the kids would roll their eyes at him. But he’s way too tired at this point. “If you give a flying shit: we’ve been kinda running for our lives from Russian super soldiers and parallel universe demons all day long. We’ve wrestled a smoke monster out of Billy’s mouth that was so not something I wanted to see, thanks, and I haven’t eaten or taken a shower in way- way too long. So if you don’t mind?”

Hopper and Murray had matching frowns, if that was possible. It might have just been the facial hair. While Billy watched Steve with a cross between fondness in his eyes, and complete debauchery in the rest of his face. Licking across his fat bottom lip while he raked his eyes over Steve. Up and down. Making no effort to hide it.

Steve scoffed at him, pursing his lips and turning away. He didn’t see the way Murray looked between the two of them. His eyes flicking left and right as if trying to calculate across a page.

“I’ve got a fold out couch that would be cramped, but it’s nicer than it looks.” He suggests.

Steve wanted to whine, complain, lament about why he had to get bunked with the guy who only ‘most likely’ doesn’t have a demon inside of him anymore. But Steve felt tired. And if the bags under Hopper’s eyes that are dark as, and seem to droop down just as low as, his mustache have anything to say; he’s tired too.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve nods back, “that sounds good.”

“Showers first door on the left, couch is just down this hall into the living room. Can’t miss it.” Murray says with a sniveling smirk that sets Steve’s teeth on edge. He doesn’t even care, just rushes past to head into the shower first.

And that’s how Steve finds himself, laying across a fold out couch that smells like pipe smoke and vodka with one arm draped across his hips and the other bent holding his top half up to watch Billy come out of the bathroom. He makes it one step before Hopper is there with the handcuffs. Slapping them back in place with a shiver inducing clicking noise.

“I’ve got my eyes on you, Hargrove,” Hopper warns, threatening even in a button up Hawaiian shirt, “don’t think for a second-,”

“Have you ever known me to think, chief?” Billy snaps back. Makes Steve’s eyes roll. The blonde with hair still curly and dripping wet gives Hopper a two handed salute before walking away backwards towards the living room.

“Goodnight, Hop,” Billy sings.

It’s three in the morning by the time the lights are off and both boys are laying down. Billy’s turned to his side. His hands forced together by metal up and clutching the end of his lumpy pillow. Steve’s laying on his stomach, nuzzling into his own pillow before turning ever slightly to look at Billy.

He watches as Billy softens when he sleeps. Those long eyelashes fluttering closed. His cheeks dusted with freckles more apparent this close. The closest they’ve ever been. Even in basketball when Billy presses right up to his side. Even in the showers when he leers and gets right into his face. Hell, even only hours ago when they had Billy strapped down to a hospital bed in a lava hot room as he begged to be let go, snarled, whimpered, and Steve had to lay across his shoulders to stop him from ripping the heavy leather restraints, this is the closest Steve’s thinking he’s ever been.

Or maybe it’s the closest he’s ever been without a fight. Without some immature school yard excuse to admire those long lashes and cute freckles.

Steve twists himself to get a better look. Both boys laying on their sides. He feels a smile grow across his face as he drops his eyes closed.

In the morning, light is much different in Murray’s sealed fortress of a house. It filters through newspapers he has glued up, gives the light a stuffy orange glow that makes the whole place cozy. Not intentionally, Steve figures, as he wakes up and blinks his eyes into focus, just as unintentionally as he finds himself still next to Billy.

But in the same way, he finds it lovely. The way the orange light filters through the rotting newspapers to cascade down across Billy’s tanned skin and alight it in coppers. Catches each and every wild curl made messy with sleep. Litters them with strands of spun golden thread.

His freckles are dark, still too many shadows, but they are there. Steve is close enough to see how they move when Billy wrinkles his nose in sleep. How his eyes shift to make those long lashes flutter.

Steve’s not thinking. He’s in some orange tinted twilight zone as he reaches forward. Stretches out his long fingers to inch ever closer.

He’s always wanted to touch. Always found some alternative for it. But maybe now, maybe in this orange-

Steve curls his fingers over the back of Billy’s neck. Burrows his fingers into soft gold hair. Rubs his thumb across copper skin covered with freckles. Sighs out loud when his skin makes contact because Billy’s warm, so warm, like a California beach. Just like he imagined.

“Pretty boy,” the words are tired, slurred, only just awake. Billy’s eyes open slowly. His blue darkened to navy. Pools of shadowed water just before the break of dawn. Promises of a rainbow colored sky.

Steve bites his lip because he wants to pull away, but he doesn’t. Not this time. He swipes his thumb again and again. “You know it’s a joke, you calling me pretty boy when you look like this. Really such a dumb joke. Have you looked into a mirror?”

Billy scoffs. Curls up one lip in disgust as he lifts his head to nuzzle farther into Steve’s hand. Blinks once, then twice, before focusing his half open bleary eyes on Steve’s own. “Only lookin at you, pretty boy.” He mumbles.

The handcuffs jingle as Billy lifts them to pet across Steve’s forearm the same way Steve can’t stop petting across Billy’s sleep warmed skin.

Neither boy hears Murray making coffee in the kitchen. They have their eyes closed again by the time the man walks into the living room to watch with a cocky smile buried into his mug. Steve’s got his legs tangled with Billy’s, touching as much as he can without any good excuse.

[youare-mysonshine]

ocean eyes || justin foley

Summary: A cute, relaxing evening with you and Justin.

Requested: Yes

Can I request something super fluffy with Justin from 13rw? After that finale I’m still SAD so I don’t wanna think abt it at all lmaooo, it could maybe b like before the tapes? Jus something super fluffy n cutesy.

Pairing: Justin Foley x Reader

Warnings: cussing, underage drinking and drug use, mentions of abuse, pre-season 1, pre-tapes.

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Hey guys, I do be back! Shocking, I know lmao i’m just as surprised. So I stopped writing for a while because I just kinda lost motivation. I lost motivation for writing for Oscar and OMB. But expanding my blog has been something that I’ve been wanting to do for a while now, I’ve just been a bit nervous. However, I said fuck it and have decided to write for other fandoms. With t h a t ending for 13 reasons why, I figured we could all use some Justin fluff. Baby boy deserved better. Anyways, this is my first time writing for somebody other than Oscar in a while and my first time writing in a while in general, i’m definitely rusty and lowkey nervous to be posting lmao I hope you guys enjoy this and I hope that this isn’t shitty. And if any of you wanna be tagged in any future work of mine, not just Oscar and OMB, let me know!

————

“Jesus Justy, you’re such a lightweight, aren’t you? Do I have to take care of your dumb ass all night?” You looked over at your boyfriend of a few months, cheeks pink, mouth pulled back into an amused grin.

“Shut the fuck up. I am not a lightweight. Besides, look who’s talking. Remember Bryce’s party a few weeks ago? We hadn’t even been there for like 2 hours and your pretty little ass was passed out on the couch.”

You and Justin walked up the narrow stairs that led into the attic, hand in hand. It had been his idea to buy some beer, to smoke some weed and you had been on board with the plan. You had snuck Justin into your room and the both of you had spent the better part of the afternoon drinking the nasty beer, beer provided by Bryce Walker, having chugging competitions to see who could drink the most and fastest. Now, you and the handsome high school athlete found yourselves making your way up to the attic that led to the roof.

“Oh shut up! I was not drunk! That was you.” You laughed, your bright eyes glimmering like two twinkling stars in the night sky. The two of you had worked your way into the attic, shimmied through the window and found yourselves on the roof of your house. You had chosen a comfortable, as comfortable as it could be for the roof, spot and took a seat, patting the spot beside you for Justin to sit down. The chocolate haired teenager did as instructed and sat beside you, your arms touching. He’d since abandoned his fashionable blue and white letterman jacket, the garment laying stagnant on your bed.

A warm evening consumed Evergreen County. The sky was full of vibrant colors such as orange, red and yellow which were slowly being rotted away into a sea of black. You could see the moon just barely beginning to peak out in the sky. It was beginning to look like a beautiful night. Warm and crisp and breezy. Quite frankly, you were a little tipsy. You and Justin. You weren’t stumbling or anything, but it was enough to leave you feeling free and good. You felt good.

Justin held the joint up to his lips and fished a lighter out from his pocket. He hovered the flame by the tip until it began to smolder nicely. He inhaled deeply, held it for a few seconds and then removed the joint from his move. Blue eyes as bright as the ocean on a sunny day watched the plumes of white smoke dissipate into thin air, dancing like ink in water until they simply vanished. He handed the joint over to you and then laid back against the roof, staring up at the sky.

“Mhm. Whatever helps you sleep better at night, babe.” Justin smoke, a peaceful smile on his face. The truth was; this was the most peaceful that he’d felt in quite a few days. Being away from home, being away from that toxic environment that sucked the life and energy out of him. He turned his head to look at you; you had followed his lead and laid down beside him, bringing the joint up to your lips. You wrapped your lips around the end of it and inhaled, your eyes closing for a brief few seconds. You’re beautiful, he thought to himself. The familiar stench of weed had invaded his nostrils, as well as yours.

“My parents would fuckin’ kill me if they saw me up here.” You said, laughing a bit breathlessly. You parents were oblivious, in the living room or kitchen, completely unaware that Justin had been in your room the entire afternoon. Completely unaware that you were now on the roof smoking weed with your boyfriend. Though, you supposed that it worked out better for you, because you could feel yourself relaxing even further, ending a good day on an even higher note, no pun intended.

“I get the feeling neither of them would like me if they saw us up here. They’d probably say I was a bad influence on you. And it’s probably true.” He chuckled, taking the joint between his fingers and bringing it up to his lips again. “I’m corrupting you, baby.” He said, cheekily. He looked over at you with that big and bright smile on his face and you were reminded of why you fell for him in the first place; you and Justin went to the same school. Liberty High School. You weren’t necessarily popular but you weren’t a loner either. You had just moved there a few months, shortly before going out with Justin. and you had immediately caught his eye. He’d flirt with you, do things to try and get your attention. But you made him work for it. You wanted him to sweat a little bit, make him realize that you weren’t going to give in to his charms so easily.

But in the end, he won you over. You couldn’t say no to him. You couldn’t say no to that beautiful smile and those bright blue eyes. Now, here you were, months later. You were going out, happy as can be. But, you had soon learned that Justin’s life wasn’t all that he made it out to be. You remembered one evening where he called you, asked if he could go over to your house and spend the night. Usually, you’d say no. You knew that your parents would ground you for life if they found a boy in your room at night. But his voice, he sounded so sad, so broken — you couldn’t say no to him. However, the last thing that you expected to see was your boyfriend sporting a fresh, darkening purple bruise on his cheekbone that cascaded all the way up to his eye. Around his neck were reddening fingerprints, as if someone had strangled him.

You remembered the shock that you felt seeing him in such a state, and naturally, you had thought that you boyfriend had been in a fight. He had been in a fight. With his mom’s boyfriend. All you could do was sit on the bed, hold a pack of ice to his face and listen as he explained to you the horrors that he went through on a daily basis at the hands of his drug addicted mother and her boyfriend. He looked so different than how you knew him. His ocean eyes that were usually so vibrant and full of life, were downcast, gloomy. That was when you realized that there was more to Justin Foley than met the eye. From then on, you told him that whenever things were getting bad at home, he always had a place to stay with you. And it seemed like your relationships had also strengthened, like you two had gotten closer. All you wanted to do was ensure that he was safe, that no harm would come to him. Even if it meant physically stepping in and doing something. Though, you were sure that you would be no match for the coward known as Seth Massey. Still, you would do anything for Justin. Just as you knew he’d do anything for you.

You chuckled softly at his words. “Well then I guess you can be my dirty little secret.” You said to him, scooting so that you were snuggled closer to him. It was then that your smile melted away and was replaced with a look of concern. “How are things with you thought? At home, I mean. You haven’t spoken about it in a little while, and Bryce told me that you stayed with him for a few days last week. Is Seth back?” You were trying your hardest not to pry, the last thing you wanted to do was come off as clingy or noisy, but you couldn’t help it. You cared. Where Justin was laying on his back, the hem of his shirt had rose up slightly on his stomach, leaving a thick sliver of skin expose. Your fingers rested there, absently toying with the thing trail of hair below his belly button. That first inhale was gradually loosening your muscles. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.. I just worry. I mean.. is everything good? Or do I have to kick his ass for you?” You said, only half joking.

Justin smiled, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer to him. “I would love to see that. I mean, I would pay to see that shit actually.” He chuckled, taking one more drag of the joint before handing it off to you. His fingers drew little random patterns and shaped on your silky skin, his smile dying down. “Yeah, um.. He’s back. I mean, honestly I just figured I’d stay out of his way rather than start anymore fuckin’ problems. The last thing I need is to get into another fuckin’ fight with that dick. So I just stayed with Bryce for a few days.” In all honesty, Seth actually kind of scared Justin. The man was unpredictable. Violent. He’d hurt Justin countless of times, called him so many names that he could probably write a book filled with them. There were times were the blue eyed teen didn’t even want to deal with Seth so he just escaped to Bryce’s pool house where he’d pretend like his home life wasn’t a big pule of shit. Still, he wrestled with his thoughts of guilt at leaving his mom alone with that scum bad. He wrestled with his thought of guilt because he knew that Seth would and could hurt his mother. But countless of times, Amber Foley welcomed Seth back no matter what he’d done to her or him. And countless of times, Justin was left disappointed by his own flesh and blood.

It was why he was determined to keep you out of that. You were probably one of the few good things in his life, besides Bryce and his friends. You were good. You were pure. And the last thing he wanted was to have you tainted by the shit show that was his life. Sometimes he felt like he didn’t deserve you at all. Like you deserved someone way better than him. Someone who could give you more than him. If he was being truthful, he never wanted you to find out about his home life. He wanted to keep that part of his life hidden and he wanted you to see what everybody at school saw; the popular jock with lots of friends and lots of girls pining after him. The guy with the seemingly perfect life. Yet, when you discovered that his mom was a drug addict with an extremely abusive boyfriend.. you stayed. You didn’t judge him. You didn’t leave him. You stayed. And Justin considered himself the luckiest person on the planet because he had you.

You frowned. “Justin, babe, why didn’t you tell me? You know that you don’t have to hide shit from me, right? I mean I’m glad you got outta there and stayed with Bryce for a few days but you can come to me too.”

“Hey, it’s fine. It’s whatever. I just I didn’t want to tell you anything and make you worried. I only stayed with Bryce because.. I don’t know, I just didn’t want to feel like I was bugging you or something. And I don’t want you to get in trouble with your folks because of me incase they found out that I stayed here.” He explained. “Don’t worry, okay? Everything is all good, I promise. I’m here with you. How could it not be?” He leaned over and kissed your forehead. His words and his kiss had eased your nerves, even if it was only temporarily. Right now, the two of you were together and everything was good. Neither of you had a care in the world; you were with each other and you were all that mattered.

“You know that you don’t deserve it, right? All that shit from Seth. No matter what he says or does to you.. it’s not your fault and you shouldn’t have to live like that.. I’m serious, Justin. I’m here, don’t forget that. I’m your girlfriend but I’m also your friend.” You said. To show that he’d heard you, Justin gave your arm a loving squeeze. For a few minutes, neither of you said nothing. The both of you just stared up at the darkening sky, passing the joint back and forth until nothing was left. Until your muscles were completely relaxed, until your eyes were half lidded, until the only thing on your mind was how good you felt.

“Do you ever think about leaving this place? Just packing your shit and going? I’ve thought about it. We could go anywhere we want. Away from Seth, from all the high school bullshit, away from everyone. It’d be nice.” You hummed, the air growing cooler as you spoke. “But it looks like we’re stuck here. For now, at least. Graduation seems like forever away.” You broke the silence, though your eyes never left the beautiful sky. Justin, however, turned to look at you. For a few seconds, he just stared at you and took you in — how good your perfume smelled and how it seemed to cling to him. How the fabric of your outfit contrasted beautifully against your skin. How relaxed you looked. You were utterly ethereal.

“I think about it all the time. Especially when I’m at home, listening to my mom and Seth fight. I think about just fucking leaving and never coming back. Forgetting this boring ass little town and just.. getting away from here.” He revealed. “Maybe one day, me and you, we can get outta here together. After graduation. Just pack our shit up and leave.” That was a good thought. Leaving Crestmont with you. Going anywhere in the world that they wanted. But you two were still young, and neither of you knew the giant shit storm that you were about to go through. Neither of you knew the horror that you’d endure. Neither of you knew if you’d even still be together by the time you go to graduation.. or if you even make it to graduation. Still, right now, everything seemed too good and too perfect. Like nothing could tear you down and ruin what you had going on.

You groaned, burying your face in Justin’s shoulder. “Graduation is so far away.” You whined playfully. “Who’s to say that you won’t get tired of me by then?”

“Eh, you’re right. You’re pretty fucking annoying.” Justin said, earning a smack to the chest by you. “I’m kidding!” He laughed. “I mean.. we don’t know what’s gonna happen but I like to think that you and I will still be together by the time we get to graduation. I mean.. I don’t know.. call me sappy or whatever.. I just really like you, Y/N.. And you know about me and my fucked up life and family and you haven’t run for the hills.. yet. I guess I’m pretty fucking lucky to have you and I don’t wanna screw any of this up.”

“Wow.. Justin Foley.. Have you been watching cheesy romance movies?” You teased your boyfriend. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, laughing softly. “Seriously though.. I really like you too and nothing you do or say is gonna scare me off. Seth isn’t gonna scare me off either. You’re right, we don’t know what’s gonna happen in the future but.. we just gotta take it day by day right.. Together?”

Instead of initially answering you verbally, Justin surged forward and captured your soft lips with his own. The kiss that you shared was slow, relaxed, a symptom of the weed that you two had just shared. But it was more loving than any other kiss you’d experienced before. You sighed in content, easing against him, but Justin reacted by gripping your thigh and moving it so that it was draped over his lap. You did the rest; without breaking the kiss, your mouths and tongues moving in a steady rhythm, you shifted from laying against the tiled roof and positioned yourself on top of him. Your thigh were sturdy on either side of his lips, your butt rested lightly upon his lap. Justin’s hands fell on your hips, holding you secure and steady against him, almost as if wanting to make sure that you wouldn’t disappear.

After a few long, precious moments, you finally pulled away an inch or two. Your face was close to his, your noses barely touching. “Together.” He finally answered.

“You’re stuck with me now, Foley. Sorry about it.” You giggled breathlessly, your eyes shining brightly. Justin never wanted to look away.

“Yeah? Well sorry to say it, but you’re stuck with me too, baby. You ain’t getting rid of me that easily.”

Justin knew his friends, Bryce and all the other jocks, would call him pussy whipped if they could see him now. Hell, they already did every time they saw you and Justin walking down the hallway holding hands or his arm around you.. Justin would soon learn that his biggest downfall would be caring too much of what his friends think.

But for now, he enjoyed the moment of being tangled up with you on the roof of your house with the moon illuminating you both. Nothing else mattered.

[babbushka]

Ink

3k, N S F W 

He’s got a killer headache, when you walk through the doors. Normally, he’d be too engrossed in the minutiae of going over the facts of the case, of learning his cover, of of of, to notice someone puttering around. But tonight, he’s too aggravated from dealing with the bullshit of the world, too annoyed, too keyed up. So when the little bell chimes, when you step into the station lobby, he’s snapping his head up to get an eyeful of you.

Because of course it’s you – who else would it be at two in the morning? Who else would be walking his way, weaving through the desks in the bullpen with a thermos of coffee brewed exactly the way he likes from the metal percolator his ma gave him when he first moved out?

He’s so relieved to see you that he could cry, and maybe he does, hot tears of frustration pricking at the corners of his eyes that he rubs away. You’re soft, edges gone fuzzy as he blinks at you with tired vision, tipping his head up for a kiss that you’re so eager to give him. You pluck the cigarette from between his lips and lick into his mouth real slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that makes him want to sit you on his lap, makes him want to bury his face in your tits and just exist wrapped up in you.

Instead he winds an arm around your waist from where you’re standing next to him as he’s seated at his desk, smokes and smokes, fills the air with grey that makes the whole world hazy.

“I’ve had a real bad fuckin’ day, honey.” He grumbles around his cigarette, huffing and puffing and grinding his teeth in that way that makes you want to shove your fingers in his mouth or your tongue, just to let him alleviate some of the pressure.

His shoulders are tense from the stress of it all, of this case. He’s tense and he’s angry and you hate to see him so angry, so you drape yourself across his back, you slide your hands up and under the holster which wraps around his frame, you warm the leather with your hands in soothing strokes. As much as he wants to stay mad, he can’t, not with you so close, not with you lovin’ on him like this, so he lifts his face from where he’s frowning into a file in front of him, lifts it and shoves it into your cheek as he stubs the last remains of the cigarette into his ashtray that lives on the desk, hot tongue licking a stripe across your jaw.

Needy, hungry.

He’s always so hungry.

“I can tell,” You say eventually, coming around from behind him to gently push away the manilla folders and papers that litter his small corner of the bullpen, pushing them away to make room for your ass as you sit facing him. “In that case…I think you need something a little sweeter than this coffee.”

His eyes blow wide, inky black with lust and heat, simmering behind his thick lashes as he works his jaw, the muscles in his cheek tensing and clenching as his hands smooth up up up your thigh, slip under your skirt.

“Spread your legs for me.” He murmurs, transfixed at the way he reveals your skin with each inch of the fabric that he bunches up around your hips, slowly savoring the tease.

You lick your lips and let your knees fall apart, slip one leg carefully up and over, Flip’s shoulder resting in the crook of your knee.

“Like this?” You ask, coy and playful, as if you don’t know, as if you hadn’t been doing this for years.

“Just like that.” Flip says anyway, expertly unbuttoning his jeans to pull his cock out, desperately hard and needing relief.

He strokes himself for a minute or two just to get some of the tension out, just because if he doesn’t do this now, he’ll fuck you hard and fast and come in you too soon – he doesn’t want anything over too soon, not now, not tonight. Tonight he’s going to give you the pounding you both need, the railing you deserve.

He jacks off with the sight of your legs spread barely a foot from his face, but the angle is all wrong, he can’t – he wants – he doesn’t know how to articulate it, too wound up to properly ask, so instead he’s out of his chair and kneeling on the floor in front of you.

He’s tall enough that he can perfectly fit his head between your legs, and he does, he does and just breathes in the smell of your sex, can feel the wetness that’s started to collect there on his lips, on his cheek as he nuzzles his face into the soft skin of your thighs. You’re absolutely littered with marks down here, bright red and deep purple and muted greens, all different stages of his teeth and tongue claiming you as his own.

He’s excited to press more into your flesh, to sink his jaws into the meat of your thigh. Maybe it’s the case, maybe it’s just his mood, but when he looks at your soaked panties, when he looks at the way your breath is coming in a little heavier, he can’t help but feel primal.

He runs his tongue over one of the bruises, the one he gave you this morning when he ate you out before going off to work, before this fif-fuckin-teen hour shift started, before he got himself neck-deep in paperwork and bureaucratic bullshit. As he does, your thighs quiver underneath him, he groans, lets a finger or two make their way to gently pull aside your panties, tease between your folds so gently, so reverently that it has you shivering up on the desk.

“I fucking love this pussy, you know that? You know how much I love this hot cunt of yours?” Flip asks, licks up the crease where your thigh ends and your pussy starts, and that act alone has the hand that’s been carding through his hair tightening just enough for him to grin against you.

“Why don’t you put that mouth to good use, hm?” You’re breathless, and you laugh when he suddenly manhandles you up the desk more properly, presses your back against the cold wood.

Your back arches as he rips the cotton of your panties in two, come sticking to the cloth in little strings that have him guessing you fingered yourself before coming over, fingered yourself nice and slow so he could fuck you real easy. He leans over to kiss you, to make out with you, grateful and so appreciative of all the little things you do for him.

“In a minute,” He says against your lips, and you don’t mind the wait because while he’s making out with you on his desk, his hand is fully concerned with fingering you some more, judging for himself how stretched and pliant you are, putty in his hands. “You’re such a good girl for me.”

You hum at that, the praise making your cunt clench around his fingers, and he chuckles just a little into your mouth.

He pulls his fingers out of you with a wet sticky pop and licks them into his mouth, cleans the taste of you off his fingers with a small moan.

“So sweet.” He says, letting the clean fingers grasp your jaw, pry your mouth open so he can rub his thumb along your tongue, stroking it.

His dick is leaking now, dribbling all over his jeans, and he strokes himself again for a while, trying to stave off coming. Not yet, he thinks, he can’t blow his load yet, not when he hasn’t even really gotten started.

So instead of blowing his load, he drops back down to the floor, wastes no time diving into your cunt.

“Phil!” You gasp excitedly, head thrown back, one hand grasping at the edge of the desk near your face, the other tangled firmly in his hair, keeping him in place as if he would ever leave, as if he’d ever stop eating your cunt out.

If he had his way, he’d spend every minute of every day between your legs. Sometimes, he gets his way.

This is one of those times.

“Fuck ketsl,” He groans, the deep deep deep baritone of his voice vibrating up through your pussy, up into your stomach where the butterflies dance. “You’re soaked.”

“I know – I,” You hiccup, shifting your hips enough in the grip he’s got on you to get his nose pressed right up onto your clit the way you love, “I wanted to get ready for you.”

“You came here to get fucked, that it?” He asks between thick broad licks of the flat of his tongue, between your folds.

“Uh huh,” You moan, eyes shut tight, hips squirming and rolling into his mouth as he slurps up your slick, swallows it down with a moan of his own. “Please?”

He doesn’t know what you’re asking for, if it’s to come or to get fucked by his cock or what, but he’s not ready to leave your pussy just yet, so he shakes his head, scratches up your cunt with his mustache, his goatee just a little longer.

“Mmm, P-Phil, yes!” Your bare foot – when did your shoes come off? – digs into his back, pushes him closer and closer into you as he curls his tongue up so that he can shove it deep inside your body, spears it into you.

He eats you out like he’s dying, like this is his last meal, like he’s been graced by heaven with the spread of your legs and he lets himself suffocate inside your cunt, nose inhaling nothing but the smell of your slick as it coats his facial hair, as he bruises your hips.

He knows it’s risky, knows it’s dangerous to have you like this, out in the open of the bullpen where anyone could see; but there’s no one here, even the janitors have gone and packed up for the night. He groans into you when he thinks about the puddle of come he’ll have to clean up when you’re both done.

Your orgasm hits Flip and he can’t help but feel a swell of pride, making you come on just his tongue, just his mouth. Your legs are shaking, poor things, from the feeling of it. He quickly pulls back to watch, his favorite part is to watch you come, watch the way your face flushes, sweats, your mouth drops open. He spits into your mouth, a man possessed. He watches you swallow it down the same way he swallows your come, licks it up from where it’s dripping down your thighs.

When your eyes open again, it’s to see him popping off the buttons of your blouse, a soft casual something you like to wear around the house. You’ve replaced the buttons on that blouse four times already – he figures fifth time’s the charm.

You’re not wearing a bra, which makes sense because it’s now two-thirty in the morning, but the sight of your bare breasts and stiff nipples is still something to behold.

“Im,” he starts, not even knowing what he wants to say, having no fucking clue because you’re lying on your back on his desk at work, with your cunt dripping and your tits out and his mind is broken, cock throbbing and drooling and desperate for you.

“Please?” You whisper, a pleasure-weak hand cupping his cheek, guiding his face closer to yours so he can line the head of his cock where it’ll sink in so so so easy.

“You want my big Jew dick, huh?” He asks, delirious from lust, obsessed with the way your lids are so hooded from your own pleasure that he can barely see your eyes.

“I do, I do – give it to me?” You ask back, demand, squeezing his hips with your knees.

He’s still clothed, keeps himself that way, keeps himself as put together as he possibly can while you’re falling apart on his desk, your back sweating and sticking to the paperwork he’d been ignoring all night.

“You gotta be quiet for me ketsl.” He says, no idea why, not like there’s anyone around to hear.

But you, you’re an angel and you nod, you let him cover your mouth with his hand as he rubs the head of his cock between your folds, wetting it, smearing all his pre-come and all your slick together in a way that squelches so dirty that he has to suck some drool back into his mouth from where it’s dangerously close to landing on your cheek.

He can’t take it anymore, the waiting, the teasing, not when you’re so wet, when your body is silently begging him to fuck you. So he finally lets himself have it, finally sinks all the way in with one thrust, bottoms out entirely.

“Oh holy shit,” he breathes, forcing himself in even deeper, impossibly deeper, so deep that he pushes you up the desk a little, knocks your cervix with the head of him in that way that makes you wince from the sheer fullness of it.

He fucks you hard, the way you both like it.

“I – I,” You gasp, incoherent, muffled against his hand.

He drags his cock nearly all the way out, until he’s rubbing at your folds again, before shoving it harshly back into you, making you yelp out against his hands, making your eyes prick and glisten. He does it again and again, until the whole length of him is impossibly soaked, droplets of your come and sweat splattering from the force of it onto the front of his jeans, darkening the denim.

The hand on your mouth slides down to your throat, gives it a good squeeze that has your cheeks darkening, an angry aroused flush burning its way down your chest. Your tits bounce from the way he fucks himself into you, the way he gets his aggression out from the day, spends it all through your cunt. You take it, take him so well, made for him.

“Fffuck.” He grunts out, slams his fist down on the desk near your hip, all his muscles and all his nerves on fire from how good it is, and you laugh in surprise, a laugh that melts into a loud moan.

He bends your legs this way and that, maneuvers them so he can hold you in place, so he can rail you hard. He’s knocking shit off the desk but he doesn’t give a damn, not when your cunt sucks him in every time he pulls out, like it never wants him to leave. Papers and pens are scattered all over the floor as he pushes you further and further up the desk, has to physically drag you back down when you start hanging over the edge of it a little too much.

He gives in to his baser needs and bends himself down so he can squeeze your tits together around his face, so he can press them to his cheeks and block out the world with your breasts. With closed eyes, he savors the feeling of how hot and wet and tight you are, still somehow so tight around his cock. He bites down on your sternum nips at the swell of your tits, licks up all the sweat that’s accumulated there before he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.

You whine and squirm, getting close to coming again.

“Just a little longer, just hold out a little fuckin’ longer honey,” He begs from your tits, “I’m close.”

He likes coming at the same time as you when he fucks you, he doesn’t know why. Likes making sure his come gets all the way in you, likes it mixing, mingling. He likes the thought of the two of you being so joined, so completely combined. He’s been fucking you for damn near over a decade, and he still gets drunk off the thought of it.

His balls are tightening up and his stomach is fluttering and he knows it’ll all be over soon, so he holds on to the last few minutes of fucking he can, speeds his hips up to chase the glow of orgasm that rushes through him until it comes crashing down through his veins like a drug he can’t quit, making him bite down hard onto the join between your neck and shoulder as his hips stutter and shove themselves closer closer closer to you.

He drops a shaking hand to your pussy, rubs your clit until you’re sobbing out a gasp, until you’re coming and he’s coming and you’re both panting into each other’s mouths.

“I love you.” Your throat clicks when you let out a chuckle, adrenaline pumping through you.

“Love you more ketsl,” Flip groans as he rolls his hips slowly, lazily against you, cock still oozing come deep into your pussy. “Thank you.”

“For what?” You ask softly, pushing the hair out of his face from where he’s collapsed down onto your chest, exposing one of his big ears that you find so sweet.

“Just bein’ mine.” He sighs happily, nuzzles his face into your cleavage.

He’s not so tense anymore, not so stressed. How could he be after all, when he’s got you beneath him, your heart beating erratically, wildly, from the thrill of it all.

“Your coffee’s getting cold,” You say fondly, so in love. You spare a glance up at the clock which chimes three in the morning, the distant roll of thunder and crickets slowly coming back into play, slowly coming back into focus as the warm glow of orgasm fades. “Come home with me, I’ll make you a fresh cup.”

“One condition,” he groans as he pulls himself out of you, dick softening as he reaches for a tissue or something to clean you both up.

“Mmm what’s that cowboy?” You ask with a grin as he wraps your body back up in clothes as best he can, eventually settling on taking off his holster and peeling the flannel off his own back to hand it to you when you both realize that he’s torn and ripped your blouse beyond any real decent wear.

“You let me wash all that ink off your back.” He smirks at the sight of you, skin totally covered in smeared black and blue.

“Ink?” You’re confused for a moment before realizing he had laid you down on the mess of papers that he’s going to have to redo – which he doesn’t mind, he had to redo them anyway – and now you looked like you’d been attacked by a copy machine.

“Isn’t it such a good thing you love me?” He asks, cheeky and smug, even as you tug on his ear.

Because you do it with a big grin, face flushed and sweaty strands of hair sticking to your cheek, your forehead, and he finds his headache’s gone away when you look at him so full of love and come and huff out a laugh and a,

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

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Tagging some Flip loving friends because I can’t just keep this to myself of course lol  @dreamboatdriver​​ @kylo-renne​​  @kyloxfem​​ @formerly-anonhamster​​ @thepilotanon​​ @solotriplets​​   @fullofbees​​ ​ @bourbonboredom​​ @driverficarchive​​ @rosalynbair​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​ @glitzescape​​ @adamsnacc-kler​​  @ladygrey03​​ @venusianmaiden​​ marvelous-blog-221 @edwardseyelashes​​ @softcrybabykid​​ @tinyplanet-explorers​​ @riseofkylo​ @mandowhoreian​

[kraviolis]

does it feel like a triumph? - Half-Life

Rating: Teen Relationships: Gordon Freeman/Barney Calhoun Words: 1.7k Additional Tags: Evil Barney, Stream of Consciousness, Post-Episode 2, Guilt, Confessions, Betrayal Content Warnings: Mild Suicidal Ideation, Moderate Self Hate Summary:

Damn it all.

Leave it to Gordon to do the exact opposite of what Barney wants.

AO3 LINK ___________

Every time he looks at Gordon, Barney feels his guts twist painfully. 

Barney’s not even sure Gordon’s doing it on purpose, honestly. He’s just got this look in his eyes. It’s not anger, no, because for some reason no matter what he does Gordon just can’t be mad. It’s not fear, either, because why would The One Free Man be afraid?

It’s love. He can see it plain as day. And the longer he stares, the harder Barney’s heart clenches.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that.” He mutters, grimacing. Gordon’s expression sinks but it’s still there. That adoration. How can he still look at him like that, right now? He doesn’t get it.

It’s not like he can change what he’s done, what he’s going to do. He made a deal with the devil, shook his hand while looking right into his pale blue eyes and said he’d do what was needed. He can’t imagine how Alyx must feel, or Kleiner. They’d be angry, hurt, hissing out insults and trying to escape.

But they aren’t here. Gordon is.

And Gordon won’t look away from him, won’t spare him the gaze of those big, green eyes.

His hands are free from chains (except for a pair of strong handcuffs) but his legs aren’t. Barney wanted him to be able to talk but not get away, just so he could see every jab Gordon would send at him and really feel that guilt.

(Maybe then, he’d find the strength to give this up. Right this wrong.)

(And he knows it’s wrong, he knows he’s on the wrong side here, but… this is the only way he can keep them safe. Keep them all safe.)

But instead, Gordon just stares. Stares and stares and stares and he won’t fucking stop and Barney--

“I said stop !” He snaps, baring his teeth down at him. “For pete’s sake, Gordon, would’ya just quit it? ”

Gordon blinks, but looks down. Barney huffs, tightening his grip on his gun.

He watches Gordon clench and unclench his hands, the material of the HEV suit creaking as he does.

“No matter what ya say, I’m not…” He pauses, wets his lips. “I can’t go back. Not anymore. So just… don’t.” Please, God, try to snap me out of this, Gordon.

Gordon stops, lets his arms hang heavy. There’s a lull where nothing happens, just the two of them sitting there listening to the heavy whirr of the HEV suit vents.

Barney wonders what’s going on in Gordon’s head, what complex physics calculations he’s doing to determine how he’s gonna get out. Maybe he’s deciding if he wants to kill him or not. Maybe he’s given up.

He doesn’t want him to. Barney desperately wants Gordon to keep going, keep winning. Even if it means… even if it means he dies.

(Even if it means Gordon is the one to kill him.)

Gordon’s hands move up and Barney prepares himself to fall into his words, fully believing every single thing Gordon says while still putting on a show for the cameras. He can’t find his own willpower to do it without Gordon’s help. That’s all he needs.

(That’s all he’s ever needed.)

“I’m sorry,” Gordon signs, movements slow and jerky. He looks up again, meeting Barney’s eyes. “I love you.”

Barney inhales sharply. A flood of emotion washes over him and he does a little gasp-laugh, surprised and trying not to burst into tears. Goddamnit. Damn it all. Leave it to Gordon to do the exact opposite of what he wants.

He expected Gordon to call him every horrible word under the sun and demand for him to give up and he would’ve done it. He swears he would have.

But now Barney swears under his breath, clenching his jaw and muttering curses at himself and God and that son of a bitch in the suit.

Twenty years. Twenty fuckin’ years he cried himself to sleep while drunk off his ass, dreaming of seeing those words again. Those three tiny, giant words.

It’s not the beautiful hallmark movie moment he wanted. He doesn’t feel ecstatic to see those words. He’s not about to stand on his tiptoes and kiss Gordon in the middle of a summer rainstorm. He doesn’t feel sparks flying, doesn’t have hearts in his eyes.

It's a pain he feels. God, it hurts so fucking bad. His chest is about to rip itself open and he still, still can’t find it in himself to undo this huge goddamn mistake. Gordon just said he loved him and he’s still fucking standing here, pointing a gun at him.

Gordon reaches a hand out, not quite managing to bridge the gap between them. Even as distracted as he is, Gordon isn’t even trying to escape. He’s trying to comfort him. Him, his captor, his enemy, the one who betrayed him and who has betrayed everything he’s ever stood for.

Barney looks to him, anger and guilt and pain mixing into a cruel concoction in his head.

“I’m sorry.” Gordon repeats, and Barney isn’t going to be able to take much more of that look in his eyes. “Can I hold your hand?”

Oh Lord, there’s nothing Barney wouldn’t do for this man, if only he just asked.

Barney doesn’t answer. He just reaches a hand out and Gordon takes it gently in his own, so gently.

He wishes they weren’t separated by two layers of thick gloving, wishes he could feel Gordon’s skin against his. Would it be warm? Or are his hands still chronically cold?

He remembers Gordon would surprise Barney by pressing his fingers against his neck just to make him yelp. He remembers learning how to knit just to make Gordon a pair of thick, fingerless gloves for the winter. The kind he could talk more easily in.

He remembers the first night he wore them out, how happy he was to have warm hands while still being able to talk to Barney. It was snowing while they walked and talked, and they’d stopped under an awning for a bit only for Gordon to notice the mistletoe above them.

Barney remembers all of this as Gordon presses a kiss to his knuckles before pressing his cheek to his palm. All the air leaves him at once and he can’t breathe, eyes going wide.

They stay like that for a moment. Everything else disappears. Barney keeps his eyes focused on Gordon, on the way his eyes flutter shut as he just holds his hand there. When was the last time he was touched like this? Barney doesn’t know. He just knows that he can’t help but smooth his thumb against his cheekbone.

It makes Gordon sigh and turn his face more into his palm, pressing his lips there. There’s a moment where Barney considers falling to his knees and replacing his palm with his mouth. Where he considers undoing the restraints and handing Gordon his crowbar, then kneeling before him with his neck bared and waiting for his judgement.

He doesn’t do either of these. He just holds his breath.

Gordon looks tired, Barney notices. Deep, dark bags under his eyes and hastily-healed scars covering his face. Wounds that have been knitted together too fast, making the skin around it tight and firm. He runs his thumb over one on Gordon’s lip. Even through the glove he can feel the change between scar tissue and skin.

Being the Atlas of humanity must weigh on him something fierce, he thinks. If Barney goes through with this, Gordon wouldn’t have to worry about that. Maybe he could just rest. He looks like he hasn’t properly slept in days.

How long has it been? How long has it been since the resonance cascade, for Gordon? He looks the same. He acts the same. Barney’s 20 years feels like nothing in the face of what Gordon’s gone through.

Gordon opens his eyes again, looking up at him through his eyelashes. Beautiful and just so damn green. Barney could get lost, if he wanted. If he looked for just a little too long.

But he has the look in them, again. Soft and welcoming, almost silently pleading with him for… for something.

Barney notices, like a lightning strike, that it’s not love there. Not like he thought. Not quite. Not entirely .

It’s forgiveness .

The realization makes Barney pull his hand away like he’s been burned, stumbling backwards. He balls his fist up, his entire arm shaking. He swallows thickly, his entire chest burning.

Gordon forgives him.

Barney hasn’t even done anything to show remorse or guilt.

Gordon forgives him.

Barney’s barely even been kind to him.

Gordon forgives him .

How is it enough ? How is he enough?

It’s tearing through him like a jagged edge. Barney can barely breathe as he stares at Gordon. He wants to scream. He wants to tear his hair out.

(He wants to drag Gordon up by the collar and ask why? Why do you keep looking at me like that? Don’t you see me? Don’t you see what I’ve done? Please, God, stop looking at me like that and just kill me already.)

He’s blind. He can’t see Barney’s faults, his flaws, his mistakes-- not even when they’re glaring right at him.

Barney’s not a good person, he can’t be, not anymore. Not after this. But Gordon keeps looking at him like he’s the messiah of humanity, instead. Like he’s his entire world.

(He can’t stand it. He can’t. It’s like he’s being torn to pieces.)

So Barney does what he’s always done best. He blinks, steels his expression, and carefully tucks his emotions away.

“Backup is on the way.” He says coldly, looking down his nose at Gordon. “Don’t try anything and… and you’ll be unharmed. Got it?”

He turns and opens the door to the room they’re in. He signals for one of the other CPs standing outside to come in.

Gordon doesn’t respond. He just stares. Barney can’t meet his eyes.

He sighs harshly and takes a moment to collect himself before leaving Gordon behind. He doesn’t look back.

(Not even when he hears the muffled sounds of fighting coming from the room.)

[toxophilitis]

The Preacher’s Hot Family

CHAPTER TEN

Returning home earlier than expected that afternoon, Valarie was completely stunned to find her husband and daughter writhing around on the bed. The blonde was spread out lewdly on her back while her dad was fucking his big cock in and out between her legs.

Valarie couldn't believe what she was seeing. It didn't seem possible that her extremely religious husband who rarely showed any interest in sex could be committing incest with his own daughter. Unable to believe that her husband could be so depraved, she just stared. The trembling woman knew she should stop them... but there was something so erotic about the scene that she could only stand there and watch them fuck.

"Oh, Daddy," she heard their daughter moan. "God, how I love your big hard cock!"

Watching them fuck, Valarie couldn't understand how her husband could have become so depraved that he would fuck his own teen. From the way Tammy's cunt was stretched, Valarie also couldn't understand why the child wasn't screaming in agony.

"Oh, Daddy," Valarie heard the girl whimper with joy as her dad fucked his prick deeper and harder into her pussy. "It feels so fuckin' good! Oooooooooh! I love it... love it!"

Valarie was getting hornier by the second. There wasn't anything that she enjoyed more than a hard cock, and right now the woman was dying to feel a cock fucking deep in her own hot cunt. Deciding to join her husband and daughter on the bed, Valarie quickly removed her clothes. Naked, she hurried across the room, a rivulet of pussy juice dripping from between her legs.

Throwing herself down on the bed with them, Valarie gave her husband's ass a loving smack with her hand.

"Valarie!" gasped the startled preacher. "Mom!" gulped Tammy as her dad pulled his cock out.

"I didn't mean to interrupt anything," Valarie said in a sugary-sweet voice.

"How long has this been going on?" her mother asked.

"Just since yesterday."

"Do you like it?"

"God, yes," said the girl. "Being fucked is the neatest thing in the whole world."

"Well, I guess it's all right then," smiled her mother. "As long as he gives me my share."

Smiling at her husband, Valarie looked down at his thick hard prick, which was completely saturated with their daughter's cunt juice.

"May I taste it?" she whispered. "Help yourself," grinned the man as Valarie lowered her face and stuffed the head of his thick prick into her mouth. His entire body was trembling with excitement when she began running her moist warm tongue all around his slimy prick.

"Shit," grinned Valarie, removing her mouth from his prick. "Her fuckin' cunt juice tastes pretty good."

"Daddy likes it, too," giggled Tammy. "He licks my pussy until I come."

"That's nice," Valarie grinned at her husband. "Maybe I'll try tongue-fucking the teen sometime, myself."

"Really, Mom?" Tammy excitedly panted. "I'd like that."

"Honey," Valarie said, turning to her husband as she lovingly wrapped her fingers around his thick boner, "if Tammy will excuse you, I'd sure like to be fucked by this big hard beauty."

"It's okay with me, Daddy," the girl giggled. "Give her a nice hot fuck like you gave me. I wanta watch."

Still unable to comprehend her husband's depraved lust for their daughter, Valarie lewdly opened her thighs and eased the fat knob of his prick up against the juicy opening of her cunt.

"Come on, honey," she hotly panted. "Show me what kind of a stud you really are."

Flexing his hips, the preacher fucked his lust-swollen cock into the moist slickness of his wife's hotly clinging pussy.

"Mmmmmmmmm!" she moaned with rapture. "That's the way to fuck a cunt! This teen must have really started your motor working."

"Gee, Mom," Tammy excitedly panted, her eyes only inches away from her mother's prick-filled cunt. "You've sure got a lot of cock in your pussy."

"I know darling," she said. "And I love every fuckin' inch of it."

Taking her husband's face between her hands, Valarie pulled his mouth down against her softly parted lips. Trembling with desire, the beautiful woman snaked her tongue deep into his mouth as his cock throbbed hotly in her clasping cunt.

"Oh, God, darling," she whispered when their lips finally parted. "I want you to just fuck me silly."

Still completely dazed by her husband's behavior, Valarie felt him slowly pull his ass back, and then with a wild fuck-thrust, he slammed the length of his boner into the depths of her slippery fuck-hole.

"That's the way to do it!" she shrieked. "Fuck it to me, baby! Just fuck my tail off!"

The preacher realized his wife was dying for a wild fuck, and that was just what he intended to give her. Slamming his fucker into his wife's pussy with all his strength, he was using long hard fuck-strokes, fucking his massive cock into her cunt for all he was worth, increasing the depth and tempo of his hard fuck-thrusts with every stroke, he knew it wouldn't be long before his beautiful redheaded wife would reach a wild climax.

Valarie's hair was flailing all around her lovely face, her hips countering every fuck thrust as she passionately fucked back at him.

"Oh, sweet darling!" she screamed. "Pour the cockmeat to me, honey! Fuck it to me! Fuck me good!"

Watching her dad and mother fucking, Tammy was caressing his humping ass with one hand while she fondled his big hairy balls with the fingers of the other.

"Oh, my God!" he panted, feeling his daughter's fingers teasing his balls as he fucked her mother.

The more the horny girl probed her fingers around the sensitive ring of his asshole, the harder and deeper he fucked his throbbing prick into the hot moistness of Valarie's slippery cunt.

Fucking into his wife with all his strength as Tammy goaded him on by goosing around the hairy crack of his ass, he was suddenly aware that Valarie was rapidly approaching an orgasm.

"Oh, sweetheart!" she sobbed, wrapping her shapely legs around his humping body.

"I'm gonna come!"

Her entire body began jerking and convulsing as she exploded into a wild climax. Screaming with ecstasy, the beautiful redhead clung desperately to her husband as she writhed her hot cunt up around his plunging cock.

"Ooooooooooh... I'm coming!" she screamed, gasping for breath when she suddenly felt his hot jizz gushing into her pussy.

Her nostrils flared and her glazed eyes rolled crazily back in her head as her husband continued shooting his hot cum into her pussy, prolonging the intense climax as wave after wave of orgasmic ecstasy flooded through her body. It wasn't until he'd emptied the last drop of cum into her cunt that he finally pulled his thick prick out of her fuck-hole.

The moment his cock was out, Valarie scooted down and stuffed his dripping cockhead into her mouth. Sucking feverishly on his shrinking boner, she slowly brought it back to life. Within a few minutes, he had another hard-on.

"It's my turn!" Tammy cried out, seeing his cock swelling in her mother's mouth.

"Then take it," giggled her mother, releasing his prick from her mouth.

Not wasting any time, Tammy covered his cockshaft with her baby-soft lips and sucked deep and hard on his thickening cockmeat.

"Oh, Daddy!" she finally cried excitedly. "You're all nice and hard again."

"I know," he grinned. "Now what do you want me to do with it?"

"Empty your cock in my horny cunt," she said, rolling onto her back and lewdly spreading her legs for him.

Thrilled at the thought of fucking his adorable daughter again, the man moved up between her thighs. Cradling her dad between her legs, Tammy reached down and excitedly grasped the thick root of his prick, guiding his big pulsing cock-knob between the slippery lips of her pussy.

"Oh, Daddy," she whispered to him. "I just love it when you fuck me with your nice big cock."

He could see the wild lust in her eyes, and knew the horny girl was going to give him a fuck he would never forget. Wanting to please his beautiful child as much as he knew she was going to please him, he slammed the hard length of his cock all the way into her cunt with one tremendous fuck-thrust.

"Ooooooooooh, yes!" she squealed with delight, feeling his prick spreading her cunt flesh and completely filling her tight pussy. "Fuck me hard, like, you fucked Mom!"

Wanting to give the darling girl something to remember, he began fucking his hard cock into her with long fast strokes. Half crazed by the feel of her father's prick fucking into her, Tammy was rhythmically slamming her loins up to meet every wonderful fuck thrust. Fucking his hot daughter for all he was worth, the man could feel his cock swelling even thicker in the child's fuck-hole.

Watching excitedly as she sat on the edge of the bed with her husband's cum oozing from her cunt, Valarie was amazed at how hard and deep he was pounding his thick fucker into the horny girl's pussy. But from the look of ecstasy on Tammy's face, there was no doubt that she was thoroughly enjoying the brutal fucking her dad was giving her. Watching his thick cock goring their daughter's tight cunt slit, Valarie could see that the girl was having the time of her life. Her eyes were drawn to Tammy's asshole. Staring at the child's ass, Valarie suddenly remembered how fantastic it had felt when men had fucked their fingers up her ass.

As her father increased the tempo of his fuck-thrusts, the wild ecstasy built up in Tammy's loins.

"Fuck me harder!" she squealed. "Make me come!"

Unable to control the wild urges she was having, Valarie reached down between her legs and scooped up a handful of cunt juice and cum which she generously spread around the crack of her daughter's ass.

"What are you doing?" panted Tammy, feeling her mother's finger probing around her sensitive asshole.

"Never mind," her mother excitedly whispered. "Just keep fucking."

As the preacher continued lustily fucking his prick into his daughter's hot cunt, Valarie was trying to force the tip of her finger through the juice-smeared opening of Tammy's asshole.

"Eeeeeeek!" shrieked the girl when her mother's finger suddenly plopped through to the first knuckle. "What are you doing, Mom?"

"Having two holes filled is better than one," her mother giggled. "So keep fuckin' and enjoy yourself."

It wasn't until he heard the girl squeal that the man realized Valarie was fingerfucking Tammy's tingling asshole. From the torrid way Tammy was suddenly fucking back at him, he could tell how much her mother's finger had aroused the horny girl.

"Oh, sweet fuckin' Jesus!" Tammy squealed when her mother rammed the full length of her long middle finger all the way up into the hot squeezing tightness of her buttery asshole.

The preacher was so enthralled with the joys of his daughter's pussy that he'd lost all sense of reality.

Without any warning, the girl's wild orgasm suddenly exploded throughout her entire body as her spasming cunt began convulsing wildly around his fucking prick.

"Daddy!" shrieked the ecstatic girl. "I'm coming, Daddy! Oh, sweet fuckin' shit, how I'm coming!"

Suddenly the man's big muscular body stiffened and she could feel his hot jizz spurting into her cunt. Thick jolts of cum splattered hotly against the sensitive walls of her fuck-hole. Still frantically pumping back and forth, the man continued shooting his hot cum into his daughter's quivering pussy. It was only when the last drop of jism had dribbled out of his shrinking prick that they collapsed on each other's arms.

"My God," giggled Valarie, pulling her finger out of Tammy's shitter. "You sure gave this teen a hell of a wild fuck that time."

Seeing her husband's thick cum oozing from between their daughter's cuntlips when he finally pulled his limp cock out, Valarie suddenly had a wild desire to lap up his tasty cum. Grasping the girl's hips, the horny woman began running her tongue around Tammy's cuntlips, hungrily licking up her husband's frothy jism. When Valarie had cleaned every drop of cock cream from her daughter's pussy, she fucked her tongue into Tammy's pussy, searching for more of the tasty jism.

"Oh, Mom!" squealed, the girl, throwing her knees up over her mother's shoulders. Planting her bare feet near the base of the woman's spine, the girl squeezed her soft thighs against her mother's face.

"Mmmmmmmmmm," purred Valarie into Tammy's open cunt. "You taste so good, honey. God, your pussy tastes good!"

Valarie's tongue was lashing hungrily around in her daughter's juicy cunt slit, licking up the delicious cum that was oozing out of her slippery cuntal flesh. Now, for the first time, she realized the pleasure that men received when they sucked and licked her pussy. Remembering how much pleasure men gave her with their mouths, Valarie began licking feverishly on her daughter's clit.

Rolling onto her daughter's naked body, Valarie threw her arms around the girl as their open mouths met in a deep passionate kiss. With their slippery tongues gliding in and out of each other's mouth, they began grinding their hot moist pussies together. Their erect clits were being wildly stimulated by the feel of hot cunt rubbing against hot cunt.

"Oh, Jesus!" Tammy gasped into her mother's mouth as her hard nipples pressed against her mom's bare tits. "God, your body feels so fuckin' good!"

Moving her body up and down over Tammy's, Valarie was almost out of her mind from the feel of bare tits squishing against bare tits. She hadn't realized how nice a girl's soft warm body could feel.

"Tammy," her mother whispered, "would you like to lick my pussy while I'm sucking your pussy?"

"Oh, yes!" panted the girl. "I'd love to eat your cunt."

Turning around in the sixty-nine position, Valarie pressed her slippery crotch down over Tammy's upturned face, and then leaned forward until her own mouth covered her daughter's cunt mound again.

Looking up at her mother's open cunt poised just above her mouth, Tammy was looking into a pussy for the first time in her life. The pink juicy lips of her mom's cunt slit looked like the open petals of a flower, droplets of cunt juice glistening there like morning dew. She could see her mom's red pubic hairs swirling delicately around the pinkness of her sweet pussy. The most exciting thing was the aroma of the woman's pussy. Grasping the cheeks of her mother's smooth round ass, she pulled the woman's dripping cunt down against her eager mouth. Tammy slipped her tongue up into the hot wetness of her mom's slippery fuck-hole.

"Oh, God," she heard her mom shudder with delight at the feel of a tongue fucking into her pussy. "That's it, honey! Give Mother a good tongue-fuck!"

The girl was thrilled with the pleasure they were giving each other. With her tongue darting deliciously around in her mother's fuck-hole, she could feel the woman nibbling wildly on her clit.

"Oooooooooh, sweet Mother," Tammy moaned, spreading her thighs wider apart to give the cunt-sucking woman more room. "I love it! God, how I love it!"

Tammy's excited pussy seemed to open wider and wider as her mother sucked and tonguefucked her closer and closer to climax.

"Oh, shit!" she shrieked when her mom's lips began sucking more vigorously on her swollen clit. "It feels so fuckin' neat!"

Almost out of her mind with the wild sensations exploding in her loins, Tammy jammed her tongue deeper and deeper into her mother's hot fuck-hole. On and on they sucked in sexual ecstasy, their lewd sixty-nine position offering them easy access to each other's creaming cunt.

"Ooooohhhhh!" Tammy squealed into her mother's pussy. "Here I come! Oh, shit, I'm coming! Coming!"

Valarie began sucking frantically as she felt her daughter's climaxing pussy convulsing around her deeply buried tongue.

"Ooooooh, Mom!" she shrieked. "It's so good! Oh, Christ, it's so fucking good!"

When their shattering orgasms had subsided, mother and daughter untangled themselves.

"Wow!" giggled Tammy, pointing at her father's brand new hard-on. "He's got another hard-on."

"Good," her mother smiled. "I get his cock this time."

As she watched her father crawl on top of her mother, Tammy knew that there would be a lot more hot fucking around this house and that church would be a lot more interesting in the future.

THE END

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Whumptober 19: Survivor’s Guilt

TIMELINE: Takes place in the Iris Michaelson, Teen Badass AU of the Fillis Angst Parade AU - look, @whump-tr0pes and I make our own fun, and by “fun”, I mean we make “Isaac and Finn suffer”.

Basic Plot: Fourteen years ago, Finn Dunham and Ellis Price were taken captive. The team has never been able to rescue them, and knows only that Finn lives life as Patrick Michaelson’s plaything and Ellis teaches at a Syndicate dayschool and tutors the Michaelson’s adopted teenage daughter. When Iris Michaelson sends a message to the famous rebel Isaac Moore, he can’t help but answer it.

CW: Referenced noncon/dubcon, referenced torture

“If this is a trap, I’m going to owe Gavin fifty bucks.” Vera checked and rechecked her handgun, as though it would suddenly be less loaded than it was just a few minutes before. Her jaw was set in a grim line, eyes flashing a kind of damped-down fire, embers ready to spark. Her thick black hair, showing growing hints of gray, was pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and she wore a pair of black pants and a tucked-in t-shirt, ready for the fight she was definitely expecting. “I don’t want to owe Gavin money, Isaac.”

“It’s not a trap,” Isaac replied, making his own nervous check and recheck of the table and chairs. “I don’t think it is, anyway. My instincts are saying it isn’t.”

“Your instincts-”

“My instincts have been spot-on for a decade, Vera. Just trust me on this. She let us pick the day, the time, the location… she let us give her the location with less than four hours’ notice, even. If this is a trap, she’s piss-poor at setting it.”

“Hm.” Vera snorted, and checked the second gun, the rifle they had leaning up, hidden on the other side of a doorframe, where Vera could pick it up and keep shooting if she had to.

If they needed the second gun, it would be because she was buying time for an exit, not because they had a shot in hell of getting a win.

“She wouldn’t have let me pick the spot with such short notice if she was planning on killing us,” Isaac said, but he felt less certain than his voice sounded.

“She’s a teenager, isn’t she? Who the fuck knows why teenagers do anything?”

It was Isaac’s turn to snort, then.

Their scheduled meeting space was a busted-out house an hour outside of the Michaelson Syndicate's largest stronghold city, a hidden place they had used, in the past, to run dissidents out of the city north, always north. A few years ago it’d been compromised, the house was half-burned down in the attack, but there was a room at the back that was still standing… more or less.

The girl had agreed readily to meet here - which Vera didn’t like, such a quick agreement made her think the youngest Michaelson child had some kind of plan, but it was a cleared space and Isaac had put his people all around. If the girl was bringing weapons, well, so were they. 

Isaac had sentries watching for miles around, covering every road. It paid to have his reputation, and have so many people willing to sign on to help him out with this. It didn’t hurt that his reputation meant he’d managed to scrape together enough money to pay them.

Not in money, no - Isaac had traded pallets of flour with boxes' worth of packets of yeast, a couple of beat-up cars that could at least be broken down for scrap, and cough syrup from their carefully hoarded medical supplies. But it had been enough to draw in some people willing to take the risk.

Sentries had reported by radio - one car, following the directions Isaac had given it. No escort cars, no one caught sneaking through the scrubby woods around the house. Just one, single, shining black Michaelson Syndicate vehicle, clearly marked, making no effort to hide.

She was following every rule she’d been given, right down to the tiniest detail.

Still, his nerves were on edge. What the youngest Michaelson child could possibly want with them - what had made her reach out to schedule a face-to-face - had had him up at night ever since the first message had come in, sent via dissidents who didn’t even understand what they were carrying in the envelope that no one dared open until it got to him.

My name is Iris Michaelson and I need your help. I know Finn Dunham and Ellis Price. Please call me. Then a number, everything written in a childish looping cursive, and the sight of Finn and Ellis’s names had meant Isaac could never have stopped himself from calling.

“I wonder-”

“If she wants a way out, I’m not doing it,” Vera snapped, interrupting Isaac’s thoughts, her fraying nerves given away by the edge in her voice. “We can’t handle that kind of heat, Isaac.”

“I can find her someone to go to for that,” Isaac said, not quite in agreement. “We’re not in the business of hiding Syndicate kids.”

“Oh, are we not?” Vera’s dry humor edged on sarcasm. “Because I’m wondering what exactly you think we did with Gavin, then-”

“Anymore. We’re not in the business of hiding Syndicate kids anymore. That was fifteen years ago, are you-”

“Ever going to let it go? Nope. I’m too old to escort a spoiled rotten rich kid into the real world again, and you’re sure as fuck too old to fall in love with another one.”

Isaac felt a smile pull at the corners of his mouth, and shook his head. “Calm, Vera.”

“Isaac, so far you’ve turned Gavin into your goddamn life partner and tried to give Danny fucking Michaelson a place-”

“All I did was give him my name to help him get as far as he and Nate could get, when he was ready.” Isaac ignored the twist of bitterness inside him. “And he never was, was he? He’s still there.”

Some part of Isaac would always wonder why - when given the chance to get out - Danny had chosen to stay.

He sighed, and kept talking. “In any case, that’s not going to happen here. I’m not going to give her safe harbor with us. I’ve already spoken to some other communities, just laying groundwork. If she needs a place to run, she can have it - but she’ll have to give up a tremendous amount of intel to earn her sanctuary.”

“What kind of intel does a fucking fourteen-year-old girl have?”

“Don’t know, but she might have enough. She didn’t drop Danny’s name to meet with me, did you notice? She dropped Finn’s and Ellis’s names instead.” He shifted the chair on the other side, the one she’d sit in, this way and that until he had it just right. His own weapons - he carried two, one under his left arm and one on his right hip, plus another hidden taped under the table on his side - were fully loaded, too. All this to take on a single teenage girl.

Granted, it wasn’t just a teenage girl. Iris Michaelson happened to be the daughter of Patrick and Corrine Michaelson. Danny’s parents, and she was the beloved youngest child of the fucking assholes that had stolen his family, and kept them. The last Isaac had directly seen of Finn and Ellis was them being surrounded by Patrick’s men fourteen years ago as the car with him inside spit gravel and sped away.

Isaac swallowed, tightly, wondering if it was a good sign or a bad one that he rarely teared up when he remembered the moment, now. He’d cried too much for them already, and Iris Michaelson would be here soon.

“Would you have met her if she’d namechecked Danny?”

Isaac shook his head, jaw set firmly. “No.”

“But you will if-”

“Listen, maybe it’s about Finn, or Ellis,” Isaac said, softly. He barely dared hope. “Maybe she’s willing to trade intel on them. We know they’re still alive. We know Finn is-... that Finn has-”

“Yeah,” Vera said heavily. “Maybe. Hell, maybe the daughter has a heart. Anything’s fuckin’ possible, right?”

“Right.” Isaac took a deep breath. He heard the sound of car tires on gravel and raised his head, jaw setting into a determined line. “Here they are.”

“Showtime,” Vera said, voice low. She shifted back until she was mostly hidden in a doorway, covered enough in shadow that she wouldn’t be immediately visible unless she wanted to be. “I’ve got you covered, Isaac, but if it looks like it’s going south-”

“I’ll drop so you can start shooting and cover me until I can fire, too.” 

“Right. Again, just for the record-”

“You won’t owe Gavin money. I promise.” Isaac took a seat on his side of the table. He knew his own people littered the woods around the clearing, weapons at the ready. He’d brought a full fucking team to meet with a teenage girl. But as far as Isaac was concerned, Iris Michaelson might as well be more dangerous than just about anyone else he might meet with.

Isaac knew enough, from his short time with the Michaelson family going on fifteen years ago, to know that their Syndicate wasn’t entirely human.

Crunch of footsteps - Isaac counted. The girl’s steps - lighter, but firm. Projecting a false confidence, Isaac thought. She was trying to sound stronger than she felt. He knew the feeling. A large… man, he guessed, from the time between heavy footsteps. Bodyguard, probably as armed to the teeth as Vera was. He waited to count more but… heard no one. 

Isaac’s eyebrows furrowed, frowning. “Vera-” He turned to look back over his shoulder.

“I heard,” Vera whispered. “Eyes straight ahead, Isaac. I heard it. She’s only bringing one inside with her. Gavin might just owe me money.” Vera’s smile flashed white in the darkness. “Now that idea I like.”

She melted back into the shadows, and when Iris Michaelson entered the room, Isaac would seem entirely alone. 

Iris moved into the room with the unconscious certainty of power that every Syndicate son or daughter carried, although her steps were a little hesitant and her breathing tightly nervous, but that wasn’t what caught Isaac’s eyes. Her head was slightly down, auburn hair catching the dim light, a thick braid down her back with two smaller braids that ran on either side along her head to join the larger on. She also had a small, almost delicate-looking handgun on a small holster on her hip. 

He froze watching the lanky, gawky, all-elbows-and-knees girl in her soft black off-the-shoulder sweater, jeans, and combat boots that cost more than the gun on Isaac’s hip enter the room. He hadn’t seen hair quite that color since…

“Iris Michaelson.” His voice somehow came out even, but he heard himself speak as if from some far away place. His heart had started to race. “You requested a meeting with me?”

She raised her head to meet his eyes, and Isaac’s world broke apart. 

The shape of her face was unmistakable, as was the color of her hair. Her eyes were wide and a strangely startlingly clear hazel leaning towards brown, but…

Isaac heard Vera’s soft gasp behind him and knew she saw it, too.

Iris Michaelson was the perfect spitting image of Ellis Price - except for the fact that she had Finn Dunham’s hair and eyes. 

Iris came to a stop, warily, the hulking bodyguard - a brute of a man who seemed to carry himself with an absurd gentleness, with cropped dark hair and dark eyes in a pale face - that followed close on her heels putting his hand to his gun. Isaac automatically raised both his hands, empty and open-palmed, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

My God, I know who you fucking are, now.

Finn and Ellis had been captured during their flight from the Michaelson stronghold nearly fifteen years ago. They had disappeared into the depths of the Michaelson’s mansion, and every attempt the team made to understand what might have happened had dead-ended into the common knowledge that anyone who went into the Michaelson mansion never came back out of it alive. Isaac had refused to believe they were dead at first, and when no one hunted them down - no one found the safehouses Ellis and Finn knew about, no attacks were made on places the two of them might have given up under torture… he had refused to believe they were broken, either. 

The team had never been able to go back for them, it had been too dangerous a risk even though Isaac had tried and failed and tried and failed again. They’d been… gone. 

Not dead - there’d have been some closure then.

Just… disappeared.

The Michaelsons had adopted a baby girl - philanthropic move, adopting the orphaned child of their employees, a couple killed in an attack by rebels. They'd named her Iris, and she'd been raised as just as much a part of the family as Ryan or Danny. 

Then, shortly after the public announcement of Iris joining the Michaelson family, Finn popped back up. They were kept at Patrick Michaelson’s side, his willing, branded plaything, photographed sitting in his lap at parties, glass of champagne tipped to their lips, eyes dead and empty above a gorgeous smile, head tilted to the side as Patrick's lips pressed into the brand on the left side of their neck. 

Isaac had been shown photos of Finn - with Patrick’s mouth on theirs or their neck or his hand between their legs, Finn with their back pressed up against Patrick’s car like Finn was just an object, even right out in public, even in plain sight. Finn wearing perfectly tailored suits, Finn half-wearing those suits, Finn wearing nothing but a harness of knotted navy blue rope with their legs wrapped around Patrick Michaelson’s waist, smiling and begging for more, harder, deeper… 

Broken and leaning into Patrick’s touch, over and over with that same dead-eyed smile. Standing with Patrick’s arm around their waist, leaning into him, a carefully crafted expression of adoration there. Isaac had shed bitter tears over being too late to save them. Whatever had broken Finn was something Isaac could never have brought them back from.

Ellis… Ellis had been gone for more than four years. The team had eventually assumed Ellis was dead - Isaac had grieved their fucking death. He’d thought losing them must have been what broke Finn, made them give up and resign themself to life in Patrick Michaelson’s bed.

Then… an envelope, and a set of photos Isaac had never expected to see. Ellis, nearly five years after Isaac had last seen them, teaching children at a Syndicate school, heavily guarded but still clearly themself. Smiling for children but expression set in a furious grim line the second no one was looking. Photos snuck out of the city by secret dissidents, Isaac had spent so much of what little money he had on every bit of information he could get about the two of them.

They were miserable, captives held behind enemy lines for more than a decade. But they never tried to run, never tried to contact anyone. Never took the chance. Isaac had managed to leverage people who owed him favors, new and old contacts, but every attempt to get Finn alone at a party had ended in their soft refusal - an insistence that I'm happy living this way, thank you or I love Patrick Michaelson, who could want to escape from living like this? or please, I can’t talk about it, I have to love him - and they’d move back to Patrick’s side - and Ellis was never fucking alone at all.

They weren’t trying to be alone, though, and Isaac just didn’t understand it.

Isaac hadn’t been able to grasp why Ellis could look so unbowed and so… utterly Ellis, and still be there. Still go day by day to the school, teaching children their ABCs, spending their nights and weekends tutoring the Michaelsons’ youngest child like it was nothing. Like it was a life they wanted, evenings and weekends helping raise a fucking Syndicate daughter, a pampered little princess.

It should have been something Ellis would rather die than do.

Isaac had wondered, again and again, what could possibly keep Ellis from trying to escape. Now, staring as Iris Michaelson crossed the room and settled herself in a chair across from him, Isaac understood. 

He understood, and he would have made exactly the same choices they had made, for this.

Ellis had been tutoring their own daughter, grasping for time with her. Doing anything it took not to lose her. And so, in their own way, had Finn. Ellis wouldn’t try to escape because they wouldn’t leave their daughter - Finn was at Patrick’s side to stay as close to Iris as they could get. The two of them had spent fourteen years like this. 

Corrine Michaelson hadn’t taken Iris from a dead employee to raise as her own. 

She’d taken Iris from Ellis. 

The two of them had managed to leverage their captivity to stay close to her, no matter what they had to give up, no matter how much of themselves they had had to give away. Isaac had to blink away tears that blurred his vision, wanting to stare at Iris for as long as he could.

Was this why Danny had stopped contacting Isaac about possibly leaving himself? Had he gone radio silent and stayed here because he didn’t want to leave Iris, either?

She looked up at him uncomfortably, rubbing at one arm with her other hand. It was… strange, to see the child’s roundness in Ellis’s face with Finn’s brown eyes, the hint of nervous shyness that he’d never seen in his friend, his family. But… he couldn’t look away. “What? What are you staring at? I’m adopted.” 

Isaac just blinked, until Vera cleared her throat behind him and Isaac jumped a little, startled out of his thoughts. The world felt like it had just tipped sideways, all of it made sense now, all at once. Puzzle pieces falling to the floor and magically into place. “I-I’m sorry, I just-... I know. I’ve met your brothers-”

“I know.” Iris’s voice was low, but held a sharp edge. “They told me.”

“They did?” Isaac almost asked her what exactly Danny and Ryan had had to say about him, but he could feel Vera’s eyes on his back, and he cleared his throat again. “My apologies. You wanted to meet with m-me?”

His voice was trembling. If he wasn’t careful, he’d cry right here in front of her. How are they? How broken? Is anything left? How much did they lose just to keep you?

“Yes. I, um. I thank you for-... meeting with me today. For agreeing to meet.” Iris’s voice was carefully even, but it shook, too, giving away that Syndicate daughter or not, she was nervous. Probably scared - she didn’t have any good reason to believe Isaac wouldn't just kill her or take her hostage. She’d shown a lot of trust, having just the one bodyguard and probably a driver come with her. She’d shown a lot of courage.

That’s Finn and Ellis for you, Isaac thought, and his throat nearly closed again.

“I-I’m not here for my own sake,” Iris said, quietly, looking slightly down, as if reciting something from memory. Her face was red, and Isaac decided this might be as close to seeing Ellis blush as he was ever going to get. “I don’t-... I don’t. Um. I’m sorry, this is just. Wait, I was supposed to start with-... shit.”

Isaac’s lips quirked in the slightest smile - he heard Vera huff a laugh from her hiding spot. There’s Ellis’s daughter, through and through.

Iris’s bodyguard leaned over, putting a hand on her shoulder, whispering in her ear. He looked up at Isaac, then, without the instinctive loathing or derision that Isaac usually expected from the Syndicate guards he’d gotten into fights with in the past. 

“Right. Right, thanks, David.” Iris put a hand up over the bodyguard’s, looking back at Isaac, sitting up straight again. Her black sweater fell just lightly off one bony shoulder. Loyal to her, Isaac thought, watching the bodyguard. Not Patrick and Corrine. We can use that. He’s not a Syndicate bodyguard - he’s Iris Michaelson’s bodyguard. There’s something there, if I can just figure it out.

Jesus, what had Ryan and Danny said years ago? Not everyone in the Syndicate was human. Was this David human? Or something else?

His heart was pounding. He had to make it through this meeting and then he was going to let himself be crushed under the weight of what he could see only in hindsight, only with Iris sitting here in front of him. Now that he understood that his attempts to save them had been fruitless because they didn’t want to be saved - not if… not if it would take them from their daughter.

He understood, now. He got it, all at once. Finn wouldn’t leave Ellis. Ellis wouldn’t leave Finn. And they wouldn’t leave Iris. 

God, he could feel fourteen years crushing him, all at once. Freedom he’d had and they hadn’t, could never get back. And they’d only been caught because Isaac had been running from being turned into Danny’s unwilling plaything, against both his and Danny’s will.

If he hadn’t let himself be rescued, he could have stayed with Danny and Nate. Danny would have… would have tried to make it feel as close to normal as he could. 

Stop it. You couldn’t have known. You could never have known. This isn’t your fault. This isn’t-... this isn’t your fault.

Felt like it, though. If he’d just… belonged to the Michaelsons - spent his days with Danny - then Finn never would have, would they? They’d be a rebel medic still, probably, not a plaything who spent their time being felt up or worse by the Michaelson patriarch-

Stop it. She’s fucking talking, listen to her, Isaac.

“Ellis,” Iris was saying softly, “is my real mother. And they told me to tell you, um, something that proves-... that proves that I’m here for them. They said… it’s been a while, motherfucker. Is-.. is bitchboy behaving?” 

Isaac closed his eyes, briefly, wanting to laugh and cry and do both at once. Vera huffed a laugh from her position behind him and Iris jumped, glancing back at David, who had a gun up, out, and pointed right at Isaac in less time than it took for Iris to flinch back when she realized Vera was there.

“Hands where I can see them,” David said, voice deep, low, and flat.

Vera stepped out into plain view, holding her gun pointed upwards with the safety on and her finger off the trigger. “Here I am,” She said, carefully. “I’m going to lay this down on that side table. No shooting. Yeah?”

David held steady. “No shooting. I don’t put this down until yours is down.”

Isaac’s hands slipped down, as if lying in his lap, the get a grip on the gun under the table, ready to pull it free and aim. “She’s with me. I promise we’re not planning on hurting anyone today, if you’re not.”

“So have her put her gun down,” Iris said, lifting her chin.

Isaac felt a stab of surreal pride that this near-stranger made her voice so strong, that she seemed so brave. It fit, that Ellis’s daughter would be good at hiding her fears.

“Vera,” Isaac said softly. 

“I’m doing it.” Vera laid her handgun down on the side table and then backed slowly away, hands still up, until she was leaning against the wall. When David’s gun lowered, so did her hands. He reholstered his weapon and everyone let out a breath they hadn’t realized they were holding simultaneously. There was a round of nervous laughter from them all.

Isaac tried to remind himself to just keep breathing. "So... they're still Ellis, definitely. Angry?”

Iris smiled, and you couldn’t mistake that smile for anything but someone who was talking about her mother. “Angry all the time. They’re good with the dayschool, though. I go see them every day, mostly.”

“And… and Finn?"

There was a pause, and Iris’s eyes dropped. She picked at a loose thread on her sweater. "They're, um." Iris paused, and Isaac heard her shift in her chair. "They're… very sad. All the time. With my father-”

Isaac winced. “He’s not your-”

“I know. But he is my father, too. Please don’t-... please let me talk.” Her voice did tremble, then, and Isaac went quiet. “With my father, and around everyone who works with us, they seem mostly happy, I guess. I know my fathers love each other-”

“Bullshit,” Vera said, her voice flat. “They don’t love him.”

Iris didn’t look up. “They do,” She insisted. “They do love each other, but… but when I’m alone with Finn, they’re… they’re very sad. And they don’t love him any longer. Did you… do you know them? They told me stories, but they didn't-... there were always other people around, so-"

"So they didn't tell you everything."

"No. But… but I-... I want to get them - Ellis and Finn - away from my, um. My family."

Isaac wasn't thinking about self-protection. If Iris had wanted to, she could have had her bodyguard kill him, in that moment, his eyes closed and his guard down. He leaned slowly forward and put his head in his hands, the silence drawing out. No one drew a weapon. No one fired.

Isaac felt the punch of pain, anyway, the tears running down his face. 

That's not your family, Iris. We are. Or we were supposed to be. 

“Do they know-”

“Ellis knows. I mean, my mother knows.” Iris laughed, airily, and Isaac looked up through his hands to see the piercing sadness in her features, the blend of her mother and father so deeply written in every single gesture, each expressed emotions. “I’m not allowed to call them that, so, so I hope you don’t mind if I just do it all the time, for right now? My mother knows. But-”

“Finn doesn’t know?”

Iris swallowed, and glanced back at David, who looked impassively down at her, but he kept his hand on her shoulder. “No, Daddy doesn’t know.”

Isaac’s breath hitched. Daddy-

“I can-... I’m sometimes allowed to call them that. I call, um, my father is just… Father. Or Da, sometimes, he likes Da. But Finn isn’t-... Finn doesn’t know that we’re meeting today. They know I want to, and they know I’m doing something, but we can’t tell them what or when or any details.”

“Why not?” That was Vera - but there was a set to her jaw, and a tension to her words, that suggested she knew the answer before Iris ever spoke it out loud.

“Because… if Father asks them, they’ll tell him anything. Everything. Anything they know.”

Isaac breathed out. Slowly, slowly, trying to control the despair threatening to well up inside of him. “They’re tortured?”

“Um. Not… not exactly. They just… will. Father will ask, and he’ll… kiss them, or something-” Iris’s nose wrinkled in something like disgust. “Which, watching your fathers kiss is pretty weird, for the record-”

“No doubt,” Vera murmured, “When one of them doesn’t want to.”

“Um. Sort of.” Iris’s expression shifted - something Isaac couldn’t read there - and she shrugged. “In any case. He’ll ask, and they’ll tell, sooner or later. So Ellis - my mother, God, it’s so nice to say that out loud just like that - says they can’t know, it has to be a surprise for them. So we, um, we kind of have to abduct Finn, but-... but they’ll go, we just-... have to make it a surprise abduction.”

“As opposed to the usual kind, where you send a note they can RSVP to,” David rumbled behind Iris, and she shot him a brilliant smile over one shoulder, bumping her shoulder into his side.

“Anyway… my uncles Nate and Danny know. Nate and Ellis trade books a lot, they’ve been hiding messages in them.”

“Nate Vandrum,” Vera said. “Loyal to Danny Michaelson, not his last name. Which means…”

“Which means Danny wants in on this, wants to get them out.” Isaac ignored the odd little thrill of nostalgia. One week, fourteen years ago, and it had ended in disaster. And still part of him leapt at the idea of seeing Daniel Michaelson again. “Why now?”

“Because…” Iris took a breath, closed her eyes. Opened them again, and Isaac was caught all over again by how thoroughly Finn those eyes were, but full of all the sparkling life and light that was missing from Finn’s in every photograph taken since their disappearance, since they’d been turned into a plaything, but something worse and more than that.

Playthings are discarded. They die or get paid off to disappear. 

But Finn… Finn had been at Patrick Michaelson’s side for fourteen years. They were far more than a plaything. Patrick introduced them, Isaac had been told, as his consort. Like a fucking monarchy. 

What were Syndicates, really, but petty fucking kings and queens with little kingdoms where their word was law? Why wouldn’t Patrick style himself king, and style Finn something like consort, or concubine, or-

Or royal fucking whore-

His hands had closed into fists, palms aching where his nails were digging in. Isaac forced himself to slowly, carefully relax them. 

“Because what, Iris?” Vera had moved closer up behind Isaac, and he felt her hand settle warmly onto his right shoulder. A comfort - and Vera could reach down and take a gun from Isaac’s underarm holster in less time than it took to catch a breath. 

“Because, um.” Iris picked at her manicured fingernails, then looked up from under her lashes at them both. “Because I want to go with them, with you. I want-...” She swallowed, again and again. “Because I don’t want them to hurt anymore. Because Daddy’s so fucking sad, for me, and-”

“It’s not your fault,” Isaac said, his voice strangled, caught in his throat.

It’s mine, for taking the opportunity to run and never seeing that my freedom would be paid for with theirs.

“They’re ready because I’m ready. I want to be with my family, just the three of us. I want-... I want them to be my family. And Ellis said Isaac Moore was the only person they could think of who could ever get all three of us out alive.”

“No pressure, though,” Vera said softly.

“None at all,” Isaac said. He was floating. He was a thousand miles away. He was barely tethered to earth. “Well… fuck.”

“Fuck indeed.” Vera’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “We’re doing this, right?”

“Of course we are.” Isaac watched Iris from across the table, and then did his best to smile for her. “Okay, Iris Michaelson-”

“Iris Dunham-Price,” She countered, and Isaac nearly choked on a mix of pride and grief. “I mean. I hope to be. Once we’re out.”

“Iris Dunham-Price, then. You have yourself a deal. You want to help your family escape, and escape with them. I’ve-... I’ve been waiting to bring my family home for fourteen fucking years. So let’s both get what we want, okay?”

“Okay.”

Isaac held out his hand, and Iris held out hers. Her fingers were thin, but she shook his hand with a firm grip. 

“Deal,” Iris said, nodding once.

“Ellis teach you to shake hands that way? Thought you’d crush all my bones for a second.”

Iris laughed, really laughed, for the first time she’d entered. 

Her laughter sounded exactly like Finn’s.

---

@astrobly @slaintetowhump @finder-of-rings @orchidscript @burtlederp @whumpiary @sableflynn @moose-teeth

[rankdisasster]

whipped

Billy Hargrove x fem reader

“can you do something with billy where like she has to babysit the party but it’s also date night so she drags billy with her and they all pile up on the couch to watch a movie either scary or romantic and everyone is shocked how gentle and caring billy is because they’re used to see him in a scary way thank youuu” requested by @allabouthargrove​

word count: 3,554

warning(s): swearing

a/n: I loved this idea! thank you for letting me write it, and I will sorta admit I got a teensy bit carried away? c’mon tho we need Billy bickering with the kids, that would’ve been so adorable to see. had trouble since there’s so many characters, I chose to have just 4 out of all of the kids to be there since writing that many characters was a little daunting to me. enjoy:)

—

“Babe, I’m just saying that they’re old enough to fuck off and do whatever they want while their folks are gone. When we were their age we never had a sitter that read fuckin’ bedtime stories and cuddled us all night,” Billy reasons, grumbling as he rips apart the third bag of popcorn he’s made so far for tonight’s movie night with the kids. He shoves the movie snack in the microwave and slams it, huffing more complaints under his breath about hating the children for not allowing him his one-on-one time with his girlfriend.

You’ve of course noticed by now this far in the relationship you’ve shared with Billy how high his temper can elevate to. Maybe it’s directed to someone else, such as his dad (whom infuriates him the most, and rightfully so). However, his anger has never taken a tole on you. Ever. Maybe there’s a sprinkle of a disagreement between the two of you here and there, but he’s proven himself more than worthy of your trust. Thick and thin, he has been outstanding at comforting you and never lashing out at you if he had a hard day.

With that being said, his relationship with the kids is a different story.

Billy blatantly shows his disapproval and not to mention distaste for Dustin and Lucas in particular, whom have shown interest in his little sister. Nothing’s escalated to a full on fight before, he’s never stooped that low to throw hands on a kid. Although Billy vows to protect what’s his and he knows what goes through their heads, given that he was once their age and in awe of girls. So you could imagine the internal battle the teen is going to be fighting, having to sit pretty and stay calm for the sake of his girlfriend. Yes, he could have just skipped the ordeal entirely, maybe reschedule their date for when things could be a little more private. But when you offered that he could still come over while you babysit, with your goddamn puppy eyes and gentle pleas of desperation, fuck him if he can’t say no, alright?

Billy promised to be on his best behavior, but his patience has already worn thin and none of the kids have even arrived yet.

You sigh before sauntering over to where he stands, idly watching the transformation of the popping corn in the microwave with his hands on his hips. Turning his chin so that he meets your eyes, knowing that eye contact always seems to force him to snap out of it, you speak lowly in his ear.

“Listen, I get that they’re not your favorite to hang out with, but I promised you a little something if you play nice, didn’t I?” you pet his dirty blonde curls, another tactic for persuading Billy that you’ve learned. His pout fades a little, and he turns away before muttering a moody “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Hey, look at me. Billy,” you request, turning his head gently once more. His blue eyes meet yours.

“Things’ll be just fine. You’ll do great, I know it. Because I didn’t fall in love with an asshole, I fell in love with you.”

How the fuck is Billy supposed to argue that?

—

All at once, the kids come as promised at seven, riding their bikes to your garage. It’s Mike, Lucas, Dustin and Will that have been put under your wing for the night. Max has been on vacation to visit her side of the family, and El is spending her night watching Miami Vice with her dad. Steve wasn’t available either, working tonight at Family Video, which makes the perfect coincidence that you and Billy were to watch them together.

Dustin and Lucas were equally weary about Billy’s attendance at your movie night, shakey and worrisome about getting into it with your boyfriend. Will, however, could really care less. Billy never had any beef with him, probably because he never tried hitting on his sister.

“I’m just saying, Lucas, it would’ve been a good idea if we brought protection! We know he won’t hesitate to fucking murder us, so we need to be prepared!” Dustin whisper-shouts, his anxiety clouding his proper judgement. Lucas rolls his eyes and pushed the curly haired boy’s shoulder, knowing how ridiculous and sensitive he can get. Yes, Billy scares him shitless too, but he has faith in Y/N to tame the wild beast.

“You guys are idiots. God, Dustin, just shut up already. He would’ve killed us a long time ago if he planned on it, he’s had like a hundred chances already,” Mike complains, thinking that that’s somehow going to serve as reassurance to his friends. Dustin’s eyes grew impossibly wider than they already were, and Lucas curses under his breath before the door is ripped open in front of them.

Billy is the one to greet them at the door, chest puffed out as he eyes the shorter boys. He then leans on the side of the door, mocking them with one hand on a hip and a smirk playing his face.

“Well well well,” the older boy says. Without turning around and breaking eye contact with any of the middle schoolers, he shouts to get your attention. “Babe! Your Goonies are here!”

From inside the house in the living room, you squat in front of the television as you continue attempting to set up the film you chose.

“Yeah? And are you gonna let them in?” you ask, already smelling his alpha male behavior from a mile away. Billy reluctantly gives in, knowing he couldn’t deny you of anything you want, and opens the door wider to let the dorky dwarfs in. One at a time, they all rush to get inside, with a quiet Will being let in first by Billy, then come Mike second, and Lucas third. Dustin swallows audibly and keeps his eyes glued to his shoes as to not give the older boy any reason for trouble, and nearly loses it when he’s stopped by a hand on his chest.

“It wasn’t me, I swear! It was all Lucas’s idea, he was the one who was gonna hit on M—“ Dustin is quick to throw Lucas under the bus to save his own ass, and Billy would be lying if he said it didn’t make him wanna laugh for days. Of course this one kid in particular is the narc of the bunch. Makes sense.

“You agreed that you’d be civil, Billy! Ten seconds, you lasted not ten seconds!” you scold him as you march over to the door, livid enough to scare Billy back to being nice again. Without any further stalling, Billy looks down in what the kids see as shame, which they didn’t think he was even capable of feeling, then allows the ballcap wearing kid inside. Like a completely different person than he was not even five seconds ago, has he been fucking possessed, he walks over to where you stand and look knowingly at him. With a kiss on the cheek, and a whisper that none of the younger ones are able to hear, you’re back to normal and Billy is unusually quiet.

All the boys watch the show, seeing him go from alpha dog to obedient puppy instantaneously. Dustin mouthed ’what the fuck was that’ to Mike, baffled by the affect you had on the malicious blonde.

Mike rolls his eyes as he takes off his coat before muttering, “Love makes people crazy. And weird. But mostly crazy.”

—

“Billy was oh so very kind enough to make all you guys popcorn for the movie we’re watching tonight,” you squeeze Billy’s hip when you refer to him before he yelps and blushes. All the kids have no fucking idea how this monster has transformed, blushing because a girl touched him.

“Uh, thanks,” Dustin awkwardly reaches for one of the bowls of popcorn, hasty when he takes a piece and puts it in his mouth, trying to play detective to see if Billy put something in it.

When you and Billy walk to the kitchen he starts a dramatic coughing fit and lets out a string of curses, spitting it out then warns Lucas that he thinks it was poisoned.

“Everything okay out there?” You check in after hearing odd commotion, pulling away from the kisses that Billy was sprinkling all over your neck.

“Yeah, Dustin just choked on a kernel. He’ll be just fine, won’t you, Dusty?” Lucas harshly pats the boy’s back in an effort to cover up his stupidity as an accident. Will shakes his head at his dumb friends, but offers to eat it if he doesn’t want it.

“Hey Y/N, when are we starting the movie? We didn’t come here to sit and wait around, you know!” Mike calls out, all four of them going to the kitchen to see what the hold up was before peeking at quite a sight. It was you sitting on the kitchen counter, Billy between your legs, exchanging kisses and whispers of promises for what’s to come later as he softly combs his fingers through your hair keeping it out of your face. All four of their jaws dropped at the nauseating poster of pure tenderness being displayed in front of their eyes. The other hand that wasn’t in your hair was rubbing your waist, and it didn’t even look that sexual, instead looking just so goddamn loveable that it nearly made them all simultaneously hurl.

“I’ll — We’ll be out there in a minute, guys,” you stutter and laugh when Billy makes a face then traces a sweet line down your jaw with his thumb. “We’re making more popcorn!”

“Okay, no they’re not. That’s not what making popcorn looks like,” Dustin shakes his head and fakes a gagging sound.

“No shit, doofus. Who the hell would ever think Hill-Billy Hargrove could ever be that in love with someone who’s not himself,” Mike mumbles, before wordlessly throwing a pillow that lands directly at Dustin’s face.

When you and Billy finally emerge from the kitchen after whatever gross activities that high schoolers do, nothing but bickering is to be heard. You surrender with a shrug and an empty apology before pressing play on the film.

“So what is it that we’re watching, exactly?”

“Nightmare on Elm Street,” Billy answers the curly haired boy, not taking his eyes off the screen or his hands off Y/N. You two have somewhat of an unspoken language, communicating with nods and gestures that none of the middle schoolers can wrap their heads around. You’d nod your head to the bowl if you’d like to be fed a piece of popcorn, and without any protests on his end, your boyfriend feeds it right to you and then grabs a handful for himself. Mike wants to throw up, Dustin wants to die because of the horrible movie choice, and Will simply sits tight and kicks back his feet, somewhat enjoying himself.

“Uh, who the hell picked this garbage for us to watch?” Dustin asks, shoving his toothless mouth full of the buttery snack.

“The lady gets to pick whatever we do and whatever we watch, because she was sweet enough to even let you come over in the first place,” Billy spits, before earning a certain look from you that says ’you know better’ making him shut his trap. He nestles his face into your neck as a sheepish way to say he’s sorry, that he’ll try better before you get excited when asking him for another one of his heavenly massages. Billy is the number one champion at getting all the knots that sit in your shoulders and your neck out, and he never complains about doing the job either. He loves pleasing you. Turning to the side to give him a better angle at your back, he gets right to work and even puts his elbow into the mix. He always loves the soft sounds you let out from how pleasant the sensations are.

“Mm, you like it here? Want me to go up higher?”

“No no, it’s perfect right there. Wait, little lower. And harder. Yeah, that’s it,” you guide him and he follows your directions flawlessly, ignoring the glares from the dwarfs that have to sit and listen to this shit.

“Should’ve brought those barf bags that they use on planes,” Mike grumbles, turning his head back to the television where Johnny Depp is talking on the phone in a crop top. Freddie Krueger has yet to fuck shit up and kill people, but Dustin still covers his eyes and hides in Lucas’s shoulder.

Halfway through the movie, after Billy had given up massaging you given the cramp that started up in his hands, he gets bored. So bored, in fact, that fucking with the kids sounds like the perfect entertainment for right now. His girl is still nestled under his arm, and he’s sure as shit proud that you barely even flinched while watching Freddie slit numerous bodies open, cheap scare after cheap scare. And then the perfect idea comes to him.

“You know, I actually read somewhere that this movie’s based on a true story.”

Dustin snaps his head to the teenage blonde and gasps aloud, hiding further into the blankets. You on the other hand laugh at the absurdity and his attempt at scaring the kids, but allowing him to continue. It’s the first time he’s actually spoken to them without making a threat or ridiculing the boys anyway.

“You’re shitting me.”

Billy shakes his head, somehow in some way keeping a straight face as he stirs up even more complete utter bullshit. “Nope. They say that there really was a guy in a fedora that would come to you in your dreams, and if he killed you in your sleep, you’d die for real.”

The kids begin to outrage.

“Alright, that’s just—“

“Nuh-uh, no way, man. I’m never getting a second of sleep ever again!”

“Now WAIT a second, that can’t possibly be possible!”

And that’s where you draw the line, deciding they’ve had enough. “Okay, guys, GUYS! He was joking. That was his attempt at a joke,” you silence the chaos, while Billy sits there with a shit eating grin at the gasoline he poured into the fire. He could rile them up without even lifting a finger, and he was happy about that.

“You’re a goddamn demon! Jesus!” Dustin roars, pointing a finger at Billy as he sits and stares, not intimidated by the Little Red Riding Hoods that threaten him.

“Demon Jesus? Never heard of that one,” he smirks, getting up and throwing a blanket over the kid’s face. Dustin scrambles to shove it off him, annoyed at how Billy is Mister Nice Guy to Y/N but a fucking asshole to everybody else entirely.

“Shut up you guys, I wanna finish the movie already,” Will objects, trying to turn the sound up on the television to tune out the dispute. After the whole house finally seems to settle down and finish it up, you end up asleep and cuddled into Billy’s entire side as he pets your arm as to soothe you even though you’re not even awake, Will’s knocked out on the floor, same goes for Dustin and Lucas. The only ones left that haven’t yawned once are Billy and Mike.

It’s somewhat awkward when the credits begin to roll, giving the two boys no more room for something to do as they uncomfortably lay in silence. Mike almost wants to pretend to be asleep just to ditch any attempt at conversation Billy may potentially try, but it’s too late when they accidently make eye contact.

“Um, I’m gonna tuck her in to her bed real quick,” Billy whispers, holding up a finger to his lips to make Mike stay quiet. The younger boy nods in understanding, and then Billy carefully gets up from the couch and grabs you bridal style before carrying you to your room. When he comes back, Mike is still staring at the ceiling, thinking loud enough for Billy to want to say something to the kid.

“I was just messin’ with you kids, uh, about the movie being real and all. I didn’t know it’d piss all you off that much,” he scratches the back of his neck. Mike nods again, assuring him it didn’t freak him out nearly as much as it did his other two dweeb friends.

“Um, would it be cool if I asked you something?” the younger boy whispers after he gets up to join Billy in the kitchen, thankfully more private and away from all the sleeping figures in the living room. Billy stays standing but nods at the chair, signaling Mike to sit. He complies before awaiting an answer.

“Depends on what you ask.”

“Um, you seem really good at like, how to treat a girl. You’re usually terrifying but tonight I witnessed you hand feeding Y/N and giving her a massage for like an hour, not to mention the kissing and other gross stuff, but I just don’t get it,” he finishes, not knowing if he worded any of that right. And also worrying about getting punched for even asking.

“What don’t you understand?” Billy furrows his brows, unaware of what he was being asked here. “I love her and respect her. Which is what you’re supposed to do,” he answers, opening the fridge to grab a beverage. He looks back at Mike, then back to the fridge, then wordlessly snatches a Caprisun and throws it at Mike who barely catches it in time.

“No! No I know but I just—“

“Shh,” the older boy scolds, whispering for Mike to keep his voice down. He shakes his head then beckons the boy to come out back with him. Mike, somewhat frightened and confused, follows his lead not knowing where this conversation is leading. Billy takes a seat on the lawn chair before pulling a pack out of his back pocket, taking a stick out and putting it between his lips.

“Wanna elaborate then, please?” he scoffs with the cigarette in his lips, searching every pocket and even the outside table for a lighter. Mike stands stiffly as he fumbles to do as he was asked.

“I wanna know how you did it, y’know, got all that ‘feelings’ stuff down and then get to the good stuff,” Mike stumbles.

Billy, having found a lighter, pauses as he burns the top of his cigarette then takes a puff before letting out a laugh of disbelief.

“You’re comin’ to me for advice on how to get with my own goddamn sister.” Billy concludes. “Well, I’ll have you know that if you or any of you twerps lay a fucking finger on her I’ll—“

“Woah woah woah, no. That’s not what I want, okay! Your sister is annoying and gross,” Mike defends himself, even holding his hands up in some sort of pussy way to protect himself.

Billy pulls another face, huffing smoke out his nose akin to a dragon before getting even angrier.

“Don’t you dare call her that either, motherfucker!”

“So you don’t want me liking her or hating her. Makes perfect sense,” Mike gives him attitude, seemingly forgetting who he’s talking to.

“Hey, shitbird. I don’t want any of you piss-for-brains even near Maxine, but if you’re not talking about her, who the hell are you talking about?” Billy wonders, finding himself actually curious for once about middle school gossip.

“Wait, it’s not that little girl named after a number, is it?”

Mike’s avoidance serves as a confirmation.

Billy chuckles as he blows out more smoke, then even offers the middle schooler a hit, raiding his brows. He knows how bad the girl trouble gets, especially at that age when you have no idea what’s going on and why girls are hot and make you nervous all the sudden.

Mike’s face scrunches up in disgust.

“Dude, Y/N would kill you if she saw you offering me that.”

“That’s... yeah, you’re right. Pretend nothing happened,” Billy agreed.

“Okay. So were you just planning on making fun of me and then suggesting I smoke, or—“

Billy puts his hand up to silence him.

“Kid, I learned through bad experiences. But it takes the right girl that forgives and forgets when you fuck up. A special girl, not just the first one that walks by,” he explains, ashing the last of his spliff and putting a hand on Mike’s shoulder.

“Y/N did that? Forgive you and forget all the messed up shit you pulled?” he asks.

“Well, yeah. Only ‘cause she loves me. And she keeps me in line,” he fiddled with the ring on his middle finger as he speaks, still giddy and lovesick even after all this time he’s been with you. Mike doesn’t find it cute in the slightest, he snorts at it even, but takes his advice and keeps it at heart. He mutters ”whipped” on his way back inside, before gasping as a hand yanks on the back of his shirt, forcing him backward.

“Good luck with the girl, kid. But I’m holding you responsible for keeping your friends the fuck off my sister.”

—

had to put a dash of mileven in cause adorable, and when I pictured Billy offering the kids a smoke I laughed and knew it had to be written. hope this didn’t suck!