#bunny writes

[bunnys-kisses]

john price - a ramble cw: pwp, chokehold, daddy kink, breeding, possessive behaviour, baby trapping, drabble, dark-ish themes(?)

price can be a bit of a asshole. he loves seein' his girl squirm in his arms as he thrusts into your tight cunt. you couldn't fit him the first time you got together. he spent all night working your pussy until you were wet enough to let him fuck you. but you were such a good girl for him, weren't ya? he held you almost a choke-hold, not hard enough to cut the air but enough to keep you under him. he heard your pathetic little noises, 'you know when daddy's rough with ya? let me take what i want, because you're my good girl." his voice was like thunder in the back of your mind. you made a pathetic little noise and he moved your head up to face him. he heavily made out with you as his heavy balls hit against your ass. he told you he had breedin' balls and you weren't leaving his sights until he got you nice and bred. but don't worry, he'll take good care of ya. daddy makes sure his girl is right as rain.

"my girl." his voice was like heaven. your brain felt like goo that was daring to slip out your ear. you ignored all the red flags, the possessiveness, the willingness to breed you without as much as a conversation about it. you knew logistically he was tryin' to baby trap you. but the heat in your gut was yelling for the feelin' of price's cum in your pussy. to know he claimed you as his. a mark you couldn't get rid of. it made all the chemicals in your brain ignore the rational side of it. you choke out a moan as he squeezed your throat a little tighter. his cock rammed into your pussy. he spewed more filth into your ear as he moved. the bed squeaked under you. he said in a low ton, his accent thick on his tongue, "my good girl. ya, you know you are. that's why you'll never run and hide from me. because if you do, yeah? ya know what would happen?" his breath was hot on your ear, "i'd find ya, hunt ya to the corners of the earth. my baby girl ain't gettin' away that easy." he chuckled, "but you're just so good to me. you'd never leave me. you love me." love was heavy on his tongue. you whimpered in response, your head was swimming. he turned your head to look over your shoulder so he could kiss you. he was domineering, he was possessive and at times a man that you should be afraid of. but you could only bury your head in the pillows and let out a string of pathetic moans. his cock kept you full, you were drunk off it. the whole night you had been together, as he took you apart and examined what made you tick. what made his baby girl feel so good.

and you'd let him. as he came inside of you for the first time that night. you let him be the controlling freak he was. mark you, claim you, own you. if anyone saw you in that moment, they'd think you were a joke to feminism. but you moaned into the pillows and arched your back, so for the second round he could press against your cervix even. his soft words made you see stars, "that's it. that's a good girl."

but in the end, no matter how much you thought otherwise, you were price's good girl <3

[bunnyreaper]

simon is your most precious bear, but he won't settle for just that.

(18+/MDNI, plushophilia, mild moment of dubcon?)

you'd found him in a charity shop one day and couldn't walk away without him in your arms--the most darling little bear you've ever seen. 

the stitching on his button eyes was barely present, the threads on his body were also loose, and his fur was a little more than worse for wear. usually a sign of a bear well-loved, but you got the feeling looking at him and his missing smile that his state wasn't from something entirely different. 

you'd taken him home and treasured him ever since. restitched his eyes and his precariously hanging limbs, polished his little plastic nose and tied a ribbon around his neck.

you'd tried sewing in a smile underneath his cute little nose, but found the expression didn't quite suit him. when you tried again, arching the stiches downward, you found you much preferred him as your grumpy bear anyway.

once he was pampered and restored, you sat him pride of place on your pillow, having him guard you and keep watch over your bed whenever you weren't in it. at night you held him close, squeezed him tight until you drifted off to sleep--dreams that are always so sweet and peaceful, and you swear it's because he keeps the nightmares at bay. 

little did you know of the soul trapped inside--simon.

he'd fallen in love just as you had, obsessed with the way you'd looked at him and never stopped looking--obsessed with the way you cared for him and held him. he'd never liked being trapped as a bear until you took him home, where he belonged. 

now he took his role as your stuffie very seriously. and clearly, it paid off, as he quickly became the favourite of all your plushies--the one you treasured above all others.

fair to say simon had captured your heart, and in turn, he was always doted on and adored by you. never was he allowed to slide off the bed to be forgotten, never was there a day that went by where he wasn't kissed or cuddled by you.

but sometimes he had to be moved from his place, his spot. when you had visitors over, he'd be replaced in the bed by strange figures, stuck on the nightstand as a spectator to it all.

the comforts they provided were different, bringing bitten lower lips and breathy moans rather than sweet smiles and gentle whispers. and all the while simon was trapped, doomed to watch other men in the bed the two of you shared--knowing deep down in his stuffing that if he were just human again, he could do a much better job. 

late one night, after another visitor, you return to the comfort of your bed with simon clutched between your arms. you squeeze him as tight as you can--a sweet, satisfied smile leaving you as you hold him close and embrace the comfort and safety he provides.

"one of these days, they won't be disappointing." you sigh, releasing your disappointment and unknowingly unleashing wishful magic

it's then simon feels it, something inside him he hasn't felt in so long, as his body shifts from bear to man. 

he should do something about the way you scream, soothe you as he usually does, but right now, there is nothing calming or comforting in the way he feels right now--just pure posessive lust. codependant, ugly love. 

simon takes advantage of his newfound form, using muscular arms to crush you into the bed, determined to make up for lost time no matter what it takes. his dick hardens instantly, so used to the feel of your body against him and yet intoxicated by all the new sensations.

he expects you to keep struggling, to fight back in disbelief, but when the shock wears off he delights in the way you look at him--just as enamoured as you had the first time you ever laid eyes on him.

[coryosbaby]

I am BEGGING you to write about hannigram x innocent fem reader. mayyyybee featuring age gap and breeding? :) she just asks them "what does break my belt mean?" and oh..

Caretaker… Hannigram x fem! Reader

Synopsis: it’s up to Will and Hannibal to take care of you, however that may be.

Content warning . 18+, MDNI age gap (reader is in her early 20s), spanking/usage of belts, punishments, dumbification, threesome, cum play, daddy kink . hard dom! Hannibal, soft dom! Will

Author’s Note: I didn’t know how to go about this (my brain isn’t braining rn) so I did smth similar :) this is literally pure filth like Im ovulating sorry

‧₊˚ 🩰 ⋅* ‧₊

“You need to stop being so hard on yourself.”

Will’s voice is soft as he gently rubs your sock clad feet, watching the small wince that you make when he grazes over a bruised toe. You adjust yourself on your bed, bottom becoming numb from how long you’ve been sitting. You slide the sleeves of your dress back up on your shoulders— they have a hard time staying up, and it’s something that annoys you incredibly.

“He’s right,” Hannibal chimes from the cushioned seat in the corner of the room. He closes the book in his hand and sets it on the desk beside him. It’s funny, how different these two men look in your pink, frilly room. “You’re working yourself too hard, little one.”

You frown, feeling the bed dip as Hannibal joins you and Will’s side.

“But ballet is important to me.”

“So is your health,” Will replies, and notices the way you seem to fidget in your dress. “Is your dress bothering you, baby?”

You nod, heat creeping up your neck when Will lifts the hem of it over your head. Now clad in your bra and cotton panties, you feel open and exposed. But since it’s Hannibal and Will, you feel safer than you’ve ever been.

“Come here,” Will says, and you crawl over to the place in between his spread thighs as he leans against your headboard. Hannibal follows in quiet suit, moving to Will’s side and holding your hand in his much larger one. Will’s hands play with your hair as you think back to something you’d been wanting to ask the two for a while.

“Can one of you use your belt on me?”

The soft scrape against your scalp stops at the question.

“What?”

“I mean,” you mumble, cheeks flaring. “I was watching a video.. ‘n.. the guy, he—“

“You’ve been watching naughty videos?” Hannibal inquires. You shake your head, wide doe eyes flashing.

“No!” You reply, too quickly. “No, of course not.”

“Hmm,” the man shifts, gripping the soft skin of your jaw gently with his hand. Looking into your eyes, he can see the deceit in them. “You have, haven’t you? You know what we say about those videos, darling. They’re bad for you,” he looks back to the other man in the room. “Maybe we will have to spank her after all. Don’t you think, Will?”

“Play nice, Hannibal,” Will warns, though his mouth pulls into a small, amused smirk. “She’s sensitive. Probably doesn’t even know what she’s asking for.”

“I do.” you whine, pawing at the sleeve of Hannibal’s suit. He chuckles, thumb rubbing gently over your wrist.

“Come here then, little one,” Hannibal coos. “Over my knee.”

Your eyes widen, pouty lips dropping open in awe.

“Now?” You squeak.

Will rolls his eyes, patting you softly on the arm.

“You heard him, Bunny. Go on.”

Getting on your hands and knees, panty clad ass now revealing the puff ball bunny tail on the back of the fabric, the two of them think you’re the cutest little thing they’ve ever seen. You hear the sound of a belt buckle being undone, and watch as Will hands over his belt to Hannibal. It’s your favorite one, plain black but with a belt buckle that has your initials imprinted. Will wears it often— he’s not one to have flashy accessories, but since it was a gift from you he cherishes it dearly.

Since Will is on Hannibal’s left side, you decide to position yourself with your face directed towards him. This leads to your arms and face being smooshed against Will’s thighs, and he gently rubs your head with his hands. Hannibal hums when your ass lifts up for him, bunny tail flickering as you move your hips to get his attention.

“We should keep these on, don’t you think?” He says, fingers grazing over the bunny tail. “Too precious to pull them down, lover.”

You nod shyly, letting out a puff of air when Will’s fingers begin fumbling with the hooks on your bra. He advises you to slide the straps off your shoulders when he undoes them, and you awkwardly shuffle them off. Will’s hands move around your back to grope one of your breasts. The feeling of cold leather against your backside makes you whimper, and Hannibal positions his hand on the bottom of your thigh.

“Move your hands behind your back,” Hannibal demands. “You aren’t in any position of control. If you want to stop, you know the rules.”

“Yes, daddy,” you reply, almost immediately. You move your arms back to link them together, Will’s hands gripping the both of yours tightly to make sure you don’t move.

“Good girl,” and then, “You’re going to count each one I give you. We will stop at ten since this is your first time.”

You nod, as much as you can with your face buried in Will’s lap. You can feel the hardness in his pants, right up against your cheek, and your mouth waters.

There’s a comforting rub against your left cheek before Hannibal brings the belt down. It isn’t too bad, a slight sting that makes you jump.

“One.” You say, quietly. Your ass lifts up for more.

“Good,” Hannibal praises, soothing the skin once more. “Are you going to watch those videos again?”

You stay silent, contemplating but also being quiet on purpose. You can’t deny that Hannibal getting angry with you makes your panties drenched.

At this, Hannibal slams the belt down onto you once again. A warning. You cry out this time, feeling a burning sensation along your skin.

“Don’t make me ask you again,” he says sternly. “And don’t make me have to break my belt on you, little one.”

“What does that mean?” you whine, ditzy little head genuinely confused by such a simple term. You inhale the scent of Will’s pants, and from above you, the brunette’s hands gently soothe your back.

“Told you, Hanni,” he singsongs. “Doesn’t even know what she’s asking for.”

“Ignoring your interruption,” Hannibal says, annoyed (but not really). He directs his attention back to you. “Tell me, little one. Yes or no?”

You bite your lower lip, cheeks flaring as your arousal increases.

“Yes.”

Hannibal scoffs.

“You’re asking for it, aren’t you?”

The belt comes down on you again. You jump, tears beginning to pool along your waterline.

“What was that?” Hannibal demands harshly. “Was that a yes that I heard?”

“No!” You say. “No, daddy, I’ll never ever watch those videos again! I promise, promise…”

You thrash against the pain, and Hannibal’s palms rub the sore skin.

“Alright,” he replies. “but I’m adding five more. Naughty girls who don’t listen get punished.”

“Hannibal,” Will warns. “She’s fragile.”

“She’s a brat, is what she is, Will. Stop defending her,” Hannibal’s hands wrap around your hair, pulling your teary eyed face up and craning your neck. “Now count. Starting from three.”

The belt comes down again, and your hands ache, along with your bottom.

“T-Three.” You say. The belt comes down on you again, and again. You count to five.

“You really need to be harder on her,” Hannibal says to Will, who’s subtly grinding against your face as he watches you writhe below him. “She needs to learn that her actions have consequences.”

“I know,” Will sighs, then gently taps the tip of your nose, and smiles softly. “But look at how precious she is.”

Hannibal rolls his eyes, bringing out the sixth then seventh hit. You can already feel the blooming of bruises by the time you hit number ten, and your aching pussy grinds down into Hannibal’s thigh. He seems to allow this, and by the twelfth hit, he’s teasing you about it.

“Is this arousing you, lover?” He asks, amused. “You only have three more to go. You better enjoy it.”

“Mm, she is,” Will cuts in, reaching down between your legs to feel your soaked panties. “Little pussy is so wet,” and then, “You ruined your panties, pup.”

Mewling, you allow another smack to come down onto your ass.

“T-Thirteen,” you whimper out. “Could.. could you buy me some new panties, Will?”

Another smack. Another number. Will tilts his head, staring at your panty clad ass.

“Mm,” he replies. “I don’t know, Hannibal. What do you think?” His fingers grasp the puff ball tail and tug it up. This makes your panties ride up in between your folds, and you gasp, humiliated. “I think baby blue would really suit her.”

“That, or lilac,” the eldest man replies. “We’ll get you a new set, little one. But only because it benefits us as much as it benefits you.”

You smile, giddy with excitement to take another shopping trip. Hannibal rubs your ass again, and Will kisses you on the head.

“One more for us, alright?”

You nod, perky ass throbbing with heat. Hannibal slams the belt down, and this time you let out a sob. It was the harshest hit, one sure to leave a welt or two. Hannibal coos when he sees your look of pain, throwing the belt to the side and gently massaging you.

“Shhh. It’s alright. Come here, darling.”

You maneuver your body to slide in between Hannibal’s legs, pulling him into a hug. His arms wrap around your smaller form, and he kisses your hair, allowing you to bury your face into his shoulder. You let out a few more stray tears while he and Will both soothe the ache on your bottom.

“You know we only do this because we have to.” Hannibal murmurs.

“I know, daddy.”

“Actions have consequences, and you asked for this sort of punishment. So we decided to give it to you,” he explains, and pulls away to wipe away your tears with his thumbs. “Did you enjoy it?”

You nod, a small smile grazing your lips.

“I did. I enjoyed it a lot.”

“Good,” he replies. “And since you’ve taken your punishment so well, I’m giving you the opportunity to ask for something. Whatever you want, you can have it.”

Your eyes brighten.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

You lick your lips, contemplating your options with excitement.

“Hmm,” you say, and then finally come to your decision. You look over to your second boyfriend, who seems to be watching you with an almost love struck gaze. “I want Will… want his mouth. Please?”

Will licks his lips at the statement. Oral is one of his favorite things to give.

“Very well,” Hannibal says, then gestures for Will. “She can lay in between my legs. You lay between hers.”

Will nods, and you happily turn around and begin sliding off your panties. Spreading your legs, you look up at Will with doe eyes as he approaches you. His lips touch yours, sliding easily against the expanse of your mouth. When he pulls away, the scent of your arousal overtakes his senses. He groans, moving down in between your legs.

Hannibal’s big arms wrap around your shoulders, keeping you still. Will flawlessly licks a stripe up your slit, making you whimper and hold onto Hannibal for dear life as he begins to eat you like a man starved. His mouth works wonders against your tiny hole and aching clit as he groans into your cunt, drinking your sweet juices like it’s nectar of the Gods.

“How does she taste?” Hannibal asks, even though he already knows the answer. He loves to go down on you just as much as the other man.

Will pulls away, chin dripping and hair disheveled.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” he gasps out, nosing at your folds. His thumbs spread them apart, exposing your hole that’s coated in creamy slick. “Cutest fuckin’ cunt I’ve ever seen.”

You clench, letting him see the opening and closing of your hole. You want him to stick his tongue back inside.

You don’t have to wait long for that, because a mere second later Hannibal’s big hand splays across the back of Will’s head and pushes him back down. Will lets out a moan at this, allowing Hannibal to guide his head up and down and every which way that brings you closer and closer to your peak. Hannibal smirks, watching the way you writhe under his tongue and watch Will with hungry, lidded eyes.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” He says, and you can feel his hardness pressing against your back.

Drool seeps down your chin as you nod.

“Mhm..” you whine out. Your hands go to the boy’s hair, and he whimpers when you tug on the strands.

“He likes when you do that,” Hannibal observes, his tone low. He kisses the shell of your ear. “Do it again.”

You comply, watching the way Will’s hips grind down into the mattress when it happens and the way Hannibal lets out a heavy breath. Will’s mouth works harder, bringing your clit in between his lips and lightly sucking. You gasp out his name, hips moving against him in tandem.

“Will, Daddy.. ‘m so close..”

“Close, yes?” Hannibal taunts, and his grip around your throat tightens. His biceps practically squeeze your neck as you near closer and closer to your high, your throat gasping for breath. When your orgasm overtakes you, Hannibal loosens his grip, but not quite. You let out a raw, pleasure filled moan when you cum, Will working you through until the point of overstimulation, your legs shaking and your sock clad feet pushing on his shoulders. He chuckles when he pulls away, a pleased grin forming as he wipes his slick coated mouth on the back of his wrist. And boy, is it a sight. He licks up the remaining remnants of your arousal with his tongue, hands splaying on either side of you and Hannibal’s legs so he can move up and kiss you filthily on the mouth. Hannibal is next, a tender peck that makes the cock against your lower back twitch. It has him licking his lips when Will pulls away, his lashes fluttering as he sighs in content. He presses a kiss to your mouth, too, and relaxes even further.

It’s only a mere moment of rest before you can feel that familiar throb again, and the sight of your two boys bulging through their pants makes you drool. You spread your legs, overstimulated pussy on full display.

Will, who had been laying at the foot of the bed in front of the both of you, watches with hunger. You lean away from Hannibal, instead turning yourself on your knees and presenting yourself to Will, who’s already positioning himself behind you eagerly. Hannibal, the most patient out of all three of you, no doubt, finally takes his aching cock out of his pants and wraps a hand around himself at the scene. You hear the rustling of Will’s fly being undone, then his length is pressed against your ass and wet, oh so wet, even when he slides it in between your folds and sheathes himself inside your little hole with one swift movement. Your mouth drops open at the sensation of being filled, your hands finding purchase on Hannibal’s thick thighs in front of you. His cock is hitting his stomach, red and leaking drops of precum down the tip, and you watch as Hannibal rubs it up and down with his hand. You look up at him pleadingly as Will begins to pound you into the mattress.

“You want daddy’s cock in your mouth, is that it?” Hannibal teases, and you nod. He sighs, directing the tip of his cock towards you. “Open wide, sweet girl.”

You happily obey, tongue lolling out to lick at his tip, his stringy precum sticking to your bottom lip and the head of his cock, tasting absolutely divine. Will’s hands roam over your ass as his cock bullies your gummy walls.

“Mm, Hanni got you good, didn’t he, baby?” He says, examining the marks. “Gonna have to put some lotion on that later.”

The use of the nickname in Will’s mouth is a mockery of your own. You nod, however, pouting.

“Mhm. But Daddy knows what’s best for me.”

“That’s right,” Hannibal grunts out, when you take him fully down your throat. “Dumb little girls like you can’t think for themselves. That’s why you need Will and I to take care of you,” and then, “God, darling, your mouth is just perfect.”

You hum, choking on him. Will’s fingers bruise your hips now, his balls slapping against your ass with every harsh thrust. Your pussy quakes around him, clamping down on his length. His breath is warm against your ear as he pushes in and out of you.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby..” as he watches your ass bounce back against him.

“Look at that tight little pussy, practically choking my dick.” as he spreads your cheeks apart, watching the way you take him.

“Hannibal’s cock tastes good, doesn’t it?” As you come up for air and gasp, drool soaking your neck and chin.

You can feel when he gets close by the way his hips stutter, and with a lewd whine hes babbling endlessly.

“I’m gonna cum,” he says. “Gonna cum in this slut pussy— god, squeeze me just like that.”

“Please,” you whimper endlessly, and you can hear Hannibal let out a breathy chuckle.

“She wants it. She wants you to cum in her cunt,” his voice drops an octave as he watches the boy. “Come on. I need something to lubricate her more once I get my turn, don’t I?”

“Oh—“

Will’s eyes roll back, his body tensing up as he finally releases inside her. She clenches down on him, milking him for all he’s worth as he shoots rope after rope deep inside her gaping pussy. Hannibal’s fingers nestle into the boy’s hair as he rides out his orgasm, gently twirling the soft locks in between his fingers. You watch with your mouth turned into an o, burying yourself deeper against Hannibal’s chest in retaliation.

“There you go,” Hannibal coos when Will sighs against your chest, spent. “Good boy.”

“Tease,” Will mumbles back to him, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck. His eyes look up at you and he smiles. “Are you okay?”

You giggle, nodding your head.

“More than okay.”

He looks down at the mess between your thighs as he pulls out, grunting. A trail of his spend pools out of you and onto the sheets.

His fingers begin to move up to your drenched clit— you need release to, after all, and Will is never a selfish lover—but before he can, Hannibal’s hand grabs his wrist.

“No,” he utters. “Let me, once I’m inside her.”

“Like I said,” Will grumbles, moving out from between your legs to settle back against the headboard. “Tease.”

Hannibal rolls his eyes, guiding you to turn around and face him. You bite your lower lip at the feeling of Will’s cum trailing down your thighs. Hannibal undoes his belt, pulling down his zipper so his pants are open and his briefs are exposed.

“Take me out, darling.”

She reaches into the waistband of his underwear, pulling his length out and giving it a few languid strokes. Will watches, his spent cock twitching against his stomach. He ignores it, instead deciding to move to your side and press a kiss to your heated cheek. His hand provides a comforting pressure to the back of your head as he settles it in your hair. Hannibal tilts his head, grabbing the back of your thighs and pulling you into his lap.

“Put my cock inside you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Be a good girl.”

Your lashes flutter at the vulgar term spilling from the usually polite man’s lips. Will’s hands scrape against your scalp and your brain is fuzzy with how good it all feels. Grabbing Hannibal’s length in your hand, you position your dripping cunt over the tip of his cock.

Sinking down makes your brows furrow. Hannibal isn’t as big as Will, but that isn’t saying much. The man still has a considerable size, and his girth stretches your gummy walls exceptionally. You whimper, settling down to the very base of his cock. Hannibal’s head tilts back and hits the headboard, his eyes squeezing shut to get used to the sensation of you wrapped around him. His big hands splay across your hips and Will nuzzles your throat affectionately.

“Daddy.” you whine, your little pussy beginning to rock onto Hannibal.

“Yes?”

“Fuck me, please?”

He smiles, pulling you further against him so he can brace his feet underneath you. His cock gives a few shallow thrusts, getting used to your heat, before moving into more dangerous territory. It isn’t long before he’s jackhammering into you, your head tilted back by Will’s big hands. He demands you open your mouth, and you do. A glob of spit lands on your tongue, which you swallow greedily. Hannibal groans as he watches the scene.

“Filthy little things,” he mutters, pulling you into a kiss. You both share Will’s saliva on your intertwining tongues.

Your thighs shake as Hannibal’s cock and balls leak with Will’s cum. The sound is utterly sinful— the gushing sounds of his cock pummeling your filled pussy, his balls slapping against your ass, the sobs tearing through your throat. Tears stream down your cheeks and you’re sobbing.

Hannibal’s fingers reach down to your clit, deftly rubbing against the swollen nub exactly the way you like. It isn’t long before you reach your peak, your pussy clenching down as a string of filthy words makes its way out of your throat, burying your face in Hannibal’s white button down and staining it with salty tears. Will is an absolute sweetheart, guiding your hips with his hands to help you, cooing little sweet sayings in your ear. He cakes your throat in pretty red marks.

Hannibal draws closer to his orgasm, small grunts and heavy breaths spilling out of his mouth. It isn’t long before he empties inside you, filling you up with a second load of sticky, white cum. He pulls your limp body off of his length, your pussy making a gushing sound as both of your boyfriend’s dribble out of you. The two men sigh when they see it, their cocks both twitching at the sight.

But all three of you have had enough for the day— or at least for the next few hours. Hannibal disappears out of the room for a moment to bring back a glass of water and lotion. He holds the water to your lips and sweetly coos, “you’ve been such an obedient girl. Drink, okay?”

You do, of course. You drink the whole damn glass.

After going into the bathroom to pee and wipe your cum covered thighs, Hannibal lotions your sore bottom with gentle hands. After this you finally crawl back into bed, moving onto your stomach and hugging your pillow tightly. Will chuckles.

“You don’t want a bubble bath?” He asks, because that’s usually what you request. But you just shake your head, your eyes fluttering shut. Not asleep, but almost. Will nods his head. “Later then, sweet girl.”

The boy crawls to your side, wrapping his big arm around you and pulling you to his side. Hannibal soon joins, his tie loosened and jacket off, pants unbuttoned. It’s rare to see him in such a messy state, relaxed. Only you and Will can help him unwind like this.

He lays on his back, and you lay your head on his chest, inhaling his strong, expensive cologne. Beside you, you can smell the aftershave that Will wears— Hannibal teases him about it, but you’re quite fond of it. It smells like home.

They smell like home.

You smile sleepily, watching with barely open eyes as Hannibal and Will’s hands connect over you. As you fall into a peaceful sleep, the two men on either side of you stay wide awake.

After a moment, Will chuckles.

“So I’m assuming we’ll be using my belt more often?”

“Guaranteed,” hannibal confirms, watching you drool onto his shirt in your sleep. He never mentions it to you because he doesn’t want you to be embarrassed. “Perhaps we can use it on you next time, Will”

The younger man scoffs, his cheeks flaring as he buries his face into your hair.

“Shut up, Hanni.”

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz

[bunnysbrainrot]

Size Matters

Kinktober Prompt: Size kink

Relationship: Sam Winchester x Reader

Content: Explicit sexual scenes, oral (f receiving), creampie (wrap it up, kids), dirty talk, rough sex, dom Sam, fluffy/funny aftercare (it’s crucial)

Summary: Your plan for making the boys dinner goes awry, leaving you alone with Sam in his bedroom, and coming to terms with a kink that only Sam Winchester can fulfill.

A/N: 🤭

"C'mon,' you strain, reaching for a high shelf in the cabinet. Apparently Sam and Dean didn't find a need for a stepladder in the bunker. Your calves screech in protest as you reach for a jar of pasta sauce, your fingers brush the bottle, but not enough purchase to grab it.

A long arm reaches above your head, grabbing the sauce in a large, familiar hand. Sam hands you the jar with a smile.

You took it from his hands and chide, "Not everyone's as vertically gifted as you and your brother, you know. Y'could be more inclusive and invest in a stepstool."

He leans against the counter you'd been setting ingredients on. Sam's eyes scan over your form as you open the pasta sauce.

"You know you can ask us for help, right?"

"I was gonna make dinner for us, I didn't want to make you guys help me," you reply Sam stands fully now and looks over your shoulder. You crane your neck to look up at him, "How's the weather up there?"

Sam chuckles lightly, "You know, I could tease you about your height. It'd be pretty easy."

You turn back to the counter and place freshly-washed vegetables on a cutting board. Unsheathing a knife from the knife block, you keep conversation with Sam.

"I don't have a problem with being short," you bump your hip sideways into Sam's leg. He does the same to you, except the direct strike in the ribs knocks you off balance, stumbling over.

He's able to snatch you up to safety before you bust your ass on the floor. Now cradled in Sam's arms, a rush of comfort comes over you in his stable grip. His hands catch your waist, with his long fingers spreading broad across your torso. Fuck, together they could probably go around most of your waist, and those fingers...

You snap out of your stupor to find Sam smiling down at you. His eyes linger on yours long enough for your mind to wander, wondering who would lean in first. Stolen glances at each other's lips, hitched breath, low-lidded eyes, it was a perfect concoction for Sam to kiss you.

Beneath him, you're so delicate in his arms, as if you'll break if he isn't careful. It was in his own reflexes to catch you, but the feelings that rushed through him afterwards were something deeper. Almost instinctive that in any moment with you like this, hushed and ogling, would lead to something more. Forget dinner, he thought, he could just order something for delivery.

At least, after he's done with you.

"Sam," you whisper. Maybe you hadn't been paying attention, but his face is now just inches from your own.

He finds himself leaned over further, close enough to share the same air, breaths mixing.

You smile nervously, and to your relief Sam gives one of his own. But he doesn't break away - doesn't help you to your feet to cut vegetables for the dinner you were kindly making for him. It couldn't matter much now that he's holding you like this.

"Sorry," he replies, barely audible. You wave your hands in dismissal and place them around his neck. The air shifts as the movement brings you ever closer, your lips no more than three inches away from Sam's.

"It's okay," you whisper. Soft, hazel eyes wander over your face and flicker to your lips, seemingly stuck there until Sam takes a risk he'd been waiting for.

Relief washes over you when his lips meet yours. After all this time, it turns out that he had the guts to break this tension, and everything that had been bottled up could now overflow. You let a deep hunger overtake your body, purely going on instinct as Sam embraces you. Sam sighs into your kiss and swallows a moan it drew from your throat, whiny and eager.

Sam nips at your bottom lip, tugging at it tentatively with his teeth. You do the same in response, only harder. Testing the waters. Usually a dangerous game, especially with a Winchester.

Your hands had made their way to his broad shoulders - his lean muscles flexing and stretching as he moves his hands over you, meandering from your waist, spanning from your shoulder blades to the top of your ass. His fingers toy with the fabric of your clothes, like he was trying to unwrap a present too early and didn't want to rip the packaging.

“Not here,” Sam says, his words slurring like a love-drunk fool, “Can’t do this here.”

He breaks the kiss and leaves you panting for more; there's a new darkness in his stare, one that makes you shudder. You give him a smile, wiggling in his grip to the pasta sauce jar, and shut it closed.

“What about dinner?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “You seem like you have other plans.”

He was caught red handed, but you weren’t declining the advances. If anything you spurred them on as much as he did.

Sam slowly releases you from his grip, setting you stably on your feet. Not once have his eyes left you, even if you weren’t paying attention - Sam was set on this goal, you’d given him the ‘yes’ he needed, and he intended to make good on his commitment.

Patience was wearing thin for Sam. He ogles at the sight of you bent at the waist, putting the pasta sauce and veggies back in the fridge. The curve of your ass sucks him in whole, as if there were nothing else in the room.

A hand settles on your ass from behind, cupping and kneading gently. You let out a shuddering exhale before standing and turning to Sam.

The softness of your voice surprises you, “Where do you want me?”

The ball was in his court. Sam looks you over coolly, his hands kept to themselves in his pants pockets. Your eyes drift lower and pause on the large bulge in Sam’s pants, straining slightly against his thick jeans.

“My bedroom,” he said plainly.

—

There was little time to brace yourself for Sam’s next move. You're pressed against the wall before you can protest, although you wouldn’t dare object to this.

Sam grips the backs of your thighs and lifts you up, wedging your hips with his own, keeping you steady. A new hardness presses against your core as Sam juts his hips into you, pure instinct taking over his movements. His cock twitches in his jeans - he needs to watch his cock sink into you, to watch your face contort in bliss when he bottoms out in your pussy.

There was nothing small about Sam Winchester - he's a Goliath of a man, towering over you at any given time, with thick broad muscles that send a rushing heat to your sex. If your intrusive thoughts ever won, you were sure he could toss you around like it was nothing.

But now, you didn’t have much choice but to stay pinned to the wall, where you and Sam both grind your hips desperately, letting out lilted moans and grunts against each other’s skin.

The friction on your swelling clit was rough and warm, with Sam's cock perfectly nestled atop your drenched slit. Each rough push shot pleasure through your core, but it wasn’t enough for your aching cunt.

“If you need me to stop, you tell me, okay?” he emphasized. You shook your head at him. You wouldn’t break so easily, but if anyone were to shatter you apart, it could happily be Sam.

Your lips found his ear, after staining yourself up his long torso, “I’m not gonna break that easily, don’t worry.”

“Oh, yeah?” his voice deepened as his lips found your neck, eagerly nipping at your skin and making you whine. "Let's test that theory."

You gripped the hem of your shirt and shimmied it over your head, casting it to the floor carelessly.

Sam’s eyes trail over your chest, still beautifully bound by your bra. Their softness served as an undeniable invitation for his mouth to lower. He dips his head to greedily nip and suckle at the supple skin, leaving red and purple splotches in his wake.

You grip at his hair, urgently tugging him closer, as if the direct contact could never be enough to satisfy. Each of your soft moans is echoed with a low groan from Sam’s chest. He had doubled over, completely encapsulating you in his clean scent, now thick with a lustful musk.

Two fingers found the band of your bra, unclipping it with the utmost ease, and cast it to the floor with your shirt. Through panting breaths, Sam works off his shirt, though his lips have no hesitation to return to your exposed chest, and found a pebbled nipple between his teeth, rolling and biting to bring out a symphony of moans from the both of you.

Your hands lunged for the waistband of your pants. Sam took notice and sighs happily against your skin, his warm breath like a gentle wave across everything you'd exposed to him. Above you, Sam grew more unhinged with each passing second, grabbing and biting and kneading your flesh like a man starved.

Sam's lips capture yours once more in a tangle of tongues and teeth, exploring one another as if it was your only chance to do so. His tongue grazed the roof of your mouth, swallowing a deep moan that erupts from deep within your chest. He assesses your position and grows frustrated. It would be difficult to remove your, or his, pants without risking dropping you to the floor.

As quickly as you'd been slammed into the wall, Sam tosses you onto his bed, but stays standing at its foot, his hands reaching for his belt buckle. All else in the room vanished as you watch him remove the thick denim, shoving it down his legs to the floor. His cock strained against his boxers, throbbing and twitching to be free.

"Those," Sam nodded his head to your pants, "off."

The sudden dominance springs you into action. Your hands fly to your waistband and wiggle them off of your hips, down your thighs, and kick them away. Your soaked panties act as your final barrier, barring you from what you so badly needed.

Sam returns to his hunched position over you, letting his hands rove over your exposed thighs and ass, pawing at you greedily. You reach down to the band of his boxers, and slip your fingers under the elastic, inching them down until you felt a resistance against it - Sam's cock fights against the removal, straining your short arms until Sam reaches down to aid you.

The head of his cock springs up to smack against your covered core. You gasp softly at its warmth, your neglected cunt tightens around nothing of substance, an empty hole aching to be filled with something substantial.

"Feel." This was Sam's only order as he tugs your hand down to his length, coaxing you to wrap your small fingers around the middle of his shaft.

He's thick and warm against your palm, with a thick vein creeping up its underside to the tip. Your mouth waters at the way his cock twitches eagerly in your hand, and you slowly begin to pump along his length, making Sam hiss through his teeth.

Sam's voice is lower than you'd ever heard; it sends a heat directly to your teased pussy, now bracing against the base of Sam's cock. Its length covers most of your abdomen, casting your body in its silhouette in the dim lamplight of the room.

"Jesus..." he remarks wistfully, trailing a free hand up to his tip, pressing into the soft flesh of your belly.

Beneath him like this, Sam can finally see the scale of his cock to your insides, mapping out precisely where he'll settle inside of you. You whine softly as his cock drags another stroke over your soaked folds - the abrasion from your underwear was no longer tantalizing, but rather a nuisance.

His breathing becomes ragged, "I need to taste you."

The words shudder through you as Sam's lips work through the valley of your breasts, showering kisses along your middle, and finally he settles between your thighs. Sam places a kiss atop your clit, still kept out of sight by your soaked panties. Two fingers hook into the waistband and tug downward, sliding the soiled garment off of your shaky legs and to the floor behind him.

Cold air strikes your slit as Sam pries it open with two thick fingers, teasing at your aching hole, spreading the wetness around your cunt.

"Are you always this wet when you think about me?" his voice tremors through you. You nod quietly and hold your breath as Sam's head dips lower. All you can see is his rich brown hair cascading over your belly before warmth spread through your core, leaving you moaning at his first touch.

With the way his tongue teased at your clit, Sam may as well have set you ablaze. Your skin radiated a warmth unlike no other, rolling in waves as the cold of the air shocked your most sensitive areas.

"Sam," you whine, carding your fingers through his soft locks. You tug on him gently to push him further.

He pays no mind to your plea, and instead wraps his toned arms under your thighs, pulling your pussy flush against his thick tongue. It flicks your clit perfectly, and pairs with his lips as he suckles on the sweet bundle of nerves.

The taste of you makes Sam groan, his cock straining against the mattress beneath him. Above him, your moans and cries are a siren song, calling him to the bottomless sea of his desire. He pictures what lies ahead - you, sprawled on the bed, blissed out from his tongue and cock, sated and sleepy from a relentless pounding.

That image is pasted in his mind as he laps at your cunt, occasionally dipping his tongue into your tight entrance, and tasting your innermost parts. You arch your back at his touch, sighing his name like a prayer. His restless tongue toys with your hardening clit as pressure builds in your belly.

Sam creates a rhythm on your clit that sends you unfurling under his touch, mewling and whining and moaning slurred versions of Sam and please and need you. But he refuses to give more. Not until he can taste your release directly on his tongue.

The tightness in your belly snaps, breaking you apart until you're crying Sam's name against your hand, clasped firmly against your mouth. His tongue lolls over your clit even still, skyrocketing the shockwaves of the orgasm and making you whimper. Your slick coats his tongue and fills Sam's senses. All there is is you, your sounds, and your delicious cunt.

"Fuck," mumbles Sam, his voice reverberating through your convulsing sex, clamping down onto nothing.

You whine in response. All thought and sense had escaped your mind, now shattered and cast off to a void in the back of your mind. Sam laps up your juices and swallows, savoring every last drop your body had to offer.

The cold air of the room kisses your exposed cunt as Sam rises to his knees, his heavy cock bobbing above your abdomen.

"So small," he remarks, lining his cock over your stomach and admiring just how much of your body he'd overtake.

You'd surely be sore for days afterward, which sent a flush of pride through his chest. His cock ached to carve you hollow - to leave you gaping after a thorough fucking, to shape your pussy perfectly for him.

His hips rear back as he positions himself with your wet hole, shining with your slick, beckoning him inside. Sam's eyes meet yours when he notches the head of his cock past your entrance, surveying your expressions as he slowly filled you out. The girth of his cock could practically split you down your middle, stretching your little pussy to wrap perfectly around his shaft.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," Sam groans, ogling at his own cock as it spread your pussy open. His hands press against the backs of your thighs and push them toward your chest, angling himself so the both of you could share the view.

He sighs, "Look at that - such a big cock, stretching out your tiny pussy, just for me."

Astonishment, teasing, and lust filled his tone, and something else. Something more primal that has your walls fluttering around Sam's cock.

You gape at the sight of his cock entering you, and you finally come to terms with exactly just how big he is. Your pussy is stretched blissfully wide, swallowing his length with earnest. Sam slams his hips and strikes deep, the head of his cock brushing against your cervix.

Each thrust is harsher than the last and all you can do is stare at the brutality your pussy is being subjected to. You cry out as Sam's cock crashes into you, every time, without fail.

At this point, there's no hiding the reality of what's behind Sam's bedroom door. If Dean, or anyone else, heard you, let them. Bliss overcomes your senses and dulls all rationality in your muddled mind.

There is nothing else that matters - just the overwhelming size of Sam Winchester and his remarkable cock.

He whispers your name like a summons, meeting his eyes with yours as he presses your body into the mattress. A hand presses into your tummy. Sam gasps softly and takes your hand to replace his own.

"Feel that?" his purrs, pressing onto your hand to deliver some pressure. As he thrusts in you can feel a shift in your insides, until you feel a firm strike of the head of his cock against you palm.

You look to him with wide eyes and find a wicked smile plastered on his face.

Sam crouches over you, enveloping you with his large size, encasing your body with his. He leans toward your ear, "Can you feel it up here, baby? Because I can. I can feel how tiny your cunt is before I go in and stretch it out."

He pushes deeper, to let you really feel it, "I can feel how you try to fit me, and how just tight you're getting, 'cause you're gonna cum, aren't you?"

A dumb nod follows his question, making his grin widen across his lips. No words form on your lips, only shaky wanton moans reply to his commentary.

"I know, sweetheart, feels good," Sam coos, slowing down his movements to draw out a raw cry from your throat. His cock drags through your walls until its head is all that remains, and slams in harshly.

Your cry is on the verge of a scream, but Sam does not relent. There is no plea to stop or slow down, because this is all you'd been dreaming of - to feel a comforting helplessness under someone far larger, to be at their disposal and usage.

A growl leaves his throat, "So fucking small... I bet you feel like you could break, huh? With my cock this deep inside you, your little pussy can barely take any more, can it?"

Your walls clench around him in reply, pulling Sam in deeper until his balls slap against your ass, now pairing with the obscene squelching of your abused pussy.

Between the lilting moans and quieted pleas from your perfect mouth, Sam issn't sure how much longer he can last. He vows to himself that he will not give in to it yet, not until he feels it. He needs to feel the way you wrap around his cock when you cum.

He needs to be the reason you finish, this time and each orgasm after.

"You've been waiting for this. You've wanted this the whole time - someone big and strong to pound your little pussy 'til you can't stand. Because you want a thick cock splitting you open." Sam stammers through the last few words - his own comments are bringing him closer to the brink, but you've already reached yours.

You shudder around him harshly as your orgasm hits you full-force, leaving you no room to ride it out as Sam's pace quickens. His breath hitches at the sensations flowing through his throbbing length - he hisses when you clench around his sensitive tip, leaving his gasping as he fucks you faster. Harder. Deeper.

His cock plunges into your cunt, hitting that same spot in your tummy as he mentioned before. Sam's hand presses against your abdomen, adding a glorious pressure that has you climaxing again in a matter or seconds.

"Thaaaat's it, attagirl," he encourages. "Such a tight little cunt, but she takes me so well."

The words flow through you like fire, sending you over the brink once again and leaving you whimpering beneath him. Sam smirks, knowing he's doing his job right, he has you exactly where he wants you, pinned, helpless, and impossibly full.

"Please... S-Sam," you whisper.

He laughs, pounding you so roughly you can barely brace for the slam against your cervix, "Can't handle it, can you, baby? I thought you said you don't break easily."

Your soft cries reach his ears as you slip into that thoughtless void of your mind, moaning with each strike.

Sam's lips brush over the shell of your ear, "You think you're so strong, but I'll break you. I'll have your cunt so bruised you can't think about anything else - only me, because this pussy is mine, do you understand?"

A reply doesn't come, only the sounds of your moans fill his ears. Sam delivers a harsh slap to your ass, thrusting his cock as deep as he could manage. You let out a long moan but still don't reply.

"Who's pussy is this?"

The words form on your lips and fall out feebly, "Y-yours."

He kisses your forehead, but does not let his hips falter, "That's right, angel. All mine."

Pressure builds in his abdomen, his balls growing tight as his own release crept up from behind. Sam nips at your earlobe, his words clang through you with a primal desire.

"And since this pussy's mine, I'm going to fill it."

The swift relentless pace resumes, crashing into your hips to verge on soreness, your tight cunt still wrapping perfectly around him, and Sam's name falling past your slacked mouth. Sam's eyes screw shut as his own orgasm finally approaches, and his cock begins to twitch.

He unsheathes his cock from your warm walls, aiming directly at your now gaping pussy. Sam pumps himself fervently as his cum spurts from his cock, right into your stretched hole. You stare in awe as his cum seeps into your cunt, the angle of your hips inviting it all in.

Sam hisses, "Keep it all in there."

You pant as you try to recover yourself, but Sam plunges his cock into you again, making you let out a low, drawn-out moan. He strikes as deeply as before, his movements are urgent, borderline predatory, insistent to have you bred nicely.

"Keep it in there, and don't you dare fucking waste it."

His movements start to slow - the thrusts are languid and gentle until Sam finally pulls himself out of your abused pussy. He grips your thighs and lowers them until you can finally breathe freely again, gasping in the cool, refreshing air.

"There you go. Deep breaths, honey," Sam coaxes, running his hands along your sore hips, massaging gently into the aching flesh. You do as you're advised and calm your breathing, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. Sam did the same until he slumped into the mattress next to you, groaning into the sheets.

You smile lazily at him, "You okay over there?"

Sam nods into the bed, still letting out a low groan, "Y'fuckin' drained me."

Pride wells in your chest. You giggle at him, earning you a playful slap on your thigh. Your giggle turns into a hearty laugh before you nestle next to Sam, eyes fluttering shut with fatigue. He takes notice and nudges you.

"Bathroom, no UTI's for us today."

You retort, "Sam, I don't think I can even walk properly right now."

He shifts and rises from the bed, scooping you into his arms and lifting you to his chest. Your laughs echo around the room as Sam Winchester takes you to the bathroom, ever the gentleman.

Hi! Thank you all for your patience as i get out of my lil' brain funk. I hope you enjoyed!

If you liked this fic, reblog to show others! Who cares if we're depraved little animals?? don't you just wanna go apeshit???

anyways ily, and i hope this fic gets the love it needs cause i had a wonderful time writing it >:3

[bxnnywrites]

🖤 Killers Reacting to Nervous!Reader Holding Their Hand 🖤

[PT: Killers reacting to nervous!reader holding their hand]

Pt 2 Here [link]

Danny Johnson ::

Oh! You're holding his hand!! That's so sweet, you hadn't done that yet-

Oh

Oh Wait

Are you fucking blushing???

Oh my god your face is so red oh it's so cute

Grabs your face very gently in one hand and teases the fuck out of you for it

"Aw, doll, are you nervous about holding my hand?"

Yes of course you are shut up Danny

"Nah, I won't. You're fucking cute like this. What, nervous about holding hands before marriage?"

Would bully you so fucking much about it

You wanna kill him /j /aff

Michael Meyers ::

A sudden weight in his hand catches him off guard, so he looks at you.

And there you are, small hand in his.

Oh god he could absolutely crush your hand if he wasn't careful

And he looks at you and you're so damn cute

You aren't looking at him and your face is that soft pink

He (very gently) gives your hand a squeeze in response. Just to let you know he's ok with this.

Definitely isn't letting go of your hand anytime soon though.

His Hand Now you will get it back in an hour dw about it

Amanda Young ::

You're holding her hand

Holy fucking shit you are holding her fucking hand

Oh my god ok Amanda, calm down. It's cool, this is cool. Everything's cool. Everything is fucking cool ok????

Just as nervous as you are, can't make eye contact for a bit

You're both blushing messes.

Finally gives your hand a soft squeeze to show she likes it.

Literally can't speak otherwise, too flustered.

Sweet Baby has not been given a lot of love after all. She ain't used to it.

The Huntress ::

Oh! You are holding her hand! How sweet!

Loves this so much, loves physical affection, biggest love language.

But...oh! Your face is so red, little rabbit! Are you alright?

Softly coos at you and brushes your face with her thumb, mildly worried.

When you explain you're fine, just flustered and nervous, she giggles.

Forehead kisses time and nice soft hugs.

Will do everything she can to make you feel more comfortable, so soft and sweet.

Sadako Yamamura ::

Just stares

Like for a really long time

Just staring at your hand in hers

Why are you doing that? Why are you being so tender?

She doesn't understand, but she doesn't want you to stop.

Slowly takes your hand and brings it to her face so you're instead holding her cheek in your palm.

Unsure what else to do, just knows she enjoys your touch. Knows she doesn't want you to stop being so loving.

If she had the ability to cry anymore, she probably would.

All from some hand holding. Poor thing.

BONUS!!

Ash ::

Smiles at you and squeezes your hand

Definitely thinks it's adorable how you're blushing

Would tease you a bit, but nothing like Danny

"What, all embarrassed from some handholding, sweetheart?"

You pout at him and he just chuckles, giving your hand another affirming squeeze.

"It's alright, you look cute like this."

You are blushing more than before, but you do feel better.

Prefers when you hold his good hand, the mechanical one doesn't have the same feeling.

[yanderecxre]

Yandere!Cult Leader/Priest × gn!reader

Summary: Mason Blackwair always knew you'd be his. His sweet little dove, kept peacefully by his side, it's such a shame you've gotten so disillusioned with the teachings, but that's fine. It just gives him the opportunity to keep you with him forever now, willing or not.

CW: gaslighting, stabbing, cults, abuse of power, pet names, religious themes/wording, breeding, disassociating (reader), non-con, dycraphilia, dubious consent, loss of virginity, threats & as always if you think I missed anything just pm or say anything!

Note: peeks in and waves hi! Hope you guys like this one if you want a part 2 let me know!! ~ bunny

You are a member of your family's cult. Recently, you've begun to doubt your faith and the cult members found you guilty; as punishment, you were chosen to sacrifice yourself in the name of God.

At night you came to your priest, Mason Blackwair cell to ask him to mitigate your punishment. Mason sits quietly and calmly, his face illuminated by the light of a candle, his thin long fingers running over the pages of the Bible. Finally, Mason notices you standing in the aisle and smiles brightly. Despite the certain joy in his face, it is obvious that his smile is fake and here just for the sake of politeness.

“Hello, my dear dove. What brings you here?”

Mason doesn't let you answer and interrupts you with a little laugh.

“Ah, wait! I think I got it, little dove. Did you come here to talk about your punishment? I am sorry to tell you this, but I cannot influence the sacrifice in any way. Soon I will become the leader of our beautiful commune and that is why I need to maintain the reputation of a strict and fair manager…”

For a second, something like annoyance and sadness flashes in Mason's eyes and he quickly turns away.

“My advice is… To open your heart for salvation, little dove. Perhaps our Lord will hear your request.”

"The same Lord who wants them to tie me to the altar and cut me until I'm cleansed?”

You demanded softly, teary eyed as you looked into his eyes, the eyes that once belonged to your childhood friend. The sweet boy who used to pick flowers with you and run around the commune, now turned into nothing but a stranger.

Mason pauses for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as if he is trying to find something in your expression. Finally, he stands up from his seat and walks towards you, stopping just inches away from you.

"My dear dove… Do you know what this sacrifice means? It doesn't mean that they want to kill you. They want God to purify your soul by shedding your blood.”

Mason puts a hand on your shoulder, smiling gently at you.

"Look at me, little dove. You know how much I care about you and the commune's faith. But it doesn't mean that I am blind to the human side of things. I will talk with your father and see what we can do for you."

At this point, there is a sincere and caring note in Mason's voice.

"But remember, our Lord has a plan for all of us, even when it seems like He is leading us through dark paths."

You just shook, rage and fear in your veins. You quickly turned away and left him behind, crying now. It broke his heart to see you so upset, he reached out for you but only touched empty air as you exited with the final parting words.

"I'm retiring to my prison.”

Mason watches you retreat silently, his expression unreadable. Once you are out of sight, he sighs deeply and picks up the Bible again. He flips through its pages, frowning at whatever it is that he sees.

After a few minutes of brooding in silence, Mason closes the book and walks towards the door of his cell. Before leaving, he turns back to look at the empty room with a sad smile on his lips.

"I hope you'll forgive me someday for what I'm about to do."

He murmurs softly before blowing out the candles and leaving it behind, retiring to his bedroom.

You spent the entire night crying your eyes out, lamenting that all you'd see tomorrow was the crazed looks of the people you once thought of as family, your weak pathetic cries echoing around your cell.

You stood still as your parents led you to the altar, your father offering soft whispers of apologies as he and your mother tied you down, a knife lay beside the altar. You looked up at the ceiling, teary-eyed.

As you lay tied to the altar, your family gathers around with solemn expressions. The room is dimly lit and there's a faint smell of incense in the air.

Mason steps forward, his robes rustling as he walks towards the altar. He stops at the edge, looking down at his dove with an unreadable expression.

"Dear little dove…" Mason says softly, reaching for one of your hands. "You are about to become a vessel for our Lord's power. Do not be afraid.”

Mason picks up the knife from beside the altar and holds it gently in his hand.

"I will be performing this sacrifice myself," he adds. "May God have mercy on your soul."

With that said, Mason places a gentle kiss on your forehead before raising the knife above his head with both hands.

"Do not resist," he whispers to your ear. "Receive His love."

You closed your eyes and sobbed, refusing to let that sick yet soft look in his eyes be the last thing you saw.

Mason hesitates for a brief moment, his grip on the knife faltering slightly as he hears you crying. A flicker of emotions crosses his face before he quickly regains his composure.

"Dear dove," Mason says softly, almost pleadingly. "Do not be afraid. The pain is temporary but the glory you will experience afterward is eternal."

With that said, Mason slowly lowers the knife towards your chest.

"May our Lord have mercy on your soul," he whispers as he plunges the blade into your flesh.

The sacrifice lasts only a few seconds - it's short, but terrifying- and everything becomes blurry to you, as if you'd been transported out of your body and that someone else was experiencing this torment instead of you.

When it's over you feel weak and faint.

When you awoke, you were back in your bedroom, your mother sitting on a chair beside you. She reached out to touch you and you flinched terrified, letting out a loud sob.

As you awaken in your bedroom, you see your mother sitting beside your bed on a chair. She reaches out to touch you, but flinches when she sees that you are terrified of her and immediately backs away.

"Shh… it's alright," Your mother says softly, trying to comfort you. "You're safe now, my dear.” you want to scream ‘LIAR’ at her as she speaks, saying you were safe. You felt horrible and terror filled your body.

Mason enters the room and stands at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest, watching silently as your mother tries to calm you down.

"You did well today," he says coolly. "Thanks for receiving His love."

Although his words are praised-like, they do nothing to produce any emotion or feeling from him. He watches you, shaking and looking like a terrified animal, like a lamb who barely escaped the slaughter. He wants to say more but knows nothing he says will help you.

It was like seeing a ghost, his little dove no longer did as they usually did. There were no more sweet smiles or hymns sung as chores were completed, no more treats baked with trays especially reserved for Mason. Instead his dove was shut away, in their room, only going out for meals and sermons or whenever their parents coaxed them out.

Mason notices the change in your behavior and it bothers him deeply. He cannot help but wonder if he's partly responsible for what happened to you.

One day, he decides to visit you in your room. When he enters, you are sitting alone by the window staring out at the sky. You look up when you hear him come in.

"Little dove," Mason says softly as he approaches you. "I'm here to talk with you.”

There's a slight tremble in his voice - an unusual vulnerability that shows that even someone like him has feelings.

"I know that things have been difficult for you lately," he continues, taking a seat beside you on the bed. "But I want you to understand that everything we do is for the greater good of our commune and our faith."

He places a hand on yours and looks into your eyes with deep concern.

"You can always talk with me if there's something troubling you."

You stared blankly back. "I am fine. I've been cleansed by the knife.” You whispered softly and finally looked at him with vacant and distant eyes.

Mason nods slowly, sensing that there's something you're not telling him.

"I see," he says quietly. "But I can see that you're still hurting inside. And I want to help you."

He takes a deep breath and continues, "Little dove, I know that the sacrifice was traumatic for you. But it was necessary for our faith. You were chosen because we believe that your spirit is strong enough to endure it."

He pauses for a moment, his eyes searching her face.

"But if you're still feeling lost or confused… You can talk to me about it. Remember: Our faith is in everything."

"I used to play the piano. Right? Or did I sing? My memory is confusing.” You looked up at him, sadly. Shaking slightly as you stared at nothing. “I don't know who I am anymore, Mason. I'm scared.”

Mason furrows his brow slightly, unsure of what you are trying to say. He doesn't remember you ever playing any instrument.

"I'm not sure what you mean, little dove," he says with a frown. "What are you talking about?”

"I don't remember who I was before the sacrifice. Who was i? Who am I now? I'm scared Mason, so scared. Who was I before you drove the knife into me?”

Mason freezes at your words, his mind processing what you just said. He stands up from the bed and takes a few steps away from you, his face contorted with shock. He thought you'd forgotten he'd been the one to do it.

"What are you talking about?" he asks harshly. "I never drove the knife into you, little dove."

His voice is cold and hard, and there's a hint of anger in it.

"Who told you such lies? You are mistaken. Your mind is playing tricks on you dove." Mason mutters as he knelt between your thighs, grasping your hands in his and squeezing them. “Fret not little dove, your mind will get better.”

"May our Lord have mercy on your soul." It's spoken in a mockery of Mason's voice. You looked at him slightly confused, "That's what you spoke, right? Unless um, I misheard… but it sounded like you-”

Mason's eyes widen in realization as you speak. He takes a step closer to you, his expression softening.

"Oh, little dove…" he says softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to go through this."

He pauses for a moment before continuing.

"You are right… It was me who drove the knife into your heart. I did it because our Lord told me so in a vision - it was His will that you be sacrificed.”

Mason cups your face gently and looks into your eyes with compassion.

"But please believe me when I say that everything we do is for the greater good of our faith. Your family has devoted their lives to serving Him."

“Y-you did? But- w-why? It hurt- a lot-” You were working yourself up into a panic before he gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Hush, little dove, you're recovering, do not strain yourself, you know why. In order to cleanse you, now enough of this. Rest and cease thinking about such things further.”

Mason looks away from you for a moment, his eyes full of sadness.

"I know you're not thinking clearly right now," he says quietly. "But I still feel responsible for what happened to you. I know that you must hate me now… But please understand that it was never my intention to hurt you."

He takes a deep breath and continues, "All I wanted is to protect our faith and people from the evil in this world. Sacrifices are painful, but they purify our souls and make us stronger - so we can better serve Him.” Mason murmured and hugged you tightly to his chest.

"I f-feel upset. You're supposed to protect me, yet you drove a knife into me and now that- that everyone in the commune saw it- i- I'll be alone forever and my parents won't find me a spouse.” Your lip wobbled and you sniffled slightly, clinging to him. You were unable to see his cruel and satisfied smile as he held you, petting your hair softly.

Mason listens to your words with a sinking heart. He knows that it is true - he did drive the knife into you, and that decision has caused you so much pain.

"I… I had no choice," he says quietly, almost to himself. "It was His will."

Fake tears glisten in his eyes as Mason looks at you, finally realizing the weight of his actions.

"You're right," he says softly. "I should have protected you, not hurt you. I cannot change what happened now… But I promise you this: I will do everything in my power to help you recover from this. Starting right now.”

Mason gently kisses you, his lips pressing against yours as he speaks. “I'll remedy this immediately, you and I shall marry. That way you won't be alone.” He doesn't give you a moment to speak, already pressing you against the bed, kissing you deeply now.

You let out a muffled noise of confusion and panic, squirming underneath him and pushing at his chest. His lips finally move away only to seek your neck and leave bites and bruises upon it as you gasped and whimpered. “A-ah! M-mason- wait- p-please hold on- i-”

His head lifts up, looking at you with his eyes blown wide as he grunts an acknowledgement to your words, “Yes my dove? Sh, it's alright, who better to take responsibility than the one responsible for your misfortunes? Relax, or would you rather this happen at the altar later? Where everyone, will see and hear you?”

You trembled slightly the idea of that happening terrifying you to your core yet feeling slightly exhilarating. Mason grinned, feeling you relax and continued making his way to your waist.

Mason kissed down until he reached your entrance, humming softly as he placed his hands firmly on your squirming thighs, grunting loudly as he forced them open. “Enough of that, do not do that again or I will have to tie you down. Understood little dove?”

You nodded, or tried to as you gasped softly and whimpered out a moan at the feeling of his tongue licking and sucking at your entrance, no one had ever touched you there. “Mhmph! M-mason! Hng- t-too much!”

Mason puts a comforting hand on your thighs. He pulls away from between your thighs, face covered in his own saliva and your fluids that ran down your inner thighs.

"I understand that it can be scary, little dove. But I promise you, nothing will harm you here with me."

He gives you a reassuring smile. Breathing heavily as he speaks, his fingers finding their way to your still quivering entrance which he circled a finger around.

"Besides, my love for you is as pure as the intentions of our God. All we have to do is make love and everything will be alright.”

Mason's finger breached your entrance, slick with something that made it easier to handle, slowly thrusting his finger in and out. He gave you plenty of reassurance and pressed kisses to your thighs and stomach.

“Dove, you must relax, you're still clenching up and tensing up. You'll hurt yourself more than me if you don't relax.” With those words he sunk another finger inside, his free hand pinning your hips down to the bed when he felt you buck upwards.

Mason grunted as he felt your tight heat around his fingers, if you were this tight around his fingers you'd never be able to fully take all of his cock. He didn't want to hurt you more than necessary, not yet at least.

“Sh, sh dove, easy there we go, good little pet.” He murmured as you whimpered and moaned, feeling his fingers hit something inside of you that had you unable to breath. You heaved slightly and looked down at him through tearful eyes.

“M-mason- please- ngh! That feels….. mhm! Good-” You moaned out and let your head drop against the pillows, falling into a dream-like state as you allowed him to continue. “M-more…. Please give me more-”

Mason grinned at your words, a sinister gleam in his eyes before he cooed and slid his fingers out, shushing your confused whines with a simple kiss before he undressed himself and tore your remaining clothes off.

"As our Lord wishes," he whispers between kisses, his voice reverent yet filled with desire.

Mason aligned his cock with your entrance, sliding it through your messy thighs first to coat it before he spread your legs and slowly sunk in.

“P-please, please be mhmph! Gentle, please Mason?” You whimpered softly, eyes locked on him as he looked down at you, mouth drying when he saw your flushed and tear stained cheeks.

Mason looks down at you with tender eyes, his hand running up and down your side soothingly.

"I will take care of you, little dove," he says softly. "I promise."

With a gentle but firm motion, Mason fully enters you, slowly thrusting in and out of your body. His movements are gentle at first, but soon become more passionate as the intensity increases.

As he fucks you, Mason whispers religious phrases to you: "pray to me", "I am your God", "repent for your sins". He continues kissing and caressing every inch of your body, making sure that you are comfortable throughout the entire ordeal. Even as he feels you twitching around his cock, your own fluids covering both his cock and your thighs and stomach. How many orgasms had he wrung from your body? Five? Ten? You lost count.

He's filled you up more times than you can count, you thought he was trying to breed you and knock you up the way he came and came. You couldn't move as you moaned and whimpered, unable to speak much less move and do something about him fucking your sensitive body.

When he's finished, Mason pulls himself out and lays down beside you, holding you close to him. The room is silent except for the sound of breathing as you both catch your breath after Mason seemed to fill you up so much a slight bulge could be seen, you shifted trying to get comfortable yet only felt his cum leaking out your spent hole.

"Sleep now, little dove," he whispers softly into your ear. "We have obeyed our Lord's wishes. Soon enough tomorrow, we will marry and you'll live with me, my perfect little dove who won't have to do anything but obey and listen.”

You fell asleep, cuddled into his side as he looked down at you, a possessive look in his eyes. He'd deal with the consequences of your parents finding you two together in the morning for now, he'd happily hold his little dove and admire the marks he gifted them.

Mason stays awake, holding you close to him throughout the night. As the sun begins to rise and light filters through the window of your private quarters, he kisses your forehead again before getting up.

"I must leave now, little dove," he says quietly. "But know that I am always here for you."

As he dresses in his priestly vestments, Mason turns back to look at you, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"Now go back to sleep and rest as much as possible. And remember what we did was pure love. Our wedding will be soon.”

He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips before making his way out of your room and back into the world outside.

[bl00d-bunny]

wakeup call - lip gallagher

-pairing- lip gallagher x fem!reader

-summary- after you're late for a shift at patsy's pies, lip swings by your apartment to check on you

-warnings- smut minors dni!!, smoking (w33d), shameless activities lol, general smuttiness, unprotected p in v (be smart, wrap it!),

-word count- 2k

-additional notes- not proofread or edited,

18+ minors do not interact!

the southside wasn’t the best place to live and you knew that, between the near-constant construction and the fights on the streets it was a miracle that you ever got a lay in. you hadn’t been able to sleep until at least 3 am since your neighbours decided to blast crappy songs in an attempt to hide the fact they were fucking all night long (it didn’t work, obviously). And it sounded like they just started up again, great.

you sigh as you glance at the clock, 9.34 am, there goes your lie-in. you roll over and pull a pillow over your head, but the pounding against the wall only gets louder. eventually, you decide you can’t take it anymore, full of rage and lack of sleep, you throw yourself out of your warm bed, tugging your robe on tight. as you make your way to the front door you realise the banging was not your neighbours going for round 5, it was someone knocking on your door, aggressively.

you grab the wooden baseball bat you keep by the front door just in case and make your way to the door. on your tip toes, bat raised, you squint to look through the peephole. you roll your eyes and lower the bat. what was lip gallagher doing pounding on your door on a sunday morning?

“what do you want?” you swing the door open.

juxtapose to his knocking, he didn’t seem angry.

“fi sent me, you didn’t show up for your shift,” he said plainly.

fiona really helped you out when you were in a bad place, she gave you a job at patsy’s and let you rent one of her apartments. she got you off the streets and gave you stability and for that, you were forever grateful but you knew you didn’t have a shift today, you never had a shift on a sunday, and in the rare case you worked a sunday shift you wouldn’t start til 11. you told lip that much.

“it’s saturday and…” he pulled out his phone to check the time, “it’s quarter past 12,”

“what? no, my clock said…” you trailed off rushing back to your bedroom

9.34 am still flashed on your alarm clock, the power must have gone out. you grabbed your phone from where it was charging but it didn’t turn on. it died last night on your shift, but you plugged it in. and it was still plugged in you pushed the cord and your phone lit up letting you know it was finally charging.

“fuck!” you flopped back onto your bed, dragging your hands down your face.

“i’ll call fiona,” you jumped not realising he had followed you, standing in the doorway of your bedroom.

“thank you, i’ll literally be 5 minutes,” you pushed past him making your way to the bathroom.

you brushed your teeth in record time, turning the faucet off you overheard him on the phone.

“…she can’t stop throwing up, fi. there’s no way she can come in.”

you poked your head out of the bathroom “what the fuck are you doing?!?” you mouthed to him.

“relax, trust me” he turned his attention back to his phone, “i think i’m gonna stay here a little while and make sure she’s okay,”

you looked at him with wide eyes, what was he doing? you were practically ready for work and he just told fiona you’re not going in.

“what was that all about?” you started as soon as his phone was back in his pocket.

“well now neither of us has to go to work” he shrugged with a smug smile.

“and what if fiona decides to come to check up on us?” you questioned. when you are actually sick, sometimes fiona will stop by and check on you, maybe bring you some soup and a box of tissues. what if she came to check up on you and saw you were fine and lip was nowhere to be seen?

“guess we will have to hang out here, ya know just in case,” he settled himself on the sofa.

“whatever, i’m gonna try and get some sleep,” lack of sleep finally caught up to you as you shuffled to your bed that had long lost its warmth.

after what felt like an eternity you gave up on going back to sleep. tired of tossing and turning you moved to the living room. plopping yourself on the opposite side of the couch from where lip was scrolling on his phone, as whatever daytime show played on your tv. you reached under your coffee table, pulled out your rolling tray, and began rolling a joint. you saw lip watching you out of the corner of your eye but chose to ignore him until you brought the joint to your lips. you locked eyes with him as you slowly slide your tongue out to lick the gum strip before rolling the joint closed. you only broke eye contact to find a lighter, which of course you couldn’t find. lip shifted his body weight as he pulled a lighter out of his pocket, he moved closer to you and sparked it. you leaned in, joint held between your lips, looking down as the end glowed red in the orange flame.

you brought your fingers up to remove the blunt from your lips, closing your eyes and leaning back as you inhale, feeling the warmth of the weed spread throughout your whole body, instantly relaxing you. exhaling, you sit up again taking another puff before holding the spliff towards lip, instead of taking it he pulled you closer to him with your outstretched arm. you’re confused until you finally exhale your last puff and he inhales it keeping his eyes on yours. you bring the joint to your lips once more, inhaling deeper this time, moving your lips inches away from his as you exhaled.

you watch as the milky smoke moves from your lips to his. your entire being is warm, maybe its the weed, maybe its lips hands resting on your legs, or simply the close proximity, but you feel lightheaded. finally breaking eye contact with him you place the joint in the ashtray- but don’t you move from your cross-legged position and he doesn’t move his hands from your legs.

you watched his eyes fall from yours to your lips and back again. you knew what was coming next, it was only a matter of time. you and lip have had this predicament going on for a while now. you’d flirt with each other, tease each other, until the tension hung in the air like smoke, and just when one of you was about to make a move, there was always an interruption. sometimes it was a phone call, or someone walking in, no matter what it was the interruption was always there. maybe it was a sign that you shouldn’t, but neither of you cared enough to pay it any mind.

but here, in your apartment, alone, together, with nowhere to be, there was no interruption this time. he knew that you knew that, still neither made the move to close the gap. maybe a little more weed would help speed things along, you reached towards the half-smoked joint still in the ashtray, but he stopped you, his hand on your jaw, forcing you to look at him. before you could say anything, do anything, his lips were on yours, hungry as if he was starved and only you could satisfy his hunger.

his hands on your face pulling you impossibly close, you pulled yourself to be on his lap, your arms around his neck fingers tangling in his hair. no distractions, no interruptions, just you two on the couch smoke hanging in clouds around, keeping the world out.

you feel him grow hard beneath you, grinding against him, searching for friction in any form, he growled in your mouth so you continued.

he pinned you between himself and your worn-down couch, his tongue moving against your own. you bucked your hips, still chasing any kind of touch or friction. his large hands came to pin your hips against the tattered couch, you whined missing the movement.

“be patient,” he kissed your jaw. you turned your head to allow him more access as he left sloppy kisses down your neck, nipping here and there. you bit down on your lip to not give him the satisfaction.

he soon found out how worked up he’d got you when he shoved his hand down your pants. his slender fingers teasing your clit with large, slow circles. you reach between you to start unbuttoning his pants but he uses his opposite hand to pin your wrists above your head.

“really?” you huff out

“i told you to be patient,” he smirked applying pressure to your clit that caused you to squirm beneath him, his teeth at your neck.

eventually, he removed his hand from your wrists in favour of your boobs, pulling your neckline down to expose your chest. one hand pinching at your nipple, the other keeping up the slow circles on your clit, as if he couldn’t be doing anymore he brought his lips to your free nipple, sucking and nipping leaving you a mess. the room was spinning, your head clouded, heart beating wildly underneath your ribcage.

he removed himself from you, much to your displeasure. with his legs on either side of you, he unbuttoned your pants, pulling them and your underwear down in one swift motion, leaving you breathless. with him above you now you could see his cock struggling against his jeans, almost instinctively you reach up to unbutton them. he stands up to remove them further as you kick yours from around your ankles.

he kneels over you once more, one hand next to your head the other pumping his cock between you. you look down to watch, subconsciously biting your lip. he readies himself between your legs, and you wrap your arms around his neck. in one agonisingly slow thrust he bottomed out. you squeezed your eyes shut mentally adjusting your self.

he places a hand on your hip as he pulls out almost completely, he looks down where the two of you connect. you can’t help but buck your hips desperate to feel him inside of you again. he brings both his hands to you hips to press you into the couch, all you can do is whine, showing him just how desperate you are.

before you knew it his hips snapped against yours in a ruthless thrust causing your eyes to roll into the back of your head, a mix of a moan and a scream climb from your throat.

his lips against your ear now “ i warned you to be paitent,” his voice darker than before

“guess i’ll just have to teach. you. a lesson.” each word punctuated with a thrust deeper than the last. you felt yourself coming undone, he knew it too, between the moans you let out and your nails in his back, lip knew exactly what he was doing to you.

he released you hips from his grasp but didn’t let up on the speed, he brought his thumb to your clit drawing slow steady circles, a mind-numbing contrast to his thrusts now growing sloppy.

his breath hot across your face, he was close, you were too, it was a matter of time before one of you came tipping the other over the edge. he picked up the circles on your clit hoping to make you come first, you attacked his neck with your tongue, trying not to give him the satisfaction. but it was to little to late, he had you a mess beneath him, you wrapped a leg around his hip, allowing him to hit just the right spot.

in a matter of seconds, you came, closing your eyes you allowed yourself to be swallowed by the sensations, lip following closely behind, collapsing on top of you.

eyes still closed, trying to catch your breath, you feel lip get up and move to the other side of the couch, then you hear the lighter click and his steady inhale. without opening your eyes you stick you hand out in his direction awaiting the joint, instead you only hear him inhale again. you sit up giving him a death glare.

“did that lesson really teach you nothing?” he smirks before blowing the smoke in your direction.

you stand up, taking the joint from him before sitting on his lap, taking a long inhale.

“i guess i’ll be needing more lessons then”

WANT MORE LIP GALLAGHER SMUT?? Check out this!!

[inhibitionfreewriting]

Can you please write about Hasan watching thirsttraps of his girlfriend on his stream?

"Chat - chat listen I'm not going to watch these on stream" as he's opening one and letting it play, shaking his head.

"you didn't even get her good side" even if it showed every side of her, he's trying not to think about how good she looks and how well done this video is. he shifts in his seat and opens up another one (because people are finding more and sending them in chat) and one comes through that's her own (we love a bit of trolling)

and he sucks in a breath through his teeth and watches and his lips form into smile as he watches her feel her best self and before he knows it, he's opened a 3rd and a 4th one and people are trying to remind him that he's on stream!! he's still live!! hasan!!! people can see you thirsting

and i love the idea of it getting back to her and she walks into the stream room and scares him by just sliding into frame and putting her hands on his shoulders like "whatcha dooooooin?"

i love them

[void-detective]

Voice in his Head 🎤

[GIF IS NOT MINE!! All dividers made by cafekitsunes]

Author note: pspsp,,punkintyre fans come get your food. Just because I couldn't resist these two petty bitches fighting and the gay ass thing Drew did at Mania. Also I low-key struggled writing Drew 😭

Warnings: 18+, hate fuck, power bottom Punk, rough sex, top Drew, age difference, anal sex, and locker room sex. DO NOT INTERACT IF MINOR. This isn't a reflection of the real wrestlers and if you don't like gay sex then,, shoo.

Word count: 3,293

Summary: Fed up with Punk's antics over the past few weeks and now the knowledge that he isn't injured as bad. Drew seeks a way to shut up his rival and confronts him in a heated meeting backstage.

It had all been in his grasp.

Everything his hard work had built up to.

It was supposed to be his moment.

…But yet again he had cost him the match.

It wasn't fair, none of this was.

His moment was ruined because of his own ego

April 8, 2024 on Monday night, Raw

Fatal four way match, #1 contender for the World Heavyweight Championship

Drew had the upper hand in the match, or so he had been convinced of the idea. It had been a long match, with the other opponents finally taken out to only leave him in the most of Jey Uso. He could practically taste the victory.

Now standing in the corner of the ring, he was preparing the count for the claymore kick. Most of his attention was drawn towards Jey, who still was recovering from the onslaught of attacks. He had gotten down three, but before he could dash at Jey for the finisher, he had felt something grab his ankle from behind and hold him back.

His confusion quickly turned to pure frustration and anger as soon as he looked back at the man standing outside the ring. Punk; Not only had the man stopped him, but he had the gall to be laughing in his face over the situation.

With the momentary distraction, it gave Jey the perfect opportunity to catch Drew with a superkick and then run him into a spear as he was stunned. Once the bigger man was down, Uso had climbed the top turnbuckle and hit a successful frog slash, then the pin in a matter of seconds. It all felt like a blink of an eye for Mc’Intyre and now laid out in the ring..he had lost yet another title opportunity.

To say he was angry was an understatement.

Once the cameras went off, Drew had gotten out the ring and made his way backstage. His main mission now is to catch the older man before he potentially escapes with that shit eating grin on his face. Sometimes he wished he could actually punch him.

After asking around and searching through the still bustling backstage area, he had found Punk talking with Randy Orton. Still running his mouth even now huh?

Drew tried to mask his anger and irritation by putting a natural expression on as he approached the two men. He gave Randy a passing nod which was returned and turned his attention towards the shorter man of the two.

“Punk, can I have a word with you?” The words come out in a growl despite his attempt to put up a polite facade, and so he stepped away from Randy to signal Punk to go somewhere more private.

The other man gave Drew a suspicious glare, before clicking his tongue and simply nodding along as he excused himself from the conversation with Randy. Now following in suit of the enraged Scottish man who was bringing him to a more isolated area of the arena.

Before Punk could question Drew's intentions he was grabbed by his hoodie and pushed back into the wall behind them. The height difference –although small–, caused Drew to have to lean over the older man in order to get face to face with him. “You are the single most annoying person I have ever had the displeasure of feuding with. You are insufferable.” McIntyre practically snarled at Punk as he tightened his grip on the other's hoodie.

“Hey, hey now don't get your skirt in a twist! I'm just doing my job.” Punk laughed out and raised his hands up, mocking surrender as a smug grin pulled at his lips. “Besides I'm just keeping you relevant after they couldn't push you like they couldn't all those years ago.” He jabbed with a low snicker and raised a brow at him.

The comment only further enraged Drew as he pulled Punk back and shoved him into the wall again, keeping his grip on his hoodie tight. God, he could never keep his mouth closed, did he? He was shaking from anger boiling over as he leaned forward rather quietly, a low rumble came out of his throat

“Be careful man, I'm not at hundred percent, besides- I'm old.” Punk slurred out and kept his hands up, pretty much teasing him, daring him to do something. “Come on, back off. It's not my fault you aren't a lapdog anymore.” He muttered, narrowing his gaze up at the Scottish man.

Drew glared coldly down at Punk in response, a low grunt leaving him as he put Punk down letting go of his hoodie. “Yeah, at least I'm not a washed up guy who's only getting traction because people like riding his dick.” He uttered through gritted teeth and clutched his fist at his side.

“From what you did at Mania, it seemed like you just wanted my attention, Drew. In more than one way.” Punk added with a smirk as he brushed down his hoodie and kept his gaze up at him. “Always chasing my attention like a little bitch.”

The reminder of his actions during Maina had Drew actually pause and hesitate at the mention. Had his actions and behavior towards Punk come off a bit weird? Maybe, but at the moment he had only wanted to mock the man openly and hadn't thought through the implications of it all.

A lot of people had made passing comments or jokes that him crawling towards Punk on the commentary table and showing off his newly won title was a bit..sexually charged or gay. As they jokingly put it.

He wouldn't lie and say Punk wasn't attractive because well– it was obvious to a lot of people. Despite the man's age and the fact he made Drew want to rip his hair out he still looks good for his age.

“I'd dare to say you come off almost obsessed with me.” Punk continued, smirk still plastered on his face, keeping his gaze locked on Drew, not even hiding how much he enjoyed tormenting the man and how amusing he found it.

Maybe Drew did a lot of things out of spite and maybe it did come off obsessive, but Punk had given him a purpose. Maybe that did sound..weird.

“I'm not obsessed with you, you're my bitch. You hear me? When I get my hands on you in the ring, I'll make you regret you ever left AEW.” McIntyre fumed as he unclenched his fingers and stepped forward to tower over the older man.

Punk bit his bottom lip trying to stifle the snicker that threatened to escape him, as he watched the conflicting emotions pass through Drew's eyes. All that rage and frustration pent up in the other man was just comical, was this a taste of his own medicine for what he was doing with Hardy?

“You sound like you want to fuck me or something man, calm down.” Punk joked and crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the wall. His sarcastic tone coming out as he scoffed at the nature of his own joke.

McIntyre narrowed those icy eyes dangerously and his gaze darkened at the Chicago native. “Maybe I do.” He snapped back, taking a step forward to invade his space even further. He didn't really care how that sounded but if it shut him up? Oh, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

Punk stared at Drew with wide eyes for what seemed like way too long before blinking several times. His brows shot up in shock as he opened his mouth and bit back any retorts that might slip past. “What?” Was all he managed to utter out in his confusion and furrowed his brow at the other man.

Did he hear that right?

“You heard me, Punk.” Drew scoffed and reached forward to clasp a hand around Punk’s jaw, lightly holding it in larger digits. “If it shuts you up, I will.” It almost came out like a threat, but in reality, it was more so a result of his pent up frustration and other conflicting emotions about Cm.

That confused look morphed into surprise as Punk gazed back and forth in the hallway with a small frown. What was he supposed to say to something like that? One of his hands reached out and pried Drew's hand off his jaw before holding his wrist. Despite not being muscular like Drew, he still had enough strength to get the man to step back with him as he stepped forward.

“Alright then, pussy, do something.” Punk challenged with a scowl and tightened his grip on Drew's wrist, even if he could overpower him it didn't scare him. He was just a petty bitch in his eyes anyway, what was he going to do?

Drew's jaw tensed and his nostrils flared in contempt from the insults spewed from Punk. It felt like a school yard petty off from two men old enough to be dads, but it didn't matter in his eyes. Oh he was going to get him.

Drew never thought he'd get this far..

Drew growled out as he pinned Punk against the locker's room wall, practically attacking the other man's neck. His teeth grazed along his neck till he nipped and let out a puff of breath against the skin. “You better hope you can walk when I'm done with you.” He hissed out as he pulled back and leaned forward till Punk met him in the middle.

It was all aggression and pent up frustration between the two men when they kissed. Even with the hand clasping gently over Punk's cheek and the groans that left Drew. Their breathing mangled and as Drew pulled back, he couldn't help but stare at Punk for what was probably longer than necessary. He could partially feel the coolness from Punk's lip ring and it only added to the man's looks.

Drew's fingers linger across Punk's tatted up forearm which he already had exposed from his sleeves being rolled uo his elbows. His gaze rose to meet the smug grin that Punk had along with a cocked eyebrow. “What, do you like it?” He teased and chuckled softly as he shifted his weight. “I got more, y'know.” He added with a laugh and tilted his head when Drew moved his hand away.

McIntyre’s expression was still scowling and deep in thought as he leaned forward. “Can you keep your mouth shut for five minutes?” He growled with furrowed brows and leaned forward to brush his lips against Punk's again. Desperate and heated with the kisses shared between the two men along with being further encouraged by the moans that escaped Cm.

“I think you're my biggest fan, I've never met someone so desperate to touch me. Still using older talent to get by?” Punk uttered through pants of breaths and when Drew finally parted. His cocky grin only grew at the sight of anger flashing in the taller man's eyes.

“Very funny, Punk.” Drew huffed through his breath and shifted forward, pushing his thigh between his legs. His thigh against his crotch to tease and see how friction he could create. “How was that UFC run?” He sneered getting back in his face with a mocking snicker escaping from low in his throat.

Punk scowled silently, even though he was attempting to contain the grunt from the feeling of the stimulation. His breathing caught momentarily and swallowed back any snarky remarks he had in response.

“That's better.” Drew hummed, smirking through it as he gently pulled Punk off the wall. He led Punk over to the other side of the locker room and pulled apart the kilt, tossing it aside into an open locker. His hand placed over Punk's shoulder as he pushed him down gently to his knees in front of him. He had him right where he wanted him.

The Scottish man hooked his fingers in his wrestling trunks and paused, noticing the stare Punk was giving him. “What?” He questioned sounding genuinely taken aback by the nervous gaze from Punk. This was a first..

“I'm not exactly familiar with this kind of stuff, at least not..enough.” Punk explained slowly as he brushed a hand over his hair while keeping his gaze up towards the larger of the two. He hated how scared and almost worried he sounded but it was the truth and he was nervous to do something like this.

McIntyre paused and moved his hand away as he shifted to crotch down in front of Punk. “Are you serious?” He asked quietly, not faking the shock in his tone. “Men really have never been after you?” His tone was genuine like the idea that men didn't find him attractive was absurd. He was aware it was more normalized that women showed their attraction but something even boarding gay felt like a blacklisted practice even here.

The older man scoffed and raises his eyebrows in response to the genuine compliment coming from Drew. “Surprisingly no, I don't get a lot of that attention from male fans often.” He replied in an honest but also joking manner because yeah, not a lot of male fans came up to him for that reason or not to just shit on him.

“Weird, I think you look great.” The Scot scoffed furrowing his brow as he took a seat in front of him but not before sitting criss-cross. Yeah he still poked at him while he was at it. “I won't make you do anything you aren't comfortable with.” He added in a more sincere tone and watched Punk mull over his response with a small frown.

“You can still..fuck me, least you can do is prep.” Punk moved closer and moved a hand over Drew's thigh till he was leaning closer to the other man with a smirk. “I don't mind telling you what to do while you do it.” He added giving his thigh a squeeze with a small chuckle escaping him.

If only Punk knew the pent up frustration Drew had for him.

The only sound in the locker room was Punk's swallow breathing and the occasional grunt as he leaned over the bench. One of Drew's hands smoothing near his injured arm to ensure he wasn't putting a lot of strain by holding himself up on the bench. “Bit deeper..” Punk gritted and muttered a curse when Drew pressed his fingers in deeper trying to get him prepped enough with just spit and his fingers.

“You're taking this well for someone who doesn't take it up the ass.” McIntyre mused and halted wny rebuttal from Punk by pressing a second finger in. The stinging and stretch making the older man tense up and hiss out, lowering his face into his arm.

“Maybe I do know some stuff, but you don't need to know anything about that.” Punk retorted with a scowl as he adjusted his position so his arm wasn't taking as much stress. The feeling was foreign and he felt his body grow rigid as he tightened his grip on the bench till his knuckles turned white. It burned and only started feeling somewhat tolerable after a while of those larger digits being worked inside of him.

The only response he received was a small hum and chuckle as Drew withdrew his fingers and stood up behind Punk. One hand smoothing over the tatted up shoulders and the other working on trying to get himself slick by just using his own spit. He probably would make Punk take him but that may as well wait till another time.

“Alright, you can go.” Was the only okay he needed before he pressed himself against the other man slowly. His body leant over Punk as he wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him flush against his own body. His grin growing at the way Punk tensed and jolted when Drew finally pushed forward to bury himself halfway into him. A grunt of his own escaping as he exhaled through his nose staring down at the man at his mercy.

There was no mercy or stopping every time he drove into Punk and gave grunts of effort. His arm tightening around his waist as he thrusted harder into the smaller man like it would be his last chance to do so. His other hand curling fingers into his brunette hair and tugging hard enough to make the man arch back into his thrusts.

“Fucking hell..” Punk gasped and gripped the side of the bench for support so he wouldn't be pushed over by the force of Drew's thrusts. He swore the man was driving into him like it would be his last fuck or he was just so desperate for this it made him rough. “You’re a fucking slut, you know that?” He moaned out as he placed his other hand on the surface of the cool metal bench.

McIntyre almost snarled as he bared his teeth and slapped his ass nearly causing Punk to lose his grip if it wasn't for his hold on his waist. “Shut your mouth before I gag you.” He growled in his ear with a smirk when he felt the shutter come from the Chicago man. “Ah, see? Who's the slut now?” He drove his hips forward being met with a loud moan from Punk.

The Chicago native buried his face in his forearm, muffling the sounds spilling from his lips. His body shaking from the pleasure being shot in his system despite how hard he tried to act like it didn't had much effect on him. It brushed his ego to see that he was being so affected by something he should've been able to stop it.

The fingers dug into his scalp and hair causing a sting to resonate in his skull as he hissed out softly. His breathing heavy with each moan they spilt out and the feeling of his neck straining from the way he was being held back. He was going to be sore later.

It only took a few more thrusts from Drew to have Punk cumming hard. His body tensing up from the sensation rippling through his body. His breathing labored as he loosened his hold on the bench feeling his muscles unclench. His body partially collapsed into the bench as his body gave into the exhaustion in his system.

The Scottish man grunted, feeling him clench around him for the moment and tightened his grip on his hair before releasing him. His hand smoothing down his hip as he pulled back and stroked himself a few times. His breathing heavy as he stared down at the other and pulled Punk back till he was sitting on his knees. His expression prideful and proud like he was showing off the title to Punk, it felt good.

Plus the man was pretty all disheveled.

Cm cringed as he gazed at Drew stroking himself in front of him still breathing hard with his chest raising and hand falling. “You have to do that?” He muttered in annoyance but didn't make any moves to get away from him.

Drew shrugged his shoulders with a large prideful grin plastered on his features when he came purposely on his face with a low grunt.“See?” Drew sneered and grabbed Punk’s jaw in his hand as he leaned over to tower over the man. His eyes dark and accent thicker from the excitement and anger still lingering. “Told you, you were my bitch.”

[bunnys-kisses]

bear den

bear!john price

cw: pwp/smut, hybrid!au, bunny!reader, bear!price, scenting, breeding, biting, headlock, doggy style, dirty talk, reverse cowgirl

bunny says and you'll never catch me alive!

to be with a bear was something interesting. especially one as much of a lover as price. oh price was just perfect all over. those blue eyes that made you feel protected and warm. that strong grip of his as he bullied his cock into you. he was a strong, with a bit of softness to him and hairy all over. he loved tugging on your little bunny ears while he slammed his cock into your sweet pussy.

the first time you met him. it was quite scary. the dead of winter deep within the woods you called home. you managed to get your way into the warmth of his cabin/den. but your mother told you to never enter the den of a bear. what you soon saw was the lumbering form of bear hybrid.

"what are you doin' here?" he grumbled. his voice heavy was sleep. he was in hibernation after all. but his cock was hard in his sweat pants. he yawned, "if you're gonna make yourself at home. it's gonna cost ya."

the curious bunny gave head to the hairy bear. a tale as old as time. but the notion of bunny cunt seemed to entice the bear and he grabbed you by the ears and dragged you back into his den. the smell of bear was a lot for you, the dominate scent even made you iron resolve crumble. the wetness in your worn panties.

'this'll do." he grumbled as he tossed you on the bed. he got you under the covers. tore off your meager clothes and fucked your bunny hole half asleep. you on the other hand were wide awake. the breath taken out of you. he got through two rounds before his sleepiness took over and he went back to sleep.

he kept you after that, he told you a little bunny like you needed to be protected. who knew what was out there, in the deep darkness of the forest. so you spent the following seasons with him.

you became his lover, he even planted a carrot garden for you when the snow melted. oh he loved his bunny. he loved to tug on your cotton tail or take you by the face to look at him while he had you pressed up against the side of the cabin and your back bent.

but when winter came, he made sure his bunny was taken care of while he was asleep. bunnies could hibernate if they felt safe enough, but you wouldn't be dead to the world if you did.

but in all fairness, the smell of bunny in his cabin didn't keep him asleep for long. you woke up in the morning, snow was pressed up against the window. but the sun shined in.

the smell of price in your bedroom was overwhelming. the room was small, but the big was large. but price's hairy body still made you feel small on the bed. so the smell of the bear hung heavy. the bed had every blanket, pillow, sweater, stuffed animals, anything else he could find to make his nest. the final piece was you. where he tucked you in and snuggled you until he eventually dozed off.

you had been asleep for over a day now, you looked over and saw him sound asleep. you reached for him and kissed him on the nose. his arm was heavy over you. you shifted in your spot and got out from under him.

but you couldn't get out of bed. as he grabbed you by the tail. "where ya goin', love.' he said with sleep heavy in his voice, "i didn't tell ya you could leave." then you were dragged back into bed with a 'hmfph'.

he snuggled you back into his arms, "you don't have my smell on ya." he grumbled as he rubbed his face up against your bare chest. there was no point in having clothes on while in the nest. you were under so many layers you were already warm enough.

"john!" you squeaked as his tongue came out and started to lick across your pulse, "it's only us in the entire area. plus it's only to the kitchen."

"no." he said, he ran his teeth across your pulse, "gotta smell like me." you made a noise as he, in tired trance, got you on your hands and knees. the weight of the blankets and his larger body kept you pinned to the soft mattress.

"john!" you whined, "c'mon!"

he grumbled something. his cock slid up and down your pussy as he tried to push it into you. you arched your back in anticipation. poor price, his head was full of sleepy cotton. he relied on instinct and right now it was directing him to breed his little nest mate.

you moaned, to have your face buried in the pillow. that reeked of your lover only made you wet between your legs. as if the leftover cum from your lover wasn't enough lube for his impressive size. he was big all over. so different from your tiny bunny self, no wondered he wanted to protect you.

and breed you.

your heart raced as he finally got his cock into you. he sank into your sweet cunt. he groaned as he leaned over you and put his arm around your neck and bent your back. his thrusts were sloppy, there was no rhyme or reason, only what felt good.

"you feel so good, love.' he grumbled, "always so perfect for me." his gaze was unfocused, his voice sleepy and slurred, "a good little bunny for me. with your cotton tail and those ears. my girl though, right? all mine? not gonna have ya run off with a coyote or somethin'. keep ya home, keep ya full." he gave you a lazy smile as our eyes met. he leaned in and licked across your cheek. his bear ears twitched at the taste of your soft skin against his rough tongue.

your core throbbed, the entire feeling. the coziness of your den that you shared with price left you feel soft and warm. you were comfortable and safe, so why not let price breed you? you were already so soft and warm, let your brain let it go and accept him.

he held you close to him, bent to his liking to have the best angle of your pussy. his broad paws were all over you, he held your throat and around your middle as he thrusted up into you.

"john." you whimpered, your focus was hazy and your thoughts dripped away like melted snow. the sun shined thought the window of your den, it bathed you in a bright glow.

"i know. i know." he purred, he blinked to get a little more awake, "so small. i could crush ya easily. poor little bunny got caught up with a big bad bear. now she sharin' a nest with him and letting him bully her sweet little cunny."

his words made your brain mushy.

the bed creaked under your love making, he still held you like a toy for his pleasure. he lazily made out with you as he moved you up and down his cock. he groaned, his lips close against yours, "my girl. my little bunny. i love the feeling of ya around me."

you made small noises and hearty pants as the movements continued. as he kept ramming against your sweet sex. you were a right fit for him. after all these months you still were so good for him.

he watched your focus come in and out. your tongue stuck a little out of your mouth. the little bunny had her brains fucked out, oh no! he let go of you. his hands on you as he maneuvered your once more and got you into a reverse cowgirl. the blankets were kicked to the bottom of the bed.

he was propped up against the headboard and kept you in his lap. his cock buried into your slick pussy. he held onto your hips and bounced you on his cock. he wished he could see your breasts bounce with every thrust, but to watch the sweat drip down your back.

your nest got heated, your scent bled a little bit into the air of the room. it was musky and comforting. to be fucked by a bear was something unlike anything you could describe. he just fit you so right.

"good girl."

"john."

"i know, i know." he groaned. the rush of pleasure raced through his body as it did yours. he felt the same euphoric of having his cock buried into his sweet mate. he made sure that his scent was all over you, he was certain it would stick this time.

you leaned forward and held onto the covers that were between his legs. he watched how your pussy swallowed up his cock with each movements of your hips. he licked his lips as he moved your faster.

he watched your cotton-tail twitch, it almost made him cum at that moment. he continued to move your hips, the rush of climax almost washed over him.

the two of you made love like animals in your nest that he had built for you. to protect you. his cock throbbed in your cunt and with a few more thrusts he finished inside of you.

"ah!" you whined as you arched your back. you came as well and clutched onto the sheets. your toes curled and you felt your heart racing.

price felt content as he smothered you in his pecs. they were softer and hairy. he had gotten a little thicker for the winter. you made a soft noise as you were buried in them.

"john."

"i know bunny, i got ya. now sh, time to go back to sleep." he purred as he grabbed the blankets with one hand but kept you to him with the other. he buried you back under the nest of blankets.

yeah, that sounded like a great idea. you weren't even too sure if you could walk if you got up. so with the glow of the morning sun peeking through your window, you fell back asleep with your face in your mate's chest.

-

it was spring now. but you and your bear mate have been slow to wake up for it. price still was in a tired mindset, constantly cuddled up to your partially swollen belly. you were only four months, but price still adored how you carried his cub.

he made a gruff noise and cuddled up with your middle further. his facial hair which had grown over hibernation brushed up against your exposed middle. such a cute little bunny and her adoring mate.

you ran your fingers through your hair as you heard the birds chirp outside and the sound of melting snow. next winter it would be you, price and your little cub all sharing a nest to sleep soundly through the winter <3

xoxo, bunny

[bunnyreaper]

simon riley who is the one who rescues you when you're taken hostage by an enemy pmc, fighting through hell just to get you back.

simon riley who doesn't hesitate to take his mask off so as to not frighten you further. it doesn't matter that you've never seen his face, or that he's breaking down his barriers, all that matters is that you don't shake when you look at him.

simon riley who carries you out of there, safe in the warmth of his arms that hold you like he'll let you go again.

simon riley whose heart breaks because he recognises the haunted look in your beautiful eyes, and he knows he'd do anything to see them sparkle like they used to.

simon riley who slowly acclimates you to being touched again (it totally is just for you, he swears). soft brushes of his pinky against yours, a guiding hand on your back, picking a piece of fluff out of your hair.

simon riley who doesn't ask questions when you find comfort cuddling into his broad chest, because he knows mentioning it would only make you feel bad. he doesn't want to lose the way you only find peace cuddled up next to him.

simon riley who kisses your forehead but only when you're asleep, because he still has secrets to keep. he doesn't think you feel the same way, he just thinks you see a protector.

simon riley who cares even if he doesn't have the right words to tell you.

simon riley who loves you, and spends every day thankful he didnt lose you.

[coryosbaby]

Time to Pretend .. Will Graham x student! Reader

Content warning . 18+ NSFW

His sweet little moans sound so delicious in her ear that it almost seems right to be touching him like this.

Oh, and how sweet he looks. Her forensics professor leans against his desk, big arms gripping the edge of it as his pants rest at his ankles. His cock is red and achy in her hand as she rubs the tip of him with her palm.

He stays still for the most part, but boy does he make faces. His mouth dropped open, eyes scrunched closed as she whispers foul mouthed things in his ear. He whines when she kisses him firmly on the mouth, feverently pressing his lips against hers like a man starved. She pulls away from him with a small chuckle.

“Concentrate, professor.“

“Please,” he murmurs, breathless. Her thumb rubs over his cockhead and he fucks into her hand with shallow thrusts. “Please, baby— I can’t—“

“You can,” she coos. His glasses fall crooked on his nose, and she kisses him on the cheek before setting them straight. “Come on, professor Graham, don’t you want to be a good boy for me?”

The sound he makes is borderline pornographic. He nods, because yes, he wants to be a good boy for her, he wants it more than his next breath. He bites his lower lip to muffle his sounds— it’s a lunch break, and anyone could walk in.

“Look at you, honey,” she sighs out, hypnotized by the pre cum spilling over her fist. “You’re so wet. Practically dripping down my hand.”

“It’s.. it’s because you’re making me feel so good,” he breathes out. His hand reaches out to wrap around the wrist stroking him, and he doesn’t know if he wants her to stop or keep going because his brain has turned to complete mush. He assumes the latter, because he can feel his orgasm rapidly approaching when she twists her wrist a certain way. “You’re making me feel so good. Fuck— “He tilts his head back, eyes rolling. “ I’m— I’m close. I’m gonna—“

Her hand stops, pulls away from him so suddenly that he lets out a choked sob. Not again.

“No!” He whines, and reaches out to grab her fingers and put them back where they belong. She slaps his hand away.

“Did I say you could do that?” she asks, scolding. “Put your hands on the desk. Don’t fucking touch me, ever.”

He wants to scream. But his obedience doesn’t waiver now, and he digs his fingernails into the wood of the table. She smiles at this, her hands trailing up to his hips and squeezing them.

“You’re so pretty,” she praises, and tilts her head. “It’s too bad you’re such a brat.”

“I’m not.” he replies under his breath, almost annoyed. But not really— he could never be annoyed with her.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought,” she says, before wrapping her hand around him again. He sighs in relief, his cock so red that it’s almost purple. How long has it been since they begun this? Thirty, maybe forty minutes? He should be concerned about getting caught, but right now he’s too far gone to care.

There she goes again. Bringing Will to the edge, denying him. Over, and over, and over. Until some semblance of mercy is cast upon the poor man when he sees her pull down the front of her skirt. She tugs the waistband of her underwear open so he can see the top of her mound, and she directs the tip of his cock right above it. She jacks him feverently, telling him to squirt all over her aching pussy.

Will is excited, almost relieved of all of his fucking issues when she says this. It’s all going great— until the sound of a doorknob jingling reverberates through the room.

Panic surges through Will. He had locked the door (thank god), but now the person on the other side begins to knock.

He thought she would panic. She doesn’t.

“Better cum now, professor,” she teases, batting her eyelashes, and he bites into his wrist. “Cmon, baby, I’m finally letting you cum. Is a little audience really giving you cold feet?”

“(Y/N), I swear to God—“

“Will?”

He hears a voice from outside, one that seems to be looking for him.

Jack Crawford. He’s getting edged by one of his students, and the person to come knocking on his classroom door is Jack fucking Crawford. His forehead bumps against hers and his mouth falls open.

He can’t help what happens next. Maybe it’s all the pent up sensations, or the way her pussy looks so delectable and she’s begging for him to cum all over it— maybe it’s the fact that he might get caught. But the man’s mouth drops open, drool seeping out of the corner of it, and he finally, finally reaches his peak.

He practically drenches the girl’s panties, glazes the inside with sticky white and fights the urge to yell how thankful he is. She strokes him through his orgasm, a grin on her face at the sight of his spend coating her. The knocking sounds louder, but fuck it feels so good that Will could care less.

She pulls her hand away when he comes down. She smiles, her lips grazing the shell of his ear.

“Good boy,” she whispers, and he shudders.

“Will?” Jack’s voice sounds again, concerned almost. “Are you in there?”

The girl shakes her head— a signal. There’s a smile on her face as she sees Will’s distraught face. He stays silent.

It isn’t long before Jack leaves, going off elsewhere to find him. He hears retreating footsteps, and breathes a sigh of relief. Looking at her, his jaw clenches tight.

“Why did you do that?”

She shrugs. “Why not?”

He wants to be angry, but all he’s thinking about is the load that’s drying in her underwear. She kisses his cheek before she skips to the door, vacant on the other side.

“See you tomorrow, professor.”

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy

[bunnysbrainrot]

Too Sweet

A series inspired by Hozier’s ‘Too Sweet’.

Relationship: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Content: No sexually explicit content, at least not yet. Some slight fluff? Slow burn vibes? Joel is kind of a dick (for once in my writings), but a protective dick.

Summary: You’re one of the newest arrivals in Jackson after a long trip to seek refuge. Now that you’re settling in, one of Jackson’s most integral men is the head of your first patrol. Will Joel be able to set aside that gruff demeanor for the sake of meeting someone new?

A/N: I’m so sorry about my recent hiatus, everyone. I’ve thought of this series for a while, to get me inspired again and to work towards something bigger. I’ve also thought about having some sections/chapters be from Joel’s perspective. Thoughts on that? Sorry it’s nothing spicy yet, but we’ll work up to it. Tensionnnn

The sound of birds echoed outside your bedroom window. By some miracle, you’d found a community, after so many months wandering either alone, or with the occasional group, but never for long. The mattress beneath you squeaks as you shift in your bed. Normally an irksome noise, but it reminded you that you were finally safe.

A faint light of dawn trickles through the gaps in the curtains, streaking around the room in a periwinkle hue. Your sluggish grog was slowly wearing off, while you processed your plans for that day. It was a Thursday, according to your new watch. God, you hadn’t realized how much you missed being able to tell the time. Who knows truly how long you’d been out there. Days blurring together, the minutes excruciatingly drawn out without company.

It was nice to be a part of something again.

Finally, you sat up in bed, rolling your head to stretch your neck. How long had it been since you had a proper pillow?

A smile crept onto your face. You’re better rested than ever, but an anxiety still ate away at you. Today was your first patrol outside of Jackson. You weren’t alone, of course, but the expectations you held for yourself could be your downfall.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you whispered to yourself.

Walking over to your dresser, you eyed yourself in a dusty mirror above the chest of drawers. A kind woman named Maria had provided you with a few new outfits when you’d first arrived a week ago. In the meantime until today, she’d given you those days to process and settle, and you were grateful for her patience.

When Maria had asked you what role you’d like in the community, she could see the steely glint in your eyes. Well seasoned from years of fighting and running, yet still a kernel of a protective rage.

You had expressed to her of your journey before finding Jackson. On that day she asked you how many of the dead you had taken out thus far.

“In total, by myself, well over three hundred, I would say. I don’t know, I think I lost track at some point.”

Her expression shifted to one of assurance, like they’d just gotten a worthy addition to their town. Someone who could protect what they’d all built.

She explained the basics of patrols, the routes laid out on an old map, with hand drawn trails and indicators of the area. You made an attempt to remember as much as you could, but surely you’d get good practice being out there, actually doing it.

————

You check yourself before heading out the front door. This time of year, the weather has started to warm up, so your opted for a t-shirt, jeans, a light jacket, and a ‘new’ pair of hand-me-down boots.

The air outside was cleaner than you’d imagined. The scent of early morning breakfasts wafted through the breeze, bringing a pang to your stomach. Maria hadn’t mentioned how long patrols would take; you debated if you had time to grab something from a stall in the heart of town. Other residents had been given spaces to cook for the community, giving out easy meals for these hardworking people.

Turns out you did have time, to your relief. In a matter of minutes, you held a piping hot breakfast sandwich in your hands, its heat seeping into your chilled fingers.

A few folks wave a friendly ‘hello’ as you trek to the Southern side of Jackson, to its border wall to meet up with your patrol group. There was a huddle of both peiple and horses, you noticed, as you got closer. One of the people turned to you, giving a wave in recognition.

“Hi, am I late? I thought I’d have time to get breakfast,” you explained.

There was a woman with kind eyes who spoke next, “Not at all, these bastards just insist on getting up at 5:30.”

“That sure is an early start.”

“It gets them cranky like you wouldn’t believe,” she replied, quickly cut off by a new voice.

It was a gentleman who called to the group, “We all here?”

His voice wasn’t commanding, but it did put people into gear to check themselves. Clearly he was the one in charge of this patrol. The look in his eyes told you all you needed to know.

He might be someone to watch.

You turn to the woman, “I’m sorry to ask, but I don’t know anyone here yet. Is there any way you could give me a run-down of who everyone is?”

With a smile, she listed off the names of your group members, pointing them out. Some of them noticed and waved, others gave a slight smile, and others asked for your name. All were introduced until it was down to the man who’d rounded the group.

“And, that’s Joel. He’s head of the patrol.”

Your eyes shot to Joel now that you could put a name to the face. There was a moment of pause when you met his gaze, a moment frozen in time from his stare. He scanned over your face, down to your shoddy boots, and back to your eyes.

His expression doesn’t soften as he says, “Glad to have ya with us. Should be a horse on the way for you.”

Joel turns to face the gate as he rummages through his pockets for a folded map. He unfolds the paper until it spans across his horse’s shoulders.

The rhythmic clonk of a horse’s hooves came from behind. A familiar face approached with a stunning mare, it’s Maria.

“Mornin’ everyone, that should be it,” Maria traded off with you, handing you the mare’s lead. She spoke louder, announcing to the group. “Y’all stay safe out there. Shouldn’t be too bad, but it is getting warmer. Keep an eye out for groups.”

Members of your party nodded before Maria walked off, giving greetings to other folks who’d just begun to bustle around.

Your attention shifted back, specifically to Joel. It seemed that whatever he says, goes, so that’s what you’d follow.

Two men at the top of the wall made their way to the edges of the gate, hauling it open. Golden sunlight peeked above the mountains ahead, casting the world in a yellow glow.

Joel nodded, then a gruff, “Be smart. Stay close.”

————

The sun was overhead now. You’d been out here for hours, keeping an eye out for any infected that roamed too close to camp. A while ago, you spotted one trapped in an abandoned cabin. Which was quickly dispatched by one of the men in your party.

That cycle repeated almost wordlessly amongst you all. Hardly a single word had been uttered aside from Joel’s occasional command or redirection.

For the most part, things were going smoothly. And after a few minutes of some peace and quiet, you realized you’d strayed away from your spot in the formation. Your horse had fallen in pace with a beautiful brown stallion, riding on top, was none other than the leader.

Joel.

You’d turned to see who it was, but were quickly met with another intense stare. Your gaze darts to the side as you issue an apology, “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to get so ahead of everyone.”

For the first time his expression does soften. A slight hint or kindness in his eyes. The corners of his eyes crinkle with his slight smile.

“It happens. Just… keep a lil’ distance. You’re new, can’t have you rushing ahead without someone else with you.”

The words would form a lecture if it weren’t for his tone. It wasn’t scrutinizing, but rather soft and protective.

His advice brings a smile out of you. A genuine one, for the first time in a while. Perhaps he wasn’t as much of a hard-ass as you’d assumed. You tug your horse’s reins to slow her pace, creating a few feet of space between you and Joel.

Yet even still, that smile he gave you kept your heart racing.

It would be a horrible idea, to fawn after him.

Right?

That thought had no effect on the tightness in your chest, or the fluttering in your stomach. Perhaps it was simply happiness that someone so hardened could be so easily friendly. A hard exhale later, you told yourself that it was the camaraderie that flustered you.

—

The group had made their journey back to town. Aside from the occasional runner, there wasn’t much defense needed this morning. Once your group returned, you’d have lunch and trade off with the next group, and share your findings before they venture out.

You had let your mind wander as you rode with the group.

In a split second, your mare bucks in fright. There was no time to assess what scared her before you were shooting ahead, flying past your patrol group.

“Nonononono- NO! It’s alright, it’s alright-“ you cry, but it falls on deaf ears of a scared animal. Tugging on the reins made no difference. You still shot ahead of the others, directionless without someone to guide you.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re safe! You’re okay. It’s gone!” You plead to the horse to slow down. The reassurances don’t seem to be enough.

A thundering set of footsteps is heard behind you. In a swift move, Joel jabbed his horse with his heel, pushing himself to race ahead of you.

With the rush of the air and galloping hooves, you could hardly make out his instructions.

“What?!” You shouted.

“Pull the reins! And I mean pull!”

You gripped the leather of the reins, drawing them to your chest, tugging your horse’s head back and away. Her pace slowed, but she kept running, now to the left. You could make out a curse from Joel as he redirected.

In a stroke of luck, he made some headway. Joel’s horse zoomed forward, and merged directly in front of yours, and the interruption slowed the mare’s pace just enough.

Another tug of the reins helps her into a steady beat. Joel was directly ahead, now turned to the side to block more of the path. Your horse huffed and threw her head frustratedly. In that short time you had no clue just how far you’d strayed away - looking backwards told you that it was at least a few hundred meters.

Embarrassment showed in your flushed cheeks and wild expression, looking to Joel for some sort of scolding.

“I think something scared her. I.. I didn’t get a chance to see, it all happened so fast-“

Joel raised a hand to stop you mid-sentence. He didn’t wear a smile like before, but his expression wasn’t angry. If anything, he had that protective look once again.

“I know. They’re skittish, ‘specially her. She needs a little more control than the others.”

It’s a reassurance, truthfully. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing you weren’t on the shit list on the first day. Your breathing had slowed down now, though your heart still raced wildly in your chest.

He scanned your face thoroughly before he asked, “You alright?”

A nod is what you could muster. It’s enough for Joel to give a nod back before waving to the folks behind you, the rest of the group, to call them over.

“Maybe next time I’ll have a more confident horse. No offense….” you paused, “what’s her name?”

Joel’s lips tugged into a smile, “That’s Belle you’re ridin’. Poor girl hasn’t been out in a while, so she’s not as warmed up to this. But you did good with her, all things considered. Handled it well.”

You reached down to pat Belle on the side of her cheek, caressing her carefully.

“It’s okay, Belle. We’re with you. You’re alright now.”

A smile vanished from Joel’s face when you look back up at him. He cleared his throat, his eyes skirting away until your party began to join up with you two.

“It’s all good. Belle got the jitters. Let’s head home.”

With that explanation out of the way, the team could finally resume their return home. Along the way, Joel didn’t have much else to say, much to anyone actually. His silence was solemn - definitely not any invitation to strike up conversation.

Perhaps that’s how he’d always be - resigned, reserved, and off limits to everyone. A part of you ached at the thought of it.

For Joel, that loneliness could be his downfall.

Hi guys! Thanks for reading, I’m sorry if it seems a little boring, but it’s for the sake of the story building. TRUST it will get nasty soon. 🥰

[littleslvtbunny]

Thinking about cockwarming Mommy’s strap and realizing I have to go peepees. I’d tell her that I need to go to the potty and instead of responding she starts to thrust up into me. Her strap pushing on my full bladder from the inside. Squirming and whining and begging Mommy to stop and let me go potty but she just keeps fucking my little bunny hole, shushing me and telling me I can hold it until she’s done. Except I can’t hold it and on a particularly hard thrust I let out a big spurt of peepees. Mommy telling me there’s no point in holding the rest of it now that I’ve already made leakies on her lap, her hand reaching around me to push hard on my lower tummy and forcing me to empty all my peepees while she keeps fucking me. 🫣😵‍💫

[bxnnywrites]

🖤 Killers Reacting to Nervous!Reader Holding Their Hand (Pt. 2) 🖤

AN :: Since my last one was well received, I decided to do another one as a quickie! I'm also testing out a new layout so lmk what you think!! Hope you guys enjoy <3

Characters :: Kazan Yamaoka (The Oni), Eva MacMillan (The Trapper), Frank Morrison (The Legion), Susie Lavoie (The Legion), Bubba Sawyer (The Cannibal), Ellen Ripley (Bonus!) Pt 1 Here [link]

༉ Kazan Yamaoka :: The Oni

[PT: Kazan Yamaoka: The Oni]

✴ He's surprised by it at first, your small hand in his giant one.

✴ It puts into perspective just how tiny you are compared to him, though these days it's rare for anyone to be bigger than he is.

✴ You're so small, so frail. It gives him a surge of protectiveness, the need to keep you safe.

✴ He leans over and brings the back of your hand to his lips, kissing it softly, gentlemanly.

✴ Fucking hell that makes you blush even more.

✴ He chuckles a bit, ruffling your hair with one hand. A small act of affection to let you know you're safe.

✴ He will keep you safe, no matter what.

༉ Evan MacMillan :: The Trapper

[PT: Evan Macmillan: The Trapper]

✴ Honestly? He's a bit nervous too.

✴ He won't admit that though, won't even show it. Him? Nervous over someone holding his hand? Nah, he would never.

✴ He squeezes your hand in return, pulling you just a bit closer, but doesn't have much immediate reaction to it.

✴ Absolute sap about it in private though, can't stop thinking about it. It was so simple but it reminded him that you loved him, only him.

✴ The next time you're together he takes the initiative and holds your hand first. Keeping you close to him to really let everyone know who you belong to.

✴ Fuckin dork.

༉ Frank Morrison :: The Legion

[PT: Frank Morrison: The Legion]

✴ Aw, lookit you! You're so nervous from just some hand holding.

✴ "You're damn cute when you blush like that, babe."

✴ You pout in return and he chuckles, pulling you a bit closer and kissing your forehead.

✴ "You're just provin' the point, y'know?"

✴ More pouting and he's grinning ear to ear, bastard that he is.

✴ But you suppose that's why you love him in the first place, cocky son of a bitch.

✴ Anyways, similar to Michael, his hand now. It shall be returned within 3-5 business days. Dw about it.

༉ Susie Lavoie :: The Legion

[PT: Susie Lavoie: The Legion]

✴ asdfghjkl;'

✴ Oh my god hand? Hand Holding???? You are Holding her Hand?????

✴ Screaming internally

✴ You're blushing so much oh fuck you're so cute you're so pretty

✴ What does she do oh shit fuck uuuuuuh

✴ Holds your hand tighter, trying not to implode from her own nervous wreck of emotions.

✴ Eventually, and very quickly, she kisses your cheek.

✴ Trying not to die from her own blushing and embarrassment.

✴ You give her hand an affirming squeeze, smiling at her, and she relaxes.

✴ God how did she get so lucky?

༉ Bubba :: The Cannibal

[PT: Bubba: The Cannibal]

✴ You...you're holding his hand?

✴ You're so gentle, your hands are so small, so soft.

✴ He could crush your hands if he wasn't careful, a similar worry to Michael's.

✴ But you were holding his hand!!! Your dainty little hand was in his!!!!

✴ It was a sign you loved him, really loved him!

✴ He starts giggling, he can't help himself. He doesn't even notice how nervous you are, consumed with his own delight.

✴ Pulls you into a really, really tight hug. One of the ones where you have to remind him to be gentle.

✴ He makes an apologetic noise and nuzzles his face into your hair, picking you up bridal style to hold you close.

✴ He's so happy you love him, he loves you just as much. He's so darn lucky to have you.

༉ BONUS :: Ellen Ripley

[PT: Bonus: Ellen Ripley]

AN 2: wifewifewifewifewifewifewife

✴ Damn that's sweet.

✴ Sweet like the feeling of fresh coffee in her veins, like hearing her cat purr against her chest.

✴ And you're so damn cute all nervous like this, it makes her heart sing.

✴ God she's so glad to be trapped in this hellhole with you.

✴ She kisses the back of your hand and runs her thumb over it gently, giving you this look that lets you know you mean the world to her.

✴ And you look at her the same way.

✴ Wordless but full of meaning in such a simple touch. Affection that goes beyond what words could describe.

✴ The other survivors are gagging from how sweet you two are.

Final Notes :: I'm a big butch lesbian so I added my Wife as a bonus because this was a bit of a sausage fest (besides Susie, perfect lil angel baby). It was weird writing romance for Susie tbh bc when I look at her I'm just like "Ah yes, my child." because whenever I play as her I get weirdly protective and if she gets palette stunned it becomes like, a personal offense. That's my fuckign niece dude!!!!! But I know some peeps would love to be romantic with her so I am here to provide. As is the authors duty. If you make it weird I'm shanking you behind a Wendy's.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to rb and follow if you enjoyed!! <3

[moonchildreads]

small town

Chapter 24 - Up Where We Belong

IN THIS CHAPTER: Graduation gowns, strawberry milkshakes, and Wayne asks a question [9.9k]

WARNINGS: dealing with grief (nancy, dottie, eddie to a less extent), writer not knowing how graduations are in the us

A/N: happy new year!!!! i hope everyone is having a wonderful start of 2024, here's your belated christmas gift from yours truly. if you read this and think "that's not how that works", then i don't know what to tell you bestie but i tried. i watched a TON of graduation ceremonies on youtube and i pulled heavily from those, aside from borrowing things from my own not-american graduation. i hope you enjoy it anyways! (and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!) <3

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

All we have is here and now All our life, out there to find

Friday, June 13th - 1986

Wayne Munson had walked the halls of Hawkins High School several times throughout recent years courtesy of his nephew’s misbehaving, but never making it past Principal Higgins’ office was turning out to be a problem. Resigned, he stomped on his cigarette gently before following a family that looked like they knew where they were going, regretting not taking up Eddie’s offer to escort him inside before he disappeared in search of his friends and fellow graduates. Graduation. Ain’t that a funny thing to think about, Wayne mused. The auditorium, he noted as he finally found it, was decorated in bright orange and calming forest green, a Class of 1986 paper banner hanging from the dark curtain that was doing its job as an unassuming background at the very back of the room. On the stage, there was a regal-looking wooden lectern, and a small table with stacked up rolls of paper tied with orange and green ribbons; next to it, a bunch of black chairs where teachers would probably be sitting during the event had been carefully lined up into a single row.

Excitement filled the air. It was in the murmurs of the people taking their seats, skimming their programs to proudly find the names of their kids printed on the semi-matte paper. It was in the way the school’s faculty could not stand still, barely having time to say hello to everyone walking in before they were off to check yet another little detail so everything could go as smoothly as possible. Wayne walked down the central aisle trying to find a good spot to sit in while feeling a bead of sweat go down his back. The last time he’d worn a suit, any suit, had been to his mother’s funeral eight years before; in fact, he still only owned that one suit. The temperature in Hawkins was steadily rising as June turned into July, and Wayne felt incredibly stuffy in his clothes but he didn’t dare wear anything less for such a special day. Eddie had defied all odds and was now a High School Graduate, the first Munson to walk to stage in three generations. Truth be told, his Uncle was willing to bet that he was actually the first one to do so in their entire family history, and thus, Wayne wore the suit, and the shirt, and the tie, and searched for a seat near the front to witness his nephew doing the exact opposite of what the whole town had always expected him to do: succeed.

Bianca, Donny’s mom, was fussing over her youngest grandson, Francesco, when she saw Wayne looking a little lost in the crowd and waved at him to wordlessly invite him to sit with them. The eldest Munson approached them with a smile, settling himself on the row behind the Vitale family who was so very busy trying to keep little Francesco and his (barely) older cousin Marco from running down the aisles and bothering other families.

“Good to see y’all made it,” Wayne commented, shaking Donny’s dad Angelo’s hand before turning to Vittoria, Donny’s heavily pregnant older sister. “Though I coulda sworn I heard you were on bed rest, missy.”

“I am, but what my doctor doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” she laughed, hand resting over her swollen belly. “This little lady hasn’t stopped kicking me all day, I think she’s more excited than I am to finally be outside the house!”

“It’s a special day, I’m sure the doctor won’t mind too much as long as we take it slow,” her husband said, kissing the side of her head. “Say hi to Mr. Munson, Marco.”

“Hi!” the little boy said, standing between his parents’ seats. “Whose Grandpa are you?”

“Marco!” his dad exclaimed, but Wayne laughed loudly.

“That’s not a grandpa, you dummy! That’s Eddie’s dad,” said Francesco, before grabbing his cousin’s hand and leading him towards Nonna Giulia down the row in search of the candy she always kept in her purse.

“I’m sorry,” Vittoria said with an apologetic smile. “They read this picture book about families at pre-school and now he thinks all men with white hair are grandpas.”

“Ah, it’s fine. I know I’m not gettin’ any younger,” Wayne joked, his eyes straying to the side of the auditorium where the seniors were finally getting ushered into formation.

The Vitale family craned their necks to see their boy, and Wayne in turn searched for his: Eddie was standing near Jeff towards the middle of the line, the two of them engaged in conversation as they waited for everyone to get into their respective places. It wasn’t that Eddie wasn’t paying attention to what his friend was saying; he was clearly answering back and keeping the chat going, but it seemed to his Uncle that he was searching for someone in the crowd, eyes scanning rows of unknown family members for a face he hadn’t yet found. Wayne was about to lift his hand to let him know where he was sitting, but it soon became apparent that Eddie hadn’t been looking for him - he had been looking for the short haired girl who had just ran into the auditorium with a panicked look on her face and an askew cap on her head.

Dottie hurried over to where her classmates were standing, enveloping a curly haired girl Wayne wasn’t familiar with at the very back of the line in an enthusiastic hug before doing the same with Donny. Wayne saw with an amused smile how Eddie waited patiently for his turn while she hugged Jeff, and how all his anxiety looked like it was melting away as he embraced her, eyes closed and face buried in her hair. After saying their hellos, Dottie kept walking to the front of the line where she greeted a strawberry blonde girl with excited hops and shared an equally loving hug with both her and Gareth. Her dad watched her with a fond smile from his place near the doors, a program held tightly in his hands. Taking pity on the poor man who Wayne knew was attending the event alone much like he was, he motioned for James to join their mismatched group who gladly took the offer, walking briskly towards the still empty seat next to Eddie’s uncle. James greeted Donny’s family before getting comfortable on his wooden chair and let a long breath out. Finally.

“Long morning?” Wayne asked, knowingly.

“Be grateful you don’t have a teenage girl in your house, Wayne. It was near impossible to get here on time,” James scoffed.

“Can’t be worse than Ed’s allergy to his damn alarm clock. It went off for a whole 15 minutes before he got up today.”

“Did it wake you up?”

“Nah. Was already up reading the paper but I wasn’t about to turn it off for him. He just rolls over and keeps sleeping if I do,” he said, and James shook his head with an affectionate smile on his face.

“Teenagers, right?”

“Yup. Teenagers.”

Over the few short months Wayne and James had known each other, they had learned to appreciate the quiet but hard work the other did for their respective kid. It wasn’t easy to be a single father, and even though Wayne wasn’t Eddie’s biological dad, there was no doubt in James’ mind that he fulfilled that role wonderfully in the boy’s life and heart. The Munsons and the Burkes had gone through a lot over the years, that much was undeniable, but on that hot Friday morning both fathers could be proud that their kids had made it to the other side relatively unharmed, all the while somehow finding each other to rely on along the way. If Dottie and Eddie were going to be inseparable all summer as they had been since the day they met, it was only fair James and Wayne got to compare notes on parenting and commiserate over the little annoying things they’d miss once the kids had left the comforting safety of their family homes.

Before they could continue their talk however, teachers began herding the seniors into a neat single file and getting into their places on the stage, Principal Higgins taking his spot behind the lectern. Excitement amplified as the crowd hushed - only suppressed coughs and a few little children’s voices could be heard in the quiet room. Wayne saw Higgins approach the mic and took a deep breath letting the pride he’d been feeling all morning take over him. The heat of the almost-here summer was forgotten outside in the parking lot, along with his smushed cigarette butt and the heavy weight he’d been carrying since a CPS agent left a scared 8-year-old Eddie on his doorstep all those years ago.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I’m Hawkins High School Principal Thomas Higgins,” the man began, voice booming across the room with the aid of loudspeakers; Dorothy peered at him over the shoulder of the taller girl standing in front of her. “On behalf of the faculty, staff, and administration of Hawkins High, we’d like to welcome family and friends, and most importantly, to our seniors to the Commencement Exercises of the Graduating Class of 1986.”

Higgins paused for effect and the crowd followed his cue by breaking into happy applause - the aforementioned seniors gleefully waved to the few family members they could find within the sea of heads straining to look at them. The Class of ‘86 stood patiently to the side towards the back of the auditorium, waiting to be called into the main aisle where their names would be announced one by one and they’d go up the stage, accept their diploma, and go back downstairs to the rows of chairs at the front left that had been reserved for them. The full graduating class was small, no more than 40 students, and Dottie wondered how different things would have been for her if she were graduating with her New York classmates in a year that comprised around 400 kids instead of doing it in Hawkins, Indiana.

“Please, rise from your seats and join us in singing the National Anthem, followed by the Hawkins High School Spirit Song,” Higgins announced, and the sound of creaking wooden chairs filled the air as everyone followed his request.

Dottie sang along to the National Anthem without thinking too much about it, but when the first notes of the Hawkins High school song came through the speakers, she realized she had no idea what the lyrics were. No one had told her they’d be singing it during their only rehearsal, and certainly no one had spared a moment to teach it to her in the last six months. She wasn’t even sure she knew a spirit song even existed before that very moment. Eyes surveying over the crowd of family members, she saw that most if not all were singing along - the only ones not joining in were probably those who hadn’t attended Hawkins High and lived in a different town, perhaps even in a different state altogether. Heat rising up her chest under her dark green gown, she turned her head to the front, feeling very much like an outsider amongst her peers for the first time in months. Bryan Butler right behind her sang louder as the song was ending and she tried to not call attention to herself to let him take the spotlight. Once the music stopped, Principal Higgins neared the lectern to continue his speech.

“Thank you, you may be seated now,” Higgins said, and the wooden creaking resumed for a second as everyone sat back down to watch the rest of the ceremony. “The Hawkins High School Class of 1986 has experienced many memorable moments over the last four years, and Hawkins is proud of how these young graduates have worked and persevered through hard times to get to this day. We as faculty could not be prouder or more thrilled to celebrate with them, and we look forward to sending them off onto the next chapter in their lives. Parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and other family members, we are honored to have you here today as our guests to celebrate our graduates and we thank you for your support. Please clap along as the Class of 1986 proceeds to their places.”

The speakers began playing Pomp and Circumstance March No.1 in D and the crowd broke into fervent applause once more, Michael Allen leading the way for his fellow seniors to stand in the central aisle right below the middle set of stairs where they’d wait to be called to the stage. As they fell into their designated spots, Dottie finally recognized who had been assigned to stand right in front of her; it was Robin Buckley, the shy band nerd she had met at Family Video a few weeks earlier and briefly bonded with over their shared love of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. She was wearing white Converse sneakers with little drawings in blue and black ink, and the edges of her black rolled up jeans could be seen poking below her gown. She’s so cool, Dottie thought, not knowing that Robin was desperately trying not to scan the audience lest her nerves paralyzed her. Not even painting her nails bright orange had saved them from being chewed on this time around.

“Hawkins High School’s Class of 1986 was given the opportunity to choose a member of our staff to read their names as they cross the stage today,” Principal Higgins explained as three people already on stage stood from their seats. “I am honored to announce that this year, our Assistant Principal Mrs. Elaine Chandler will present the diplomas to our newest graduates. Mrs. Suzanne O’Donnell, Mr. Leopold Hauser, and myself will present them with their diploma cover, graduation medallions, and honor cords if applicable. Elaine?” he motioned for her to switch places with him.

“Thank you, Principal Higgins,” said Assistant Principal Elaine Chandler, adjusting her glasses on her nose as she looked down the list of names in front of her. “Allen, Michael,” she called first from behind the lectern, and the crowd clapped as Michael went up to her and received a hug and a rolled up certificate before moving down the stage towards the other teachers to shake their hands.

Dottie’s palms began sweating as more names kept being called and her time as a Hawkins High student slowly came to an end. Even though she had felt very much like an intruder looking in through a window during her first few months in the town, she had to admit that was happy here now - certainly much more happier than she’d ever been back in New York. Here all the teachers knew her name without having to read it from a file. Here she had a group of friends she’d go to literal Hell and back for, and she had a boyfriend who loved her the way she’d always thought love should be: easy and gentle. Here she had attended the best prom of her life, and her face would be permanently attached to a club that had given her the safety she’d never gotten anywhere else to finally, truthfully, be herself. Here Dottie had been at home.

While Barnes, Kathleen was getting her extracurricular honor cords for being part of the cheerleading team, Mrs. Chandler called upon Buckley, Robin and Dottie suddenly found herself at the front of the line. Robin climbed the steps with as much grace as she could muster while being pretty much mortified, and Mrs. Chandler soothed her with friendly pats on her back before presenting her with her diploma. The tall girl accepted it with shaky hands, her rings glinting under the stage lights, when a loud cheer rang above the polite applause of the crowd. Robin laughed, half embarrassed and half grateful, and when Dottie turned to see where the sounds were coming from, she found not only Dustin and Erica hooting and hollering besides a couple who were clearly Robin’s parents, but also that Steve guy that worked at Family Video with her, the one that Robin had described as her strictly platonic best friend with a capital P. It looked like retail did bond you forever after all.

Mr. and Mrs. Buckley looked between confused and amused as Steve pinched his bottom lip and let out a loud whistle - a chortle escaped Robin’s mouth while a cheerful Mr. Hauser, who had been her favorite teacher all four years of high school, put her graduation medallion around her neck, nerves all but forgotten before she skipped her way down to Mrs. O’Donnell to receive her extracurricular honor cords for being in band. Huh, that’s curious, Dottie thought distractedly. Didn’t know Dustin and Erica were such good friends with her and Steve. I wonder how they met.

“Burke, Dorothy,” called Mrs. Chandler through the speakers, jostling Dottie out of her musings.

This was it. The moment of truth. Dottie climbed the stairs and accepted a hug from Mrs. Chandler, hearing her friends cheering for her loudly in the background when her damp fingers came into contact with her diploma. She glanced at the crowd and time seemed to stop when her eyes found her Dad, a proud smile on his face and his program tucked under his armpit so he could clap loudly for his daughter. She waved at him and Wayne, who had also stood up to cheer for her, and time resumed after a blinding flash went off and she was whisked along to where the rest of the teachers were standing. She shook hands with both Principal Higgins and Mr. Hauser even though she hardly knew both men, and accepted her diploma cover and her graduation medallion before turning towards Mrs. O’Donnell. She was about to hug her teacher when the old woman presented her with her own honor cords, entwined green and orange ending in delicate tassels dangling from her manicured hands.

“That’s not- I’m not-” Dottie began.

“You have one of the highest GPAs in your year, besides being involved in two extracurriculars. Congratulations, Miss Burke. You’ve earned this,” O’Donnell said, and it was perhaps the only time in the whole semester Dottie had seen her genuinely smile.

“T-thank you,” she managed to get out, letting the woman drape the cords on her shoulders and rushing to her seat before she began bawling on stage.

“Hey, congrats!” Robin whispered once they were both seated next to each other, shaking her own cords lightly. The ceremony continued with no regards to their little chat.

“You too! Didn’t know I had qualified for any of this, I think everyone saw me have an aneurism up there.”

“Nah, everyone’s too nervous about not tripping down the stairs on their way back, don’t worry about it.”

“Coleman, Gareth,” Mrs. Chandler announced, grabbing Dottie’s attention.

Carver, Jason hadn’t even reached the sidestage stairs to go down after accepting his diploma when Gareth, in his haste to get everything over with, tried to climb two steps at a time and got his feet tangled in his dark green gown. Cunningham, Chrissy, who was right behind him, quickly caught his arm before he could lose balance and hit the floor. He quietly thanked her with red cheeks and embarrassed eyes before he finally went up the stairs, one step at a time. Chrissy went back to the front of the line while other classmates around Dottie and Robin snickered at the little mishap; Gareth accepted his diploma and other paraphernalia, and got the hell off the stage as quickly as humanly possible.

“Thank God that wasn’t me,” Robin muttered, and Dottie grimaced in agreement.

Gareth ended up awkwardly sitting between Jason and Chrissy, but much to his relief, they had all been assigned to the row behind Dottie. Taking advantage of the proximity, he leaned forward to talk to his friend as the ceremony progressed and Chrissy quickly joined, stopping to give Dottie a kiss on her cheek from her seat behind her as a second greeting. Jason watched the scene unfold and asked himself when had his girlfriend started hanging out with people he didn’t know. He thought he knew everything about Chrissy - when had that changed and to what extent? Selfishly, he couldn’t help but think about what the future would look like for them when they left for college. Chrissy was headed to OSU and he would be at Indiana State, almost four hours and more than 250 miles between them. Would this be their last summer together? He didn’t like to entertain that thought.

Davis, Monica, Foster, Kyle, and Hanson, Randall were some of the names they didn’t pay much attention to until Humphrey, Andrew was called to the stage. Jason distracted himself from his anxiety over his relationship possibly having an expiration date by clapping loudly for his best friend. Dottie and Gareth shared a mischievous look: Andy wasn’t wearing any bandages on his nose anymore, but the dark purple shadow under his eye was still very visible with the bright stage lights illuminating his face. After him came Hurley, Marcie, one of Dot’s colleagues from the newspaper club, and Kemper, Lucy, the girl who had sold almost everyone their prom tickets. Morgan, Theresa was on stage when Dottie realized she knew almost all the people in her graduating class by name now, even if they had never spoken to one another before. In New York, she’d never known the names of all the people within a single class, not since elementary school at least. She wondered if they remembered her, but then decided she didn’t care that the answer was probably a resounding no.

When Munson, Edward was called to the stage, Dottie and Gareth stood up to make as much noise as possible, both infinitely proud of the long haired boy with the charming eyes who was accepting the one piece of paper that had seemed so elusive all this time. Dustin and Erica hollered at him, and the rest of the Hellfire Club, still in line waiting to accept their diplomas, joined them in their antics. When Principal Higgins went in for a handshake, Eddie pulled him into a hug; the older man laughed and let it happen, a sort of fondness for the metalhead’s unwavering resilience present in their interaction. He accepted his medallion and his own honor cords for being the Chapter Leader of a student organization, and just before he climbed off, he approached the edge of the stage with a dazzling grin.

“Here it comes,” Dottie muttered, anticipating her boyfriend to give the middle finger to the entire town and bolt as he had declared he’d do on multiple occasions.

What Eddie did instead was find his Uncle in the crowd and bow deeply in his direction as people clapped for him like it was the end of a play. Wayne pretended to not be choking back tears as his nephew got off the stage, lips pursed behind his fingers trying to hide the grin threatening to break out on his face.

“Coward,” Gareth said, and Chrissy hit him in the shoulder.

There was no time for Eddie to do anything more but find his seat, because immediately after him came Patton, Jeffrey, and exactly ten names later, came Vitale, Donatello. The teachers laughed and cooed at his excited nephews jumping up and down the aisle, cheering for his favorite Uncle. One day in the not so distant future, they’d probably be handing them their diplomas too. Just how many faces in the crowd had walked through these same halls, attended the same classes, and some of them even had the same teachers as the Class of ‘86? A much younger and recently married O’Donnell, a Higgins as a History teacher prior to his Principal days, a Kaminski after his eldest son had just been born. Never before had the kids in the Hellfire Club felt as much part of the Hawkins High community as they did now - it almost felt unfair that they had to permanently leave the place to finally feel that way.

“And last, but certainly not least,” said Mrs. Chandler when there was only one person left to climb up the stage. “-Wheeler, Nancy, the valedictorian for the Class of 1986 who will say a few words for us and her fellow graduates after receiving her diploma.”

The crowd broke once again in loud applause as a red cheeked Nancy in her dark green gown and bright orange valedictorian stole greeted all her teachers with a few flashcards containing her speech in her hand. Karen Wheeler looked at her daughter with shiny eyes, infinitely proud of her little girl that’d grown into a smart, capable woman right in front of her. In a few months she’d be far away, following her dreams, and taking a piece of her mother’s hopes with her as she did so, but none of her fears. Holly raised her arms, silently asking to be lifted up so she could see better, and Karen picked up her youngest daughter, pointing at her big sister in the distance so she could wave at her. Nancy took her place behind the lectern and looked at the audience, a carefully put together mask over bittersweet eyes that Dottie had almost become used to seeing on her friend. If she stared into a mirror too deeply, she could recognize the dents in her skin of her own mask, now laying shattered at her feet.

“Honorable guests, Principal Higgins, Hawkins High School faculty, academic and supporting staff, friends, families, and graduates - good morning,”  Nancy began, voice soft but pleasantly clear. “It is with great pride that I stand here before you on such a special occasion to deliver this speech, which I promise I’ll try to keep short and sweet,” she lightheartedly smiled at her audience before she grew solemn once more. “However, before I start, I would like to ask you to join me in a moment of silence to commemorate the students and family members who could not be here today with us, and to remember the victims of the Starcourt Mall Fire on July 4th, 1985.”

Not a sound could be heard for a few heartbeats, and Dottie watched the faces of the town she’d come to love morph from amused to weary. There was real mourning here, a deep gash left open in a community that couldn’t heal properly because some wounds were just too deep to scab over. Eddie had told her everything he knew about what had happened, the official story everyone that hadn’t been involved in the tragedy repeated when asked, and her heart constricted when she saw Dustin and Erica in their seats with their heads down. They looked downright haunted. Steve sat next to them, watching over them with such turmoil in his eyes that Dottie had to wonder if there was something they were all missing about what happened. Had Steve also been in the mall with them? Had Robin, who was quietly sitting next to her like she was reliving a horror movie behind her eyes, her fingers absentmindedly tangling and untangling themselves in her honor cords?

Karen, sitting next to her unaware husband and emotionally closed off son, took a few deep breaths to keep her tears at bay and gently kissed Holly’s head before shifting her baby on her lap to hold her against her chest more tightly, like someone could snatch her off her arms at any given moment. Dottie twisted her mom’s engagement ring on her left middle finger and bit the inside of her cheek while blinking away the wetness gathering on her lash line. Not now, she scolded herself. Later.

“Thank you,” Nancy said, breaking the silence and moving onto her next flashcard. “Four years ago, we arrived at Hawkins High as children, and we are now leaving as young adults with our whole lives ahead of us. Some will go on to college, others will enter the workforce, but all of us will take the lessons learned here and let them guide us to become who we were always meant to be,” she turned to look to her side. “I'd like to thank our teachers for sharing their knowledge with us, for being patient and pushing us to achieve great things. With their help, our Hawkins High Mathletes reached their first ever state finals and brought home the silver medal earlier this year.”

There was a loud cheer coming from somewhere in the auditorium that sounded very much like Rick Stewart, exiting Captain of the Hawkins High Mathletes. Some people laughed goodnaturedly and joined in, the teachers clapping proudly at their labor being recognized. Nancy smiled and continued, knowing the applause would only get louder as she read the next part of her speech.

“I'd like to thank our coaches and counselors for making school more than just homework. You taught us about discipline, teamwork, and integrity, which led our basketball team to win the 1A North Central Conference Championship for the first time in 22 years,” the applause that followed was deafening, and it took several minutes for it to die down before Nancy could keep going. “I'd like to thank our families for supporting us in more ways that we could ever count, for chaperoning our dances and field trips, cheering for us at our sporting events, and attending all our plays with so much love and commitment, that our Drama Club was able to extend their winter run of West Side Story with a packed audience every night until their closure.”

The cheers this time were much more subdued, yet polite and sustained enough to not be embarrassing to the Drama Club members and their families in the audience. It was clear, however, where the town’s loyalties stood: Indiana’s love for basketball was known throughout the country, and Hawkins wasn’t the exception to the rule. Nancy looked at her graduating class and grabbed the last two flashcards in her pile.

“No one achieves success alone, and we are truly grateful for the help and guidance we’ve received during our years as Hawkins Tigers. However, if my classmates indulge me for a second, I’d like to ask each of you to think about a moment where you felt proud of yourself. Think about the things you’ve accomplished here, and the challenges you’ve overcome. A great woman by the name of Eleanor Roosevelt once wrote, you gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, ‘I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.’ You must do the thing you think you cannot do. Our time as Hawkins High School students has come to an end. We did it, Class of ‘86. We did the thing we thought we couldn’t do, and we’ve learned that we can take the next thing that comes along, so keep moving forward. I’m proud of you, and I hope you are too. Thank you, and congratulations to us all.”

Dottie followed Nancy with her eyes as she shook Principal Higgins’ hand once more and left the stage towards her seat. Her hands were shaking lightly, and her lips were pursed, but she almost looked lighter, like she’d left significant weight behind that had nothing to do with public speaking related nerves. Nancy’s speech had been beautiful, there were no doubts about that, but it was strange to think about someone like her looking at her high school years as something that had been horrific to live through. She was popular enough to not have been bullied, pretty enough to have been desired and looked up to, smart and well-off enough to never have to worry about not fitting in.

High school was certainly hard for almost everyone, but the way Nancy had spoken about it left a familiar bitter taste in Dottie’s mouth. If Eddie had been right when retelling her the town’s recent strange happenings, Nancy had probably been thinking about her friend Barb when writing her speech. She would have most likely graduated alongside her, maybe she’d be headed to a nearby college where the two girls could still see each other often, or to a completely different one across the country and they’d have to call every weekend with updates on their new lives. Holland, Barbara should have been called up to the stage between Hall, Suzanne and Humphrey, Andrew, but now she was just another name added to the always-growing list of people who ought to have been there, but ultimately couldn’t be.

“Thank you for that inspiring speech, Miss Wheeler,” said Principal Higgins, returning to his place behind the lectern to close out the ceremony. “Graduating is an amazing achievement for these students, and we here at Hawkins High are excited to see the things they’ll accomplish in the future. By the authority vested in me by the Governor of the State of Indiana, Mr. Robert D. Orr, I confer the appropriate diplomas for the Class of 1986. Graduates, please move your tassels to the left,” he smiled at his now former students. “Congratulations Tigers, you can now throw your hats!”

As they had been instructed during rehearsals, they threw their hats directly above them, not wanting to lose them on the way down before they could take pictures with them but in the excitement and elation of the graduates, some caps ended up on the floor, prompting kids to search for the lost items under their chairs while their classmates cheered above them and congratulated one another. Dottie hugged Robin again while Principal Higgins said his goodbyes through the loudspeaker without anyone really hearing him, families eager to leave the auditorium and get into their cars quickly to avoid the inevitable bottleneck at the entrance of the parking lot.

“Thank you all for coming and being part of this special moment,” Higgins said, voice ringing above the loud chatter and scraping of chairs. “Please drive safe and have a good weekend!”

“Dad!” Dottie called upon seeing James talking to Gareth’s family near their cars. He waved at her in acknowledgment and she turned to her friend to say her goodbyes. “I’ll call you as soon as I have my new schedule down, okay? We can go to the movies some day!”

“I’m gonna go see family up North next week, but I’ll call you when I get back,” Chrissy said, arm still tangled with hers. “We have to go see the new Karate Kid coming out soon, Ralph Macchio is so cute.”

“I’m not even gonna correct you on that because I do wanna see it with you, but just know I think you’re crazy,” the brunette said, laughing at her friend.

“Well, excuse me, bad boys aren’t everyone’s type,” the blonde retorted, a secretive grin gracing her fairy-like features before she pulled her into a goodbye hug. “I’m gonna miss you!”

“We’ll see each other soon! You go have a great trip, forget about this boring town for a while.”

After the girls said their goodbyes and went in separate directions, Dottie watched Chrissy greet her family with curious eyes. She didn’t know much about the Cunninghams and was surprised to see that her newest and most unlikely friend had a little brother she had never mentioned before. He must have not been the right age to be in high school yet or he’d probably be under Jason’s overprotective wing, especially if he was athletic like his big sister.

Chrissy might have looked small and dainty, but there was a certain fierceness cheerleaders had in their step - their aura had been painstakingly trained to command a room and demand attention. And yet, Dottie noticed that as Chrissy turned from her unassuming Dad to her elegant Mother, the brightness she radiated seemed to dim ever so slightly, even if her charming smile stayed in place.

“There you are! I was looking for you everywhere,” James exclaimed, her thoughts instantly lost to the wind. “Congratulations, honey. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Dottie melted into his hug, knocking her cap even more askew with his shoulder. “They gave me honor cords, did you see? I didn’t know I had earned them!”

“I’m seeing them now! You worked so hard, good job.”

“Congratulations, sweetie!” Lydia, Gareth’s mom, said, pulling her into a hug. “Have you met Gretchen yet? Gare’s big sister?”

“Hey, congrats,” Gretchen said with a polite smile on her face.

“Thank you, hi! It’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Likewise,” Gretchen said, eyes sparkling with mischief as she saw Gareth approach with two more kids toddling behind him. “I’m always really curious to meet any girl who would even talk to my brother in the first place, but you seem normal enough.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Gareth said, and Erica snickered.

“Honestly, he’s lucky we’re nice to him,” the middle-grader joined in, making Gareth groan in annoyance.

“You’re my friend, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Congrats, Dot!” Dustin said, hugging the older girl from her right side, prompting Erica to cuddle up to her on the left. “We’re super proud of you.”

“Aw, Dus,” she pouted, leaning her head on his. He really was like the little brother she’d always wanted and never had. “Thank you, you’re so sweet. I’m happy you two could be here!”

“It was fun! We enjoyed it.”

“I saw you guys with that Steve guy earlier, did you come with him?”

“You know Steve?” Dustin said, curious.

“Yeah, he works at Family Video with Robin!” Dottie said.

“You know Robin?” it was Erica’s turn to ask.

“Uh, yeah, we’re classmates? She was sitting next to me throughout the ceremony- wait, how do you know them? What am I missing here?”

“Nothing! Steve’s, uh- Steve’s our babysitter!” Dustin hurried to say. “Did you know he used to date Nancy a while ago? That’s how we met, through Nancy. And we know Robin through Steve. Hawkins is a very small place.”

“W-what? Nancy and…”

“Yeah, she dumped him in front of everyone at a party and he’s been all mopey and sad since then,” Erica said, prompting Dustin to elbow her. “What? Just the facts!”

“Uh…,” Dottie looked at Gareth, dumbfounded.

“Anyway,” Dustin continued, aware that multiple eyes were on him. “He’s our babysitter.”

“Dustin, you’re fifteen,” Gareth laughed. “You’re a little old to still have a babysitter.”

“My Mom’s protective of me, okay? I’m an only child.”

“And he’s a good babysitter?” Dottie asked, amused.

“The best. Steve’s… yeah, Steve’s great. More like an older brother figure than a babysitter,” Dustin smiled, clearly fond of the older boy. “You should hang out with him, I think you’d like each other.”

“Stop. Just stop,” said Erica, knowing where Dustin was headed.

“What?” he shrugged, feigning innocence.

“Alright, let’s take some pictures!” said Lydia, not having paid any attention to the kids’ conversation.

While they were in the middle of taking photos, the remaining Hellfire Class of ‘86 joined the group with their respective families. Eddie snuck up behind Dottie while she was distracted taking a picture with Jeff and picked her up, arms encircling her middle and spinning her around while she giggled unabashedly, hands coming to rest on his forearms when he put her down but didn’t let go. Wayne had to hide a chuckle while he talked to the other parents; his nephew really wasn’t as smooth and mysterious as he thought he was, and Wayne had been around the sun too many times to not recognize what he was seeing between Eddie and his little lady friend. Gretchen, in turn, looked at Donny and lifted an eyebrow at him quizzically.

“What have I missed?” she quietly said, a smirk lifting the corner of her lips. She’d always liked Donny the best out of all his brother’s friends, and was aware that as much of a good confidant as he was, he never shied away from gossip.

“He said he wanted to wait until after graduation to ask her out so I don’t think anything has happened yet,” Donny muttered back, crossing his arms and leaning closer to her friend’s big sister. “They’re totally gone for each other, though.”

“You don’t say,” Gretchen said and turned to Erica who looked very interested in their conversation. “What do you think?”

“I think he’s too chicken to ask her out,” Erica laughed. “But they have been looking really cozy lately. That’s suspicious.”

“Eddie knows she’s into him,” Donny said, making Erica’s eyes widen. “Forgot to tell you about that.”

“You bastard, I thought we had a good thing going and you’re withholding information from me? Nuh-uh, this is betrayal. I want reparations.”

“Oh, she’s feisty,” Gretchen said.

“Come to the restaurant this weekend, I’ll give you ice cream and we can catch up and compare notes,” Donny offered, genuinely interested in keeping his friendship with the fiery younger girl intact. “But it has to be this weekend, Dot starts working with us on Monday.”

“How big is that ice cream?”

“Big as you want.”

“Deal,” she put out her hand for them to shake on it, but it was merely a formality - Donatello Vitale had no intentions of ever crossing the one and only Erica Sinclair again.

As families began saying their goodbyes and heading to their cars, it soon became clear that Eddie and Dottie did not want the festivities to end so fast. They’d already taken multiple photos with everyone and with each other, waved Dustin and Erica off as they climbed into Steve’s red BMW, and even said hello to the Wheelers, but they would just not leave each other’s side, always fluttering around one another no matter what was happening. If James thought anything strange about it, he didn’t mention it, but as Wayne looked at his nephew’s beaming smile, he realized he didn’t have the heart to cut his happiness short when there was such an easy solution to their problem.

“You two have any plans for lunch?” Wayne asked James, finishing up another smoke.

“Not really, no. I was thinking of picking up some burgers to celebrate. Why? You have any suggestions?”

“Well, me an’ Eddie like to go to the diner down on Randolph on special occasions. Thought you might want to join us,” he smiled at the kids who were now both staring at him expectantly.

“Can we go, Dad?” Dottie asked with hopeful eyes. “They have crinkle fries - you love crinkle fries!”

“That’s really kind of you, Wayne, but we don’t want to intrude,” James was saying, but Eddie hurried forward.

“You wouldn’t be intruding, sir. We both graduated today, we can celebrate together!”

“Come on, Dad, they wouldn’t ask if they didn’t want us there.”

Both older men looked at each other with knowing eyes and James sighed theatrically before conceding, his daughter cheering happily at the new impromptu plans. The teens quickly headed in the direction of their cars deep in their own happy little world; their parents amusedly looked as Eddie opened her door for her and helped her in while they talked about burger combinations and debated about their orders.

“Meet you there?” James asked Wayne, also getting into his car.

“You bet. Come on, boy, quit the yappin’. You’ll see her again in ten minutes, she’s not gonna run away from you!”

“Jesus Christ, Wayne!”

Eddie and Dottie had already been to the diner down on Randolph a few times; some of them before they’d begun dating and once after, but never with their parental figures as unofficial chaperones. The booth at the back they loved to sit at was occupied, so they chose a table near the front instead - the diner was bustling with energy as multiple families had had the same idea as them and got a headstart on their kids’ summer holidays. Eddie helped Dottie with her chair, thoroughly enjoying how shy she’d get whenever he did something remotely gentleman-like, and plonked himself next to her, quickly engaging in conversation about the menu she was holding. James had no option but to sit in front of his daughter as Wayne took the seat in front of Eddie, both of them also busying themselves with their own menus.

The teens tried to act normal in front of their elders, they really did, but it was such a lovely day, and they were celebrating one of the biggest achievements in their short lives that it was as if they’d forgotten that friends didn’t usually look so smitten with one another. Wayne took little peeks at them over the bright laminated piece of paper in his hands, catching how Eddie was stroking the side of her arm resting on the table with his pinky finger while she talked; he loudly coughed when James put his menu down and took his reading glasses off, the unexpected sound making them jump and separate instantly just in time for him not to see them. A young and friendly looking waitress approached their table, pad of paper and pen in her hand.

“Hi! Are you ready for me to take your order or are we waiting for the wives to arrive?” she said with a perfect customer-service smile. Dottie blinked up at her twice, her face morphing into a blank expression.

“No, thank you, it’s just gonna be us four today,” James said politely.

Today, he’d said. Like Margaret and Maureen were off doing other things, like working or shopping or attending a jazzercise class, and couldn’t join them for lunch but they’d probably be around later. Like they weren’t gone forever. Like they were still alive. Nancy’s speech rattled around in Dottie’s brain, her eyes glazing over and her ears filling with invisible cotton. James and Wayne ordered their food, and Eddie ordered for both himself and her, very much aware that something was bothering her. Her sight was stuck to her Dad’s hand resting on the cheap laminate tabletop. The gold band that had been there on his finger since Margaret and him had said I do all those years ago taunted her, glinting under the fluorescent lights of the diner. They’d promised each other forever, and what did they get? What did she get?

“Dot,” Eddie muttered, hand sneaking down the table to settle on the exposed skin of her knee. “Darling, can you hear me?”

“Huh?” she turned to look at him in a daze.

Behind him, there was a table where a family sat: a father, a mother and a daughter, barely older than she’d been when she’d lost the most important woman in her life. The baby gurgled in her Mom’s arms, and the woman cooed at her, noses nuzzling against each other’s. Dottie turned her head towards the other side of the diner where a mother was cleaning up a little boy’s face, chocolate staining his chubby cheeks.

She had just graduated from high school and her mother wasn’t there. She hadn’t been there when she got her first period, during her first heartbreak, or when she won a spelling bee at age seven. She wouldn’t be there when she graduated college, when she got her first job, when she got married to the boy who was holding onto her leg with worried eyes. She would never be there, not today, not tomorrow, not ever. It was always going to be just them.

“Honey, are you okay?” James asked, leaning forward.

“I-I’m sorry,” she managed to get out before she stood up and bolted outside and into the parking lot, her chair scraping against the floor in her haste to get out of the diner.

“I’ve got it, sir,” Eddie said before he sped after her, his chains rattling with every long step he took to catch up with her.

In silence, James and Wayne watched their kids through the huge windows next to their table. When Dottie saw Eddie running behind her, she turned her back on him, hugging herself as she tried to keep her emotions together. She lifted a hand to wave at him over her shoulder and said something - probably that she was okay, that she didn’t need help so he should go back in - but as he came closer, it was evident that the storm that had been brewing inside her all morning was on the brink of overtaking her. All it took was feeling his hand hovering on her shoulder for her knees to buckle as she folded onto herself, Eddie instantly rushing forward to catch her and pulling her into his chest, her back rising up and down violently as she sobbed into his graduation gown. He chewed on his lower lip as he held himself together, never one to cry in public where people could see him and judge him for it. He muttered something into her hair, his chin resting onto the crown of her head, gently rocking her side to side as her sobs subsided.

“She was really lonely until we came here, y’know,” James said, breaking the quiet that had fallen on their table. Wayne could only look at his nephew, the gentleness he’d always known he’d possessed perfectly on display. “All her new friends are great to her but Eddie… you’ve got a good boy there, Wayne.”

“They’re both good kids,” Wayne said, matter-of-factly. “It’s a damn shame they’re so young and been through so much already.”

“Yeah, it is.”

In the parking lot, unaware that they were being watched, Dottie lifted her head from Eddie’s chest, an embarrassed smile on her lips as she fanned her face with her hands in an attempt to dry her tears without ruining what was left of her mascara. Eddie, still holding onto her, blew on her cheeks; she laughed, heart feeling equally heavy and light at the same time. There was joy and levity to be found in shared grief, that was something new she had learned from him.

“Sometimes I feel like Eddie understands her better than I do,” James admitted, fingers toying with his wedding band.

“They understand each other in ways that you and I never will,” Wayne mused. “That ain’t a bad thing. Actually, I think it might be healthy.”

“Mhm,” James agreed, half lost in his own thoughts.

Dottie squeezed Eddie one last time like she was mentally preparing herself, gathering strength for whatever came next, and nodded once to let him know that it was okay to let her go. Eddie followed her inside quietly, holding the door open for her as they filed in and sat once again at their table. They both looked very tired, and perhaps even a little bit flustered at having to face their guardians after bolting out of the diner so unexpectedly. Dottie leaned forward to grab a napkin to blow her nose.

“M’sorry,” she said, eyes low. James grabbed her hand gently.

“You okay, honey?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. S’just a lot, you know?”

“I know,” her Dad said, watching her glance at Eddie next to her.

“Can I… is it okay if Eddie and I go to the lake after lunch?” she asked, shy. “We want to burn some cards.”

“Yeah, of course,” James said, knot tightening at the base of his throat and fingers tangling with his daughter’s.

Eddie was silent through the entire interaction, hands hellbent on shredding the paper napkin in front of him to minuscule pieces. Wayne could feel their table shake as he bounced his leg frantically, something he had long understood as his nephew’s tell when holding back tears. The waitress, unaware of what had just transpired, came back at that moment with their drinks and two milkshakes for the teens. Dottie smiled at them with wet eyes, and Eddie had the indecency to look sheepish: she hadn’t mentioned to him she wanted one, but he knew she loved strawberry milkshakes from this specific diner because they made them with real strawberry ice cream and not the powder. He must have ordered them when she blanked out. The simple gesture felt like balm for her anguished soul.

“Well, I’d like to propose a toast,” Wayne said, dissipating the remaining uncomfortable tension at their table. “To the Class of ‘86.”

“To the Class of ‘86,” James joined him, clicking their bottles of Coke together in the air.

Food arrived shortly after, and as an easy conversation sanded whatever edges were still sharp for the moment, Wayne observed the tender behavior of the kids sitting in front of him. It wasn’t as playful as it had been before, no, this felt much more… intimate. Considerate. Muted, yet still softhearted. Not missing a beat in the story she was telling to her Dad, Dottie grabbed the cherry on top of her milkshake and left it on top of Eddie’s. He gave her a toothy grin before popping it into his mouth, and she shook her head at him fondly. Yeah, this ain’t a bad thing at all, thought Wayne, taking a bite out of his food and laughing along with James at the ridiculous gossip Dottie and Eddie were sharing about their now former classmates.

“Okay, hold on a second before you run off,” Wayne said, as his nephew ushered his friend towards his van.

After lunch was done, it was decided that Wayne would drive Eddie and Dottie back to their trailer so they could get Eddie’s van and head to the lake for what they were calling The Card Ritual. The eldest Munson didn’t really understand what it meant, but it seemed that James knew what they were talking about so he didn’t ask too many questions about it - all he knew was that the kids were going to buy some cards at Melvald’s and then burn them, and that Dottie was emotional over the whole thing. If burning some paper brought peace to her heart, then who was Wayne to judge? He’d indulged in far more destructive coping mechanisms throughout his youth, evidenced by his unshakeable smoking habit.

After they’d said goodbye to James, they climbed into Wayne’s truck and headed to Forest Hills, graduation caps, gowns, and his suit jacket now discarded into the backseat. The heat kept rising in the early afternoon and Wayne just wanted to get out of his clothes, drink a glass of icy cold water, and take a nap in his undergarments next to his trusty fan, but he felt like there was a pressing conversation to be had before he went in and could finally relax on his day off.

“What’s up?” Eddie asked, Dottie coming to a stop next to him.

“I just gotta know, kid,” Wayne turned to her. “Does your Dad know about you two or do I have to play dumb with him?”

“W-what? What do you mean?” she asked, nervously.

“I may not be young, but I ain’t blind, sweetheart,” he smiled. “You’re not in trouble, I just wanna know how to act around your old man, that’s all.”

“He doesn’t know,” Eddie muttered, grabbing Dottie’s hand and surprising her with how quickly he confessed. “No one knows, we haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Except Chrissy,” Dottie said.

“Except Chrissy,” he conceded. “She knows because I asked her for advice, but she’s the only one.”

“How long?”

“Huh?”

“How long has this been going on?” Wayne asked, pulling his lighter out of his pocket.

“Uh, like two weeks? We’re not, like- we’re not official yet,” Eddie scratched his neck uncomfortably.

“Not offi- Edward,” his Uncle hardened his stare. “I taught you better than that.”

“Shit, I swear I was gonna do it today! Wanted to wait until after graduation, I’m not trying to be a flake-”

“It’s okay! We talked about it,” Dottie said, hanging onto his arm. “I don’t mind waiting, we just thought it’d be best to keep it a secret for now,” Wayne turned to look at her, wary. “Mr. Wayne, please, I’d announce it at the next Town Hall meeting if he’d let me.”

“We share all the same friends,” Eddie explained. “They’ll wanna know all the details, and I just- she breaks up with me and I’m the biggest loser in Hawkins, you know how those assholes are.”

“Oh my god, stop calling yourself a loser!” she whined.

“Don’t break up with me, and I won’t be!” he argued back, but it was clear he was being silly about it.

“Okay, so what’s the situation here? You two dating or not?” Wayne asked, getting back on topic.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, smiling down at her with hearts in his eyes. “We’re dating. I was gonna ask her to be my girlfriend officially later today but I might as well do it now since you’re so nosy.”

“It’s not like anything’s changing anyways,” Dottie said. “We just didn’t put a label on it, but I’ve kinda been his girlfriend since that party we went to a couple of weeks ago.”

“Hell yeah you are. And I’m your boyfriend, right?”

“No, you’re my private driver,” she deadpanned. “Of course you are, Eddie, what kind of question is that?”

“Just making sure, darling,” Eddie said, and Wayne snorted at how smug his nephew looked.

“Well, then… you two can go now, I guess. I’ll keep the secret.”

“Thanks, Mr. Wayne,” Dottie said, coming to hug him. “We’ll tell people soon, we just want a little bit of privacy for now. The guys can be so nosy sometimes.”

“Don’t I know that, kid,” he chuckled. “I’m real happy for you two.”

“I’m really happy too,” she whispered to him, a bashful smile on her face.

Eddie finally let her into his van, her white sundress and summery sandals a stark contrast against his ripped jeans and chains. They were an odd couple if one only looked at their clothes, but it was so clear that they vibrated at the same frequency that Wayne couldn’t help but think that he should have expected this development sooner. He didn’t know why he’d chosen to believe them when they’d said nothing had happened between them the night of the party. His nephew went towards the driver’s seat when he called to him again.

“Ed, a word,” he was dead serious as Eddie jogged to where he was standing.

“Yeah?”

“You treat that girl right, okay?” Wayne said, voice low so she wouldn’t hear from the van. “I don’t wanna hear shit from her Dad about you bein’ stupid with her.”

“I know.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not gonna fuck this up, Wayne. I love her,” Eddie told him, so sure of what he was saying that it knocked the wind out of his Uncle’s lungs for a bit.

“Love, huh?” Wayne laughed softly, and Eddie shrugged with red ears but looked so very happy. “Go, have fun. And take care of her.”

“I will,” he nodded.

“I’m proud of you, son,” Wayne said, ruffling his hair roughly like when he was just a boy barely taller than his own hip. “And your Momma would be too.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, eyes full of unshed tears. “I’m proud of me too.”

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