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lightofthemoonglow · 1 year ago

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kinktober day seventeen

Threesome or moresome | Fisting | Vore

Buddy Swanson and Sam Wescott

dedicated to the amazing @bisexual-horror-fan

The head counselor. The head cook. The only nurse. The top three positions of authority at this camp. Kirk, Spock, McCoy, she calls them. Sam is their Kirk, being the actual leader that is the glue holding them all together, the balance between the other two. Buddy is their Spock, the pragmatic one that isn’t as expressive, but there’s so much heart to him underneath that exterior. And she’s the McCoy, the whirlwind with a big mouth and bigger emotions. They’re all passionate people though, the three of them somehow having found a way to make it work enough that people want to work with them, the kids want to come back. It’s easy, yet it feels like it takes over everything when they’re all together.

Of course there are rumors. There have been since the first day they had come together, forming the power trio. But only after the whispers had died down did they come true.

–-

“What are you two troublemakers up to?”

Sam ambles over to the lakebed, where a canoe is parked. Steve had asked someone, anyone, to finish testing out the lake gear after he had needed to rest his ankle after incurring an extremely minor injury involving a gopher hole. Lucky for him, Taylor the crafts counselor was helping him in these trying times.

It's the last day of setup before the kids arrive. In fourteen hours, they'll be here and their time will be consumed for the next couple of months. There will be very little personal time for a while.

"We are celebrating a perfect score on the safety inspection." She smiles up at Sam, languid and slow as she beckons him to join her and Buddy on the blanket laid out on the ground. It’s one they’ve laid on countless times, having been ruined by paint and glitter their first summer together. It’s strange how time has become divided between before and after they met. She’s on her back, knees bent as she looks up at the sky as Buddy sits normally, one knee bent and the other leg flat on the ground.

Sam joins them, sitting on her other side. It's a familiar layout, her in the middle. One of the photos on the homepage of the camp website is of the three of them, her arms around their backs as her head rests on Buddy's chest, though she's looking up at Sam, the camera catching her mid-giggle.

"Kids are due tomorrow. Gonna be the last time we have any privacy for weeks." Buddy sighs, gazes out at the water. He shifts around, his head going into her lap, a place he's familiar with. "And then it's back to the city." He's got a fancy restaurant gig lined up at the end of the summer. As it turned out, one of their returning campers had a father who owned this swanky place and constant talk about Buddy's meals had eventually gotten the guy to call him. After years of sticking it out at various places that weren't nearly as nice, it was good for him to have a win. But that would mean not seeing each other for a while, not until around wintertime.

"You make it sound like you're marching to your death." Sam tries to joke, but it is very clear how he feels about the gang splitting up. He moves to grab a bottle of water but pricks his finger on a burr. "Ow!"

"Poor baby. Want me to kiss it better?" She jokes, but it's not really a joke. The time is now, and they all know it. It's now or maybe never because so much could change in the next several months.

"Yeah. I do." Sam's voice is serious, he knows the implications, what it could lead to. But it's dark, the camp is quiet, it feels like they're the only people in the world right now.

Her mouth is soft, gentle against his. Buddy looks up at them, sort of but also not really trapped between their bodies. It's not for long, because Sam pulls back soon, his lips smeared with cotton candy lipsmackers. There's no going back now, it's like Eve biting the apple. The line is gone, all pretense is out the window. It's at the bottom of the lake, alongside the paddle Steve broke last summer.

"I think I…" Buddy can't even come up with a convincing lie, he knows what he wants and they know it too. She leans up, he leans up and he can taste both her and Sam on her mouth, bringing forth a soft moan and Buddy gripping a handful of her hair.

It's not going to be like in a bad porno. It's not a V, it's a triangle. Their first summer, as if to foreshadow what was to come, she had insisted that love triangle was a stupid phrase to refer to two people fighting over another. A triangle is complete, it's when everything flows together perfectly. Those situations are a love V because two points never meet. Buddy and Sam kiss like they've done it for eons, falling together as naturally as she had with them.

If they leave the blanket, the spell will be broken, so that's where they stay. It's where it all began, it is where it will come to the natural conclusion. It could have only ended this way.

She's between them once again, all of their shorts pushed down, her shirt pushed up as Sam's hands grope at her bare tits. No need for a bra in the summer, she'd said over and over again. Buddy's cock is rutting between her thighs as he spits into his hand to jerk Sam off. She's kissing the both of them as much as she can, they're kissing each other, it's a mess of drool and teeth. Sam's hand goes between her legs, searching for her clit.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," Buddy grunts, kissing her neck in between words. "Should I -?"

"No." She doesn't care, there's no risk. Nothing matters right now, and she encouraged him without uttering a word after her brief insistence that he come all over her thighs. The mess can always be cleaned up after all.

But it's Sam that comes first, shooting off all over her belly and Buddy's hand. She's so close and yet Buddy beats her to the punch, smearing her inner thighs and the blanket with his spend. Before she can even protest, a hand from each of them is between her legs and she's coming with a sharp cry that scares away a small flock of sleeping birds.

There's no awkward silence afterwards, merely some smiles and a suggestion that they clean off in the lake. It was always meant to end this way, after all and now all they need to do is wait for another moment like this to come around.

#sam wescott x reader #buddy swanson x reader #slasher x reader #slasher imagine #kinktober 2023

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ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds · 2 years ago

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10 and 49 for the fic asks? :3

Thank u Montana I love u Montana mwah 💜

Fic writer asks here

10. How do you decide what to write?

GOOD QUESTION. WISH I HAD AN ANSWER

I’m really not sure. I just kind of… go with whatever I’m in the mood for? Which isn’t the most effective way to go about things. My mood’s a fickle bitch.

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

One of (several) things I’ve been working on is a Buddy Swanson/Metal Killer x Reader piece. Here’s a snippet – content warnings for leashes and mild petplay:

“C’mon, Buddy,” you said sweetly, voice as obnoxiously cloying and honeyed as you could possibly make it. You leaned over and batted your eyelashes at him. A gentle tug on the leash had his gaze snapping up to yours. “How do you expect to get a treat when you’re misbehaving like this?”

#ace rambles #ace writes #ask game #friend montana <3

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tinalbion · 3 years ago

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Is there still time for request? I just watched trailer for Terrifier 2 and I'm hyped! This may sound strange but can I get Billy Loomis, Art the Clown and Buddy Swanson with contortionist s/o who can twist/move her body in most freakish ways, like she doesn't have bones in her body? (If you ever watched Australia/America Got Talent act from Troy James, imagine that's what s/o can do. That dude scared the shit out of me when I first watched it!)

Omg, I LOVE that guy! His performance was amazing and I love seeing just how people can move like that, it's so wild to me, so I hope you enjoy this request!

Rating: None

Length: 2k

Billy Loomis

Billy had no idea that you kept such an odd little talent to yourself, and he didn’t know for the longest time until several months into your relationship. You knew that people felt weirded out most times by your talent and you weren’t exactly out there wanting to flaunt it, only in certain circumstances would you show off to people. So tonight had been the night, though neither of you had expected it.

You and Billy were invited to Stu’s party, along with several of your other friends, who knew of your little secret and loved to have you do it when the group was drunk enough. It was a fun little gag and you loved acting as if they were so drunk that they had no idea what they were talking about. Harmless fun. So you and Billy arrived, his arm around your waist as you walked along through the crowds of people and you grabbed a beer, Billy grabbed one, and then you were both off to find a place to sit. Your friend Will greeted you enthusiastically and eyed you with a grin

"Will, don't you dare," you warned as you pointed a finger at him. Billy didn't question it but he was definitely curious. He leaned over toward you and whispered in your ear: "and what are we warning Will not to do, babe?" You wanted to tell him considering he wasn't one to get weirded out or uncomfortable, but you wanted to see his reaction, completely caught off guard as intended.

You shrug with a smile and sip at your beer, then you kiss his cheek and pull away. "You'll see in a bit, promise." He was content with that and continued to enjoy himself although he continued to eye you every so often as the night went on. More drinks were had, games were played, and beer pong proved to be not so fun. You lost, you NEVER lost. So when you finally admitted defeat, Randy turned to you and elbowed Will to get his attention.

“Guess you already know what we’re gonna request for you taking this loss.” You sighed and shook your head, yet the large smile on your face spoke volumes. Billy watched you intently as the crowd of partygoers gathered around your table and kept enough space around you, Randy gathered everyone around as he waved his hands out toward you. “Come on, let’s see what you can do!”

And just like a flip of a switch, you bent backward with ease and then you twisted your body where your hands were planted firmly on the ground as your spine contorted in ways these people never thought possible. There you were walking around as easy as ever and yet your body was twisted at the waist, and you looked like a horrible mangled creature running around on all fours. Some people reacted as you expected, some clapped and cheered for how absolutely fucked up you looked, and then there was Billy, who looked to be in a state between shock and intrigued.

After you finished your little display, you untwisted and stood back to your feet, then grabbed your beer bottle from Randy and sat back in your spot next to Billy. He just stared at you as you sipped at your beer and you scoffed. “What?” He only let out a laugh and shook his head. “You surprise me more and more every day. But uh, would you be opposed if I asked you to try something with me later on?”

You just sighed and shook your head with a grin. “Shut up, Billy.”

Art the Clown

Art had his own little secrets that you never really questioned him about and you guys got along just fine that way, so naturally, there were things about yourself that you hadn’t shared with him yet either. You guys were still learning how to communicate properly and it proved to be challenging, but sometimes you would learn something and you grew excited to get to know Art a bit more. So of course, here you were, seeing him yet again for the umpteenth time this week and you had ever wondered how he exactly felt being around you. You guessed he didn’t mind it since you were still alive and he always seemed to like to make you laugh.

As you continued to make it a routine to show up on a chosen day, you offered him the chance to hang out at your place, so he took you up on that offer, though he didn’t mention that he’d just show up out of the blue one evening with his bag draped over his shoulder, the tiny rocks he threw at your window to get your attention almost made you laugh if you weren’t scared to death at first.

“Jeez Art, you scared me!” You huffed, but you gestured for him to walk around to the front door. It was still early in the evening but you were curious as to why he’d avoid the front door at first, but it didn’t bother you. You offered him something to eat, he said no, then you offered a drink and he accepted water and sat somewhat awkwardly on your sofa. He seemed very out of place when it came to being here, but he did bounce up and down on the sofa a bit. Had a bit of bounce, he liked it. He never really got to be in places this cozy, so you told him he was more than welcome to make himself at home, except maybe he should not cause too much of a mess. He agreed with a devilish smile.

So Art made himself at home and began to walk around the place, allowing himself to check out the various photos and awards you had hung on your walls. He inspected each one and looked on and on as you watched from the doorway. His attention was now caught as he stopped at one award that stuck out more than the others. He leaned in close and saw the gleam of the award with your name engraved on it. It wasn’t your typical award either, but he turned to look at you and pointed to it.

“Oh, that? Yeah, I have sort of a neat thing I can do, I participated in an event and won. Wanna see what I can do?” You caught his attention as he eyed you curiously, and that’s when you placed your hands behind your head as you bent backward and began to move and twist in ways Art couldn’t even begin to comprehend. His jaw dropped and he stared at you as you twisted and moved in such inhuman ways that he was even too stunned to sign, he just stood there in your small living area and didn't move for about two minutes.

After you finished and stood back as normal as could be, Art began to throw his hands wildly and acted surprised as you laughed at his reaction. He was impressed and loved how insane it looked, he figured he could use you when scaring the folks in town during Halloween, or just for the hell of it. It was almost as if you could read his mind and tumbled out with: "I already know you're planning to use this in some way to mess with people, aren't you?" He faked shock, looked around the room, and gestured as if to say: "who, me? I'd NEVER." All you could do was laugh in response.

Buddy Swanson

It was no coincidence that you ended up working behind the scenes at the camp you attended, though you were sent there mainly because it was better than rotting away at home for that summer, so you accepted your fate and went along with it. They needed counselors desperately and since you had experience with kids, it was better than nothing. You approached Roger and had heard about this prestigious camp, though that was a term used rather loosely, and he hired you on the spot.

That's how you got to know Buddy Swanson, number one anti musical man, natural born cook, and an absolute cutie. He was hard not to fall for, but you kept a distance from him for a while until it smacked you in the face. The end of that summer, you both kept in contact and even discovered you both weren't that far away from one another. It started off like a whirlwind romance and you were swept up in it, enjoying whatever turn it took and you both just lived in the moment. It was hard not to do when you were in his company, he made you forget everything that weighed you down, everything that stressed you out. It was only you and him. Which led to you two camping at one point, a real camping experience with a tent and a bonfire, the works.

You both were sharing a couple of drinks when Buddy suggested a game of 'Never Have I Ever', and boy did you regret it. He drank so many times that you were almost willing to lie just to feel a buzz. He laughed at your feeble attempt too, he knew your tell when your eyes shifted away for a moment. "No, I saw that, get that drink away from your lips this instant!" He chucked. You let out a sigh and hung your head low.

"Well what do you want me to do?! I lived a sheltered life, not everyone gets that lucky, you know," you huffed as you gently chucked a small pebble at his shoe. So Buddy thought long and hard of something he figured you would have done, so he leaned back as he kicked a stick from under his boot. "Okay fine," he began, "how about… never have I ever pulled a prank on someone." You threw a hand up and groaned: "FINALLY!" Then you took a long swig and sighed in content. Buddy looked at you expectantly, wriggling an eyebrow. "So? You gonna share the story or what? I mean, you finally got one, hope it's a good story for you to share."

And you did. You went into detail how you had a sleepover when you were about thirteen, you were all sitting in the dark with flashlights held up to your faces, all attempting to scare each other. You rolled your eyes and said you were gonna go and get a drink, so they continued with their storytelling, and what the others didn't know was that you snuck around the hall and waited for them to think you were downstairs, then the floor creaked, they called out to you with no response. So all of a sudden, you scurried into the room on all fours, your body twisted as if you were mangled, and everyone screamed bloody murder. You laughed as you twisted back to normal and your best friend at the time laughed almost as hysterically as you did. "I had a feeling you were gonna do that," your friend remarked, to which one of them replied; "you knew they could do that?!" Safe to say, those kids had nightmares for a few days, and you loved every minute of it.

Naturally, Buddy was insanely curious. "Come on, babe," he said sweetly, "you gotta show me after THAT story!" So you got to your feet and found a decent area where the ground wasn't too uneven and there weren't a lot of ways to injure yourself, and you bent over so gracefully, your limbs moved as if you had no bones, and your torso twisted so easily that you thought Buddy's eyes would pop out of his head. "Damn, Y/N, that's incredible. If I would have known you could do that, I would have worked with you to scare the shit out of the theater kids." You laughed as you got back to your feet and sat down beside him again. "Guess we gotta come up with a plan for next year."

#tinalbion writings #slasher requests #slashers x reader #slasher headcanons #slasher imagines #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis imagines #billy loomis headcanons #art the clown #art the clown x reader #art the clown imagines #art the clown headcanons #buddy swanson #buddy swanson x reader #buddy swanson imagine #buddy swanson headcanons #anon request

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f1nalboys · 3 years ago

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AHHHHH! HEY B! So, so, SO happy to see your requests are open again! I cannot believe you are gonna start writing for Buddy Swanson and Sam Wescott, it seems too fucking good to be true! I adore your stuff and adore those boys so this is gonna be an amazing combo holy shit.

Let's get into it. Poly!Camping boys! But let's get into some early poly shit with them, like the reader is a hinge, is seeing both, both are aware of each other but aren't involved with one and other yet, both sharing the reader solo. However, the two of them are just a bit jealous of the other. Both get into the bad habit of trying to outdo eachother physically. Sam eats you out so well you squirt and nearly pass out and Buddy get's wind of it? I guess that means Buddy is just gonna have to fuck you so good that you cry.

In short. Jealousy. Possessivness. Multiple Orgasms. Body Worship. Spoiling The Actual Fuck Outta The Reader. (Also fem reader if you don't mind I fucking love you thank you so much byeeeee)

Oh boy, Bex! This is a long one, like,,, really long, I just couldn't help myself!!! I loved this request so much, jealous Sam and Buddy makes my little heart pitter patter. I hope this lives up to all your expectations and more!!

WORD COUNT: 3027 (told yooooouuuuu)

WARNINGS: nsfw, fem!afab!reader, oral (amab and afab recieving), threesome, pre poly!camping boys, squirting, slight degradation and praise, jealousy, edging, sam gets taken care of <3, implication of more sex, not proofread and im sure theres more things im forgetting to add so my apologies

Sam knew what he had agreed to. You told him that there was another guy, one you had feelings for and one you weren’t willing to NOT be with. You told him that you liked him, really liked him, and that you didn’t want to put him in an uncomfortable situation with that, so if he wanted out that’s all he had to say. But he didn’t want out. Being with you was different then the others he had been with. So he figured that he could get over the lingering feelings of jealousy and anxiety and stick with it for you.

And then you had mentioned him. A passing comment, one he had asked for, but it still gave him a sense of…betrayal. He had asked how your day had been knowing you had seen him, some guy named Buddy, and you had answered. “Good. Y’know, he and I actually tried something earlier and god it felt good. Apparently he has a ‘natural talent’ for it. Think you’d be up for a little experimentation?”

Sam knew you didn’t mean anything by it, but hearing about how someone else made you feel good gave him his first real sense of jealousy. Now, Sam didn’t consider himself jealous or possessive in any way, but even he would admit that the sex that night had been different. He had been rougher with you, really taking his time on fucking you silly, and had made you cum five times before he even took his dick out. And when he finished, all he could think about was what that asshole’s face would look like when he heard about him.

And oh was Buddy’s face funny. The smile had faltered instantly and his lips thinned out the more you talked about Sam. It wasn’t until he grabbed you by the neck and pulled you in for a kiss that you realized just how annoyed he had gotten. That night was one of the most mind-blowing and exhausting nights the two of you had shared. Buddy was whispering filth in your ear the entire time, your back against his chest as he fucked you from behind, his finger circling your clit quickly. He wanted you to forget all about the other guy.

“Can he fuck you like this? Hm? Can he get you so fucking cock drunk you can’t think straight?” His voice is hot against your skin and he wasn’t going to let up any time soon, fucking you until you only knew his name, until your legs were weak and shaking from the sheer pleasure.

That’s when you realized what was happening. Everytime you brought up the other, the one you were with would get jealous and give you the best sex of your life as a way to one-up the other. It was a cycle, a beautiful, pleasurable, intense cycle that you never wanted to stop.

This went on for months. You’d spend the weekend with Buddy and when you went out with Sam you’d ‘casually’ bring up the fact you had squirted for the first time ever, or that Buddy had fucked you on his apartment balcony as the sunset, and Sam would have to find a way to go above and beyond that. And he always did.

Your favorite moment with Sam was after you had mentioned a kink Buddy had. Sam’s eyes darkened as you talked about the feeling of the saw blade pressed against your flesh as he fucked into you, how the thin scratches on your inner thighs were from the brittle blade, how you had cum so hard when he finally sank inside you and the saw dug into the flesh of your neck just enough to draw a few droplets of blood.

Sam was normally a slow and sensual lover, focused solely on your pleasure, on being submissive and letting you do whatever it was you wanted. After hearing that story and seeing the way you had begun to rub your thighs together at the mere mention of it, he knew he needed to change his tune. That night Sam tied you to the bed and fucked you for hours.

He ate you out until your words were slurred, only stopping to shove his cock down your throat roughly. Sam loved face fucking you on the rare occassions he got into it the mood for it. Feeling your throat constrict around him, the vibrations your gags and moans felt on his cock were delicious, and the feeling of control he had over you in that moment made it all the more better.

After he fucked you and filled you to the brim with his cum he untied you, massaging your wrists and ankles and peppering kisses along your skin. He drew you a bath and made you dinner, laid in bed with you with his arm around your waist. That morning you woke up to his head in between your legs, his tongue moving through your folds and his fingers pumping into you.

You brought the idea of a threesome up to Buddy first. He was giving you a much needed massage and the second you asked his fingers stopped gliding over your back. “What?” He didn't seem angry, more confused than anything. “You wanna show me a picture of the guy first?” Buddy was hoping to see a guy who was, all things considered, ugly, but that’s not what he got. Sam was hot. “Oh. Okay, I mean yeah, if you’re into it, we can.”

Sam was hesitant. When he saw a photo of Buddy he was hit by a wave of insecurity; Why would you be with him when you had Buddy? A long night of love making helped ease those worries, and soon enough the night of the threesome was upon you. You were at Buddy’s apartment waiting for Sam, your nerves only quelled by the glass of wine you had.

“Nervous or something, babe?” Buddy teased as though his stomach wasn’t in knots at the moment. There was a knock at the door before you could give him a snarky response and you jumped up from the couch and practically ran to the door.

“Sam! Come in,” You said with a smile as you opened the door. Sam gives you an anxious smile, stepping into the living room and looking around, trying hard to avoid Buddy's eyes. You wrap an arm around his waist and walk him over to the couch, giving Buddy a glare that has him standing up immediately. “Sam, this is Buddy Swanson. Buddy, this is Sam Wescott.”

They say hello to each other and the room falls quiet, awkwardness swirling around your head. “Can’t believe I finally get to meet the other man,” Buddy says in an attempt to lighten the mood and thankfully Sam laughs. The nervousness of all parties dissipates immediately as you all settle onto the couch, talking and letting the two of them get to know each other.

Your hand settles onto Sam’s thigh, your head resting against Buddy’s shoulder, and he gives you a quick smile before returning back to his conversation with Sam. They were getting along, at least, so that was something to celebrate. Sam stumbles over his words as your hand creeps higher up his thigh, ghosting over his clothed erection.

“Guess she wants to get to the main course, huh, Sam?” Buddy teases, wrapping his arms around you and moving his legs so you rest in between them. You hum in response, grinning at the blush spreading across Sam’s face and neck. Buddy's fingers dip under your shirt, his fingertips brushing over skin. “Not polite to keep a lady waiting, Sammy.”

The pet name is accompanied by an eyebrow raise and Sam shifts in his seat, brushing your hand off of his lap. Sam scoffs slightly before he leans in and kisses you, his hands dragging up and down your thighs. You sigh into the kiss, sandwiched in between the two hottest guys you’ve ever met in your life and it was perfect. “It sure isn’t, Bud.”

Sam can’t help but pull back and grin up at Buddy. You can feel the rumble of his laugh underneath you at the nickname and then Sam is back on you again, kissing you harder while Buddy litters kisses over your neck. He nips at your pulse and you moan into Sam’s lips, your hips grinding up subconsciously.

“Prettiest sound ever, dontcha agree?” Buddy asks Sam who hums, pulling away from you and unbuttoning your jeans. You lift your hips as he pulls them down, allowing him to remove them from you completely. Sam settles in between your legs, kissing down your still clothed chest down to your thighs, staring at you through his eyelashes as he licks a slow stripe up your slit. It was a good choice on your part to forgo underwear.

You whimper at the feeling of his tongue and both he and Buddy laugh at you. “Pretty sounds for a pretty girl,” Sam says with a wink and you can barely contain your groan at the lame joke. “But god, her pussy? The taste and smell and look of it, man, I can’t get enough of it. Could be here down all day,”

He delves into your cunt before you can say anything, pulling a particularly loud moan from you that has Buddy’s grip on your waist tightening. Something the two men could agree on was that the noises you made were fucking heavenly. Sam swirls his tongue around your clit, sucking and biting down on it gently. Flattening his tongue, he flicks it up and down your entire slit a few times before pushing the tip past your hole, his nose bumping against your clit.

Sam was a natural at eating pussy and Buddy couldn’t help but be impressed. “You like this, Y/N? Like getting your pussy eaten out while you got another guy watching?” He whispers into your ear, his hands traveling further up your shirt, pinching and tugging at your nipples as he nibbles at your earlobe. Your fingers tangle into Sam's hair and you pull roughly, shoving his face further into your cunt. Buddy laughs. “Oh, you really do. Kind of slutty, don’t you think?”

“You taste so fuckin’ sweet. You’re so beautiful,” Sam says, pulling away from you long enough to give you a smile before diving back in. The two go back and forth, your head filling with praise and degradation until it’s swimming.

“M’so close!” You cry out and Sam grips your thighs tightly, holding you in place as his tongue speeds up. You cum hard, your eyes screwed shut, Buddy’s assault on your chest never letting up. A gush of liquid comes out, covering Sam’s face completely and when he pulls back he has a large, cocky grin on his face.

He uses his middle finger and pushes it inside you slowly, pumping in and out at an almost unbearably slow pace. Your body, still coming down from it’s high, is still twitching every so often. “Did you know I was the first one to get her to squirt?” Sam questions, his eyes flicking from your blissed out face to Buddy's. Buddy nods slowly and you can feel his erection pressing against your back.

“Can the two of you fuck me already?” You ask earnestly, earning a laugh from the two men. You sit up, taking your shirt off and tossing it over to where your pants lay. Buddy and Sam both move off of the couch, tugging off their pants and shirts, leaving their boxers on for the time being. Buddy goes to touch you again but you back away and his eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

“What’s wrong, hon?”

“Yeah, s’everything alright?” Sam asks, his voice dripping with worry.

You grin, sitting up and kissing the two men quickly. “I want you two to touch each other first.” There's a pause before they begin to talk over each other, questioning you in a panic. “Oh my god, zip it, please!” You huff and they fall silent. Buddy had been with men before, plenty of them actually, but he didn’t know Sam. And Sam, on the other hand, hadn’t. A couple one night stands but he was not as experienced with this sort of thing as Buddy was and you could tell he was nervous.

You grab ahold of Sam’s hand and pull him to sit down on the couch beside you. “Sam, baby, don’t worry, alright? Buddy and I got you.” You look over at Buddy who flashes you a look of understanding before settling down on his other side. Sam nods slowly, swallowing hard, and Buddy slowly places his hand on his bare thigh. “Gonna make you feel good, aren’t we baby?”

“Sure are. Can I kiss you, Sam?” Buddy asks gently. He didn’t want to go too fast, didn’t want to make the other man uncomfortable, especially because he was beginning to really like him. He liked how he worked with him on making you feel good, how he was funny and able to crack a joke in between eating you out. Liked how cute he was, how soft he was around the edges and how he looked like he was just begging to be broken in.

Sam surprises the both of you by leaning in first, capturing Buddy’s lips quickly. His heart was racing and Buddy can feel it the second he puts his hand on Sam’s chest. He was toned more than Buddy had expected, his skin tan and freckled from his time at camp. Buddy swipes his tongue over Sam’s bottom lip, taking it slow, but Sam opens his mouth eagerly.

The longer he kissed him, the more Sam wanted him. Buddy can taste you on Sam’s lips and he deepens it, pulling a small whimper from the other man and Buddy wants to hear more. His hand falls from Sam’s chest down to his crotch, chuckling at the gasp Sam lets out as Buddy fishes his cock out.

“This alright?”

“Y-yes, fuck. More than alright,” Sam says breathlessly, his head falling back as Buddy begins to stroke him. He opens his eyes slightly, head tilting towards you and nearly cumming at the sight. You were leaned back against the arm of the couch, hand in between your spread legs, soft gasps and moans leaving your lips as you watched them. “God, your hand…”

Buddy sinks to his knees in front of Sam and slowly licks over his slit. Sam moans loudly, hands gripping the couch cushions tightly as Buddy takes his tip into his mouth. It was warm and wet and Buddy was using his tongue in a way that had Sam seeing stars. “Wa-wait, stop.” Buddy stops immediately, pulling away and looking up at Sam with worry. Even you had paused your movements, fingers inside yourself to the third knuckle. “I don’t wanna cum yet and if you kept that up I would’ve.”

“Damn, I’m that good at sucking cock?” Buddy says with a light tone and Sam blushes, rolling his eyes. “Hear that, Y/N! You got competition.”

“Oh my god, you’re so lame. You guys ready to go into the bedroom?”

Sam and Buddy stand, peeling their underwear off and grabbing ahold of you, trapping you in between them as they walk you to the bedroom. Kisses and wandering hands, you get to the bed breathlessly. “Wanna touch you, too,” Sam gasps into Buddy’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. He sounded so needy.

“Go ahead, then. Show me what you got.” Buddy says, sitting down onto the bed. You sit behind him, kissing at his neck and running your hands up and down his chest as Sam settles in between his legs. Buddy watches with arousal as Sam spits into his palm before tentatively wrapping his hand around his cock. His strokes are slow and deliberate and he watches Buddy’s reactions, repeating the motions that have him grunting under his breath and flexing his hips.

You nip at Buddy’s pulse. “You like him jerking you off in front of me?” You ask teasingly and Buddy’s face gets red as he nods. This helped fuel his voyeurism kink to its fullest extent. “Take him in your mouth, Sam. I wanna watch you suck him off while he eats me out.”

Sam smiles as you push Buddy back onto his back, swinging your leg over his head and sitting on his face. Your hands go to your chest as Buddy begins to tongue fuck you, his hands coming to grip your hips to hold you in place. His hips buck up and he groans loudly, muffled only by your cunt, as Sam takes him into his mouth. He repeats what Buddy had done to him earlier, swirling his tongue around the tip and flattening his tongue on the underside of his shaft.

For the next few minutes you do this, Sam sucking and gagging on Buddy’s cock while you grind down onto his tongue, chasing your own high. “So close, Buddy. Please don’t stop, fuck!” You whimper and Buddy’s tongue speeds up, bringing you to your release. You tug on his hair as you cum, crying out his name. It’s only when your body stops jolting with each flick of his tongue that you swing off of him.

“Sam, stop, m’close. Wanna cum in you.” Buddy says with a moan and Sam comes off of him immediately. His face was flushed, spit and the remnants of your squirt on the lower half of him. “If that’s alright, of course.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

The two of them smile at each other and you let out a small ‘awwww.’ “My two guys are getting along!” Buddy groans and tickles you, Sam joining in and holding you still as Buddy’s fingers attack your sides. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry!” They stop and for a second the three of you stay there and relish the silence. It was comfortable. “Alright. How about we actually fuck now?”

With a smile Sam leans in and kisses you. “Let’s do it.”

#some filthy filthy smut for you #buddy swanson #sam wescott #poly!camping boys #sam wescott x reader #buddy swanson x reader #sam wescott x reader x buddy swanson #you might be the killer #stage fright 2014 #slashers #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n #slasher headcanons #slasher imagine #slasher oneshot #slasher imagines #f1nalboys masterlist #f1nalboys writing #f1nalboys works

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applesontheground · 2 years ago

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fine-tuned & over easy 🎸

i have finally written for mr. buddy swanson -- aka the 🤘 METAL KILLER 🤘 . this has been a long time coming, and rewatching Stage Fright with the pals this last week just solidified my brainworms. enjoy! <3

NSFW | Word Count: 2,822 | Buddy Swanson x GN Reader

contains heavy PDA, guitarist!reader, enough snark and metal references to kill a rhino

This wasn’t your average sleepaway camp.

You knew that going in, but it still didn’t prepare you for the sheer amount of singing you were hearing within the first few days.

You didn’t hate it, a music fiend yourself, but it was very odd to be greeted to the harmonizing teenagers before you could even finish tying your apron behind your back, preparing for a long breakfast shift in the camp kitchen. You peered out the window, scratching a stray piece of sleep from the corner of your eye. It certainly wasn’t your style, but you could survive the saccharine nature of the upbeat lyrics. After all, some of those kids were, well, kids.

Despite the understanding, you still had to complain while the mess hall was desolate, “Do they always start so early? Just, up and at ‘em?” Setting a pan on the stove, the sole company in the room sighed, “Oh man. I’ll tell you right now that it’s only 7AM, and once everyone’s awake…” He paused, turning to you with tired eyes and a scoff, “It gets so much worse.”

Buddy Swanson was his name, an almost mousy look to him with modest dress and brown curls kept at a length short enough to maintain without becoming a hazard in the kitchen. He had mentioned to you he maintained a specific length solely for that reason. Won’t catch me in a hairnet. His personality was anything but unassuming; the sarcasm palpable, getting you to become nothing but amused chuckles whenever he dared open his mouth.

“Please tell me they leave it outside. It echoes so bad in here.” You then grumbled, looking up to the rafters with a shake of your head. Buddy merely laughed, “Aw, [Y/N], you really are new here.” To which you asked him, “Hey. McCall said you needed the help, right?”

He huffed before turning away. “Yeah, I guess. Can you get started on either the eggs or the sausage?” Losing your attitude, you threw a towel over your shoulder and chirped, “On it.”

You and Buddy didn’t make a bad team in the kitchen. Even if there were these moments of mutual complaining, the aforementioned snark aimed straight for each other’s throats, both of you had enough drive to get through it. In small confines, loud environments as is, it was hard not to be reminded of what needed to be done. If anything, there was an emerging solidarity from being two people who just didn’t care for the theatre despite working at a theatre camp.

Although, something began to talk to you about Buddy, and it was saying that he may know a little more about the world of song than he wanted to let on to anyone who gave him the second look. He could sit on a high horse for now, but while he was chopping an onion, you caught him doing a fairly steady rhythm; it was something that wasn’t falling in line to a simple four-beat that everyone knew how to do, necessarily, but it was a little more complicated. It was as though there was a tie in his mind on two notes that he was keeping in time with.

1 +a 2, 3 +a 4, 1 +a 2, 3 +a 4.

You could keep up with it because you were a bit inclined yourself. Again, not in a ‘prance around the fields belting out like a rooster’ way, but more of a…’maestro whose only audience were the two pillows on your camp bed’ way. Your acoustic guitar stayed in the safety of your quarters. The space looked more like a broom closet than a bedroom, but then again, that’s what came with being a last-second hire to cover when Buddy’s sister was unable to. He had given you the low-down that she was “falling in line with the theatre freaks”, and you couldn’t quite place if he said it because he detested her for that or if he just didn’t like being without her. You didn’t consider yourself the prime replacement, but again… you got the job done and heard him out without dismissing him. That was all he could ask from you.

The two of you maybe had an hour of comfortable silence before the doors were unlocked, and you watched the fanfare file in. It echoed just as jarringly as you anticipated, stifled laughs from your cohort as you stood there for a moment with a look of utter contempt on your face before focusing back on a pan of biscuits you were sliding onto the cooling rack. Of course, he ushered you to man the counter, meeting the first bright shiny faces with a tired but willing “Morning, what kind of eggs do you want? Bacon or sausage?” The phrases and the questions were practically echoing in your skull by the forty-five minute mark.

Still, there were moments you could pause in your own theatrical performance, look at Buddy with an honest grimace or a quiet comment that would never leave a comfortable place behind the counter. He slugged you lightly at one point, eyes catching something beyond the kitchen. “[Y/N], how about you take this one? Real showstopper.” He asked, turning away as a dark-haired kid with a trilby approached you.

“The usual,” He beamed, snapping at you in an attempt to be charismatic. Suppressing a full-body cringe, you replied in a short voice, “Everyone gets the same thing, sir. How do you like your eggs?”

He stammered, your stare making him look like he was five seconds away from throwing himself out of the nearest window. “Oh, uh- I’ll take them scrambled. Thanks.”

Watching him walk off after handing him his tray, seeming as though he was reviewing mental notes on why the interaction didn’t go to script, Buddy merely observed with an impressed smile bit back. “Again, early in the morning and they’ve got stupid hats on, too?” You whispered, and he let himself laugh, throwing you a towel to get a spill on the counter. Without missing a beat, you fixed your eyes on it just to distract yourself.

“Wait until you find out who’s the Stage Director.”

You looked at Buddy first. Then gave a glance to the boy in the trilby.

“Oh, you’re fucking with me, right?”

“Feels good after sweating your ass off in the hurt locker, right?” Buddy asked as the two of you stepped out onto the camp’s dock. You quickly made for the edge, hanging your legs off and rolling your jeans up to the knees so you could submerge your aching feet, cool down after standing in front of ovens and frying pans since dawn. He joined you, crisscross when he sat beside you. “You’re keeping up pretty nicely, [Y/N]. Maybe you aren’t just some stray they picked up.”

You scoffed at that, and muttered, “I told you; I have experience. Most kitchens are pretty hectic, and I’ve had my share, even if this was a split moment decision.” You gently knocked your knuckle against his arm, the slugging turning into its own language between the two of you, and pointed out, “Just so you know, I’m not the only one who got hired last minute.”

Buddy cocked his head, a breeze coming off the lake and up from under the dock making his hair flutter slightly, “No?”

“Nah. Some other guy is being brought in next week to teach the kids about…I don’t know, paper mâché crafts for the stage, something like that.” A hand flew up over your head in a clueless shrug to the wind, “He’s got some artistic merit, and apparently we need a guy for that.”

He was the one to huff now, “Great. More clowns for the circus.” You sat a little straighter and gawked, “Oh, what? First, I’m a stray, now a clown? I was hoping I’d at least be, like, an acrobat or lion tamer.”

Buddy paused, then asked, “Well, who’d be the lion?” When you were silent, staring at him expectantly, he turned to meet your gaze.

“Come on, [Y/N].”

“You went there, not me.”

“Stop it.”

“Meow.”

“I said stop.” Despite raising his voice mildly, both of you were laughing, and you weren’t in the slightest bit scared when he gently shoved you. You tipped your chin up to face the high noon sun, taking in another deep breath and enjoying the mid-summer air that was perfectly cooled by a close body of water. Out here, you couldn’t even hear the current classes back at the camp, a more than welcome reprieve.

In his lingering stare, watching you soak in the sunlight, Buddy noticed your necklace. “Since when did you wear guitar picks?” Your attention spun down from the sky, seeing his focus on your collarbone. On top of your shirt, the plastic was fastened to your neck by a thin silver chain. It was just a statement, but also a way for you to wear your hobby quite literally on your sleeve. You hummed an affirmation and replied, “What about it?”

“Do you just think it looks cool, or do you actually play?”

That same curiosity you had felt hearing his knife work made you answer his question with one of your own, the corners of your lips quirking.

“Do you?” He brought his eyes back up to you, and already kicked himself when he realized the way interest piqued on your face was downright contagious.

Oh, he was good.

Good with his pace, his rhythm, his…his fingers. Years of practice, the skill embedded in the muscle memory, and further shown in the way he moved up and down the fretboard. You let yourself unapologetically stare, the excuse that you admired a skilled musician ready to go should he catch you. He had offered to bring his own guitar, but you said he could see yours without a second thought. Someone besides the two pillows deserved to know about it, and if there was a soul at the camp who you’d think to give the exception to…it was him.

“Sorry if the D-string’s sharp, likes to go up when I’m not looking.” You joked, and Buddy replied, “Sounds fine to me.” He paused in his quick work, and one thing you had caught in his warm up work was that he was playing something far more accustomed to an electric rather than your acoustic. Like he had read your mind, he then admitted as he put his hand on the body of the instrument, “Not my favorite thing to go acoustic while I’m out here.”

You were once again curious, beaming, “An electric guy, huh?” Buddy scoffed, “I guess you could call me that. I’d even adopt the term metalhead.” You hummed in thought and replied, “If you didn’t wear the plain clothes all the time, I’d say it fits you.”

Buddy rolled his eyes and asked, “What does a metalhead look like, [Y/N]? Just because I don’t show up-“ He reached over and used a finger to flick the pick still sitting around your neck, “Wearing spikes and shit, it doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it.” You eased him with an assuring nod, hand giving an assuring pat to his knee as you murmured, “Hey, I’m not trying to kill you over details. I like metalheads. Far preferred over the theatre singing.”

Standing from the bed, you knew he was staring at your back – hard. Maybe it was the weird gesture you just did, and panic set in as you tried to divert and asked him with eyes on your door, “So, do you want-“

He let the same hand that had messed with your necklace now come around one side of your hip, and he asked, “What do you mean by that?” Looking at the movement, trying to fathom that was really him touching you, you stuttered, “I…I-I didn’t mean anything bad by it, just…” You didn’t know your cool could be lost this quickly and turned to look back at him.

He smirked to the sound of your voice tumbling from its own high ground. He knew he was shooting down the other voice in the kitchen that always had something smart to say, and it only felt better to see you didn’t totally retreat, and even start to stammer harder as your heels dug in, rather your hand went over to feel his on your side, “Look, I just mean that-that I’d rather rock out to some…some of the basic stuff, even: like the Metallica and the-“

He scoffed, “Oh, I’ve got a taste for hair metal, actually. Motley Crue, Quiet Riot…” He guided you back to face him with the other hand on the opposite hip, helping you carefully ease back down to the bed and start to straddle him, your eyes flickering for a split second to make sure you weren’t directly in his lap as he went on, “Twisted Sister, all that old shit are my personal favorites.” He shrugged, eyes trailing back down your chest as he became a bit lost in the thought, “Even the Priest, Halford’s voice is undeniable.”

“Oh, absolutely.” You agreed, breathless and completely distracted despite trying to convince him this was still about the music.

He gave you one look, chin tipped up to yours in a silent question. You replied by resting your palms on his shoulders, easing down against his abdomen slightly and then staying still. “Your move, metal messiah.” You dared breathe out, and that was all he needed to hear before his teeth found a home near your neck. He didn’t give you the time to even laugh at your own quip, a grin on your face from both the joke and the sensations sparking over your body.

“Felt that,” He murmured as his hands then ran past your shirt, pulling it down your shoulders to peek at the goosebumps for himself. You looked away, fine with him seeing your exposed skin but not sure how five minutes ago you were still giving him a hard time and now here you were, getting shirtless in a shimmy of your shoulders.

Your hands fell to the back of your neck, feeling for the clasp. Buddy’s fingers trailed up, scrambling to catch your wrist and push your palm down to stop you. “Leave it,” He insisted, and your hands fell away again, the pick tapping your bare chest as you adjusted to push up against him and press an honest, almost frustrated kiss to his lips. The kind that wished it would bite him, but was too shaken to actually do it. A fluid motion, he tipped his head up to lean into it, a hand flying to grab you by the base of where your hair grew against the back of your skull.

Hearing a grunt deep in his throat made you realize you weren’t the only one who was a little pent up.

You had to get into a new pair of clothes after the playing session. Not necessarily because they had gotten ruined, but you needed to present yourself as the person who didn’t just make out to an audience of your two-pillow crowd.

The opening act was a pleasant surprise, walking into the kitchen to see Buddy had already made his way in there, and was speaking with Camilla, his sister.

“There you are, [Y/N].” She tilted her head and asked, “Why’s lunch running late?”

You looked up at her, and without a second more spent scrambling to think of a lie, you answered, “Uh, I…I fell in the lake this morning. Had to go change my clothes before coming back, put Buddy behind.” Her mouth fell open, then the giggles began as Buddy stared hard at the back of your head. You played along, “Yeah, it’s my bad. I was being an idiot, so if Mr. McCall asks, it was me.”

She caught her breath, and eased, “Aw, everyone makes mistakes.” Buddy waggled his eyebrows at that, turning to look at her, “I’ll just tell him the locks on the kitchen doors got jammed. It’s fine, he’s got bigger problems with opening night coming up, all that.” You nodded, watching her give one last gesture of leave to her brother and then walking out of the kitchen.

“Didn’t tell me you were a better actor than half the freaks here.” Buddy teased, and you just gave him a sharp glance, but found it was getting harder to be rude when those jagged eyes were on you now.

You merely shrugged and hummed, “I have my talents.”

He shook his head, and with a passing glance to make sure no one was by the openings to the room, he pulled his shirt down slightly. The ident of a guitar-pick shaped mark on his chest made you nearly fumble your apron as you once again tied it around your waist.

“You sure do, [Y/N].”

#buddy swanson x reader #metal killer x reader #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #notsfw #✏️#🎸

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bisexual-horror-fan · 5 months ago

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Tentatively Tending To Trauma. Poly!Camping Boys X FEM! AFAB! Reader. Chapter Two. "Fixing It Up."

Hello! So! I know, over a year since I posted the first chapter of this, been working chapter two on and off ever since, hopefully I can get back into a better schedule with this, but I make no promises with how my life has been lately. Regardless, I hope everyone is as excited as I am! I missed Buddy and Sam, and this fic is important to me and deserves some attention. I promise it won't be another year before chapter three, at least! Chapter one is back here if you need a refresher.

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Rating. SFW, for now. Length. 5.7K. Eventual Sam Wescott/Buddy Swanson X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Movie Spoilers. Set After Stage Fright AND You Might Be The Killer. Still Very Light So Far. Mild Alcohol Consumption. Building Of Friendships.

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Your first night sleeping at camp went surprisingly well, a lot of the time you had trouble sleeping in new places, but you think the drive and overall excitement wore you out so much that you became practically comatose once your head hit the pillow. You wake up in the cabin alone, you take some time to lay in bed, enjoying the time to yourself. When the kids get here, sleeping in will be difficult if not impossible, even on some days off, so you decide to soak it up now. You make yourself get up eventually and start getting dressed. T-shirt and shorts today, you would be working outside basically all day, it was going to be hot, hair out of the way, socks on, sneakers, hat and sunscreen smeared, you head out.

It isn’t too bad yet. It’s still early, the sun isn’t high in the sky, the fresh air is nice, there is dew on the grass, and you are ready to face today’s tasks head on. You go to the mess hall and find the serving trays full but the line itself is empty, you must be one of the first people up. You don’t wait around, you serve yourself, eat eggs and bacon and toast quickly, down coffee and juice and with a water bottle filled with ample ice you make your way back out, intent on getting serious work in.

Wanting to get to right to it once at the boathouse and pull the key out of your shorts pocket, and you open the door, you look over everything and start to break down what you need to do and then get to work. First up is cleaning out the boathouse. It’s a little dusty, a little cobwebbed, some garbage about and while working on cleaning you notice there is a loose floorboard. You find a tool box and nails, and you really get into it. Some of the shelving is screwed up, you take to fixing that up too, and when doing that you also rearrange the boathouse to your liking. You figure you might as well since this is going to be your work station for the next three months. The floors had been swept, the window cleaned letting in some of that wonderful summer sunshine, the garbage all bagged up, you press on.

Throughout all this you assess the boats and decide they need some sooner rather than later maintenance, while working on the boathouse you found some still sealed cans of paint, after checking out the colours you made the call that after fixing them up you could even paint them. You make this the new priority, the paint was appropriate for the job, must have been bought for the last time the canoes were painted, but after they are cleaned up they will need a while to cure up properly. Even when the kids arrive you will have some time, all the kids who are going to use the canoes have to pass a swim test as well as being informed of the general safety prior to getting in one. If you are lucky, the first canoe rides will happen before the end of the first week of them being there.

After some asking around to the other counsellors you find out there is a belt sander available, which is perfect because hand sanding this many canoes would be very time-consuming, this is going to speed up the process exponentially. The one thing that eventually pulls you out of the work is realising how hungry you are, not even sure of what time it is, but the sun is much higher, the temperature way hotter. You make the call to go to the mess hall, see if it is lunchtime. When you arrive, the place is empty. You worked through lunch and missed it, judging by the clock on the wall you’d been almost an hour past the allotted window.

Fuck.

What are you going to do? You did bring some snacks and maybe retreating to your cabin to get something to tide you over was the move, you were thinking it over when the doors leading back to the kitchen opened and your eyes were drawn to the sound. Upon seeing Buddy up front, apron on and busing tub in his hands, you gain hope back for a second. He smiles and calls out, “Oh, there you are.”

You begin to make your way up to the serving line where he is, “Hey Buddy. Hate to be a bother, is there any lunch left?”

He tells you in a light tone with a raise of his eyebrows, “You’re a little late.”

“I know, I know, I got really caught up working, but still, do you have anything?” You asked, and he said, “Of course I do.”

“Wait really?” You asked, and he said, “All the food passes through my hands personally when serving, so when I didn’t see you I knew I should put something aside.”

He gives you a single finger raise, the busing tray is set down, and he comes forward, reaches under the serving line, roots around a bit before pulling out a bag. He gestures for you to come closer, and you come up, he holds the bag out, and you take it. Opening the brown paper to find a wrapped sandwich, a fruit cup, cookies, veggie sticks, cheese and crackers, “Wow, quite a spread.”

“Hey, I know you’re working hard, gotta be well-fed.” You appreciated it, the look in his eyes conveyed that he believed it and that it meant more than just the job he was hired and brought here to do.

“Thanks, it’s really nice of you.” He shrugs and brushes you off, saying it’s no big deal, he also tells you that he intends to stick to this, will always make sure something is put aside and even if you are late at times he encourages you to check the fridge in the back.

You end up sitting at the table and eating the food he made, an easy conversation is struck as he is cleaning up the mess hall around you, since it was just the counsellors so far it was relatively easy, but he wants to keep in the habit of keeping it all cleaned up.

“So, how goes the set-up?” You asked him, and he said, “Oh great, kitchen just needed a good deep clean, I’m basically all done, I just want to reorganize the fridge.”

“I totally get what you mean, I did the same thing with the boathouse.” You tell him and he asked, “Already? You work quick.”

“Well it’s mostly done, right now I’m working on fixing up the canoes.”

“They need much work?” He asks, and you tell him confidently, “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“How foolish of me to doubt your immense talents.” He said easily as he loads another tray into the bin. “Very foolish indeed. I’m glad to hear the work is going well, but what about the assignment I gave you?”

A brow quirks up at that as he questions, “Assignment?”

“Yes, to help you not be an anti-social loner this summer?” The recognition hits, and he says, “Oh, that.”

“Yes. That. Have you made any friends yet?” He has finished picking up the trays and was going to start to walk to the back, and he says, “No, not quite yet-”

“Buddy.” You say his name and that makes him stop. A shared look, and he says your name in kind, and you push, “You promised.”

“I’m going to try, seriously, just been busy so far and also ease up we’ve been here like a day.” You take a bite of your sandwich and squint at him, an unconvinced hum, and he groans, eyes rolling back as he tells you, “I mean it, I’ll try okay?”

You finish chewing, swallow and tell him,“That’s better. You deserve a fun summer, and I am not always gonna be able to be around to make sure that happens.”

“You made the sale, now stop selling.” He says it lightly, and you thank him for listening to you.

He brings the trays to the back and comes back out, he is wiping down tables as you talk, the conversation is good, there is a levity to it that makes you smile, the back and forth you’d already started to develop brings a smile to your face. You are sure he is going to make friends and have a good summer.

Soon enough the food is done, you are giving him another thank you and getting up to head out the door, he calls out, “Once those canoes are ready, you’re still gonna take me for a ride right?”

You turn and call back, “You’ll be the first one I take out on the water, alright?”

A smile is thrown your way along with the call of, “Alright!”

Back out in the sun and back to work you go. The time flies by while you are hard at work under the slowly sinking sun. You know another few hours have gone by when Sam comes by and tells you as such. He comes up with a friendly wave and an apology about how long he has taken to get over to you, you tell him that it’s, “-no trouble, I’ve been busy.”

“So I can see.” he says with a look to the tools and things spread around in the grass. He has a small cooler with him, he opens it and pulls out a water bottle, he holds it out and says, “Take a break?”

You do just that.

You and he sit on the grass, and you ask him how his day has been, “Busy, been getting pulled in every which direction, but I’m managing.”

“Almost like that’s the head counsellor’s job or something.” You tease and he laughs. He has a good laugh, you wish you could hear it more, a kind of laugh that makes you want to laugh too, infectious. You hope after camp is going, and you are all more settled into it, that he would feel more comfortable and relax some more.

“How’d you get into doing this?” He asks, and you tell him, “My favourite activities at camp were the water based ones, swimming and of course canoeing, I loved it a ton. I got to a point of being an unofficial helper at my old camp with all that stuff.”

“Wow, impressive.” He sounds genuine, and you toss him a sideways smile before you take another healthy drink from the water bottle he gave you, it feels so good and needed in the beating down heat of the summer day.

The conversation meanders until you ask him, “So what about this camp, what’s the history of it?”

He opens his mouth to start to tell you when there is a shout of, “Sam?!” You both look to see another one of your fellow counsellors coming towards you both, seeking help, and Sam sighs. He gets up and tells you, “I’ll fill you in on that soon, okay?”

“You better stop running out on me soon, Sammy, or I’ll get the impression you don’t like me.” You call as you watch him go, with another laugh and a promise he’ll improve.

After some more work and a quick shower, you have dinner with the other counsellors, and you are determined today to stay up for the fire. You feel bad about being so tired and bailing, bonding with your fellow staff before camp starts up is important to you, foraging new friendships and relationships is important to you too. Dinner was good, better than yesterday even, and when you were going to return your tray and a few others upfront, you didn’t want to make Buddy have to run around cleaning them all up. You managed to catch him, offering up the trays, he smiled and took them gratefully.

“Hey Buddy, thanks for dinner, it was fucking great.” You praise, and he said with a half-smile, “Thank you, glad you liked it.”

“Just giving credit where it’s due. You coming to the bonfire tonight?” You ask, and he says, “I am and actually about that, it’s s’more night tonight and I could use a hand, mind helping me out?”

You’d be happy to.

Following along, you thought about how you hadn’t been inside the kitchen before tonight, the place looked good considering the fact it was post dinner, but again he just had to worry about feeding the counsellors, you are sure it might be a different story when all the kids are here. He was running the trays through the dishwasher and had gotten a box out while the machinery hummed behind him, he was loading it up with what was needed, graham crackers, marshmallows, chocolate and the rest as you watched him.

“So is this what you always wanted to do?” The question filled the space, even though it didn’t need to be filled. Buddy looked up at you and said, “What?”

“Cooking. Being a cook, is this what you always wanted to do?” You asked and one of his shoulders picked up, a half shrug as he said jokingly, “I think the term you are looking for is chef-”

He gave you a look-out from under his curls and the playfulness found in his blue eyes as well as his soft looking pink lips curled into a smile had quite the effect on you. What he said next was not as humorous, but it was warm, more honest, ”-and kind of. Always wanted to open a restaurant.”

You feel there is more he isn’t saying, but you two are very new to knowing each other, maybe he will tell you more about it another time. Instead of really pushing, you just give a simple, “Really?”

He smiles wider, you see a flash of his teeth, “I mean, everyone needs their raison d’etre, right?” You laugh, “Oh man, busting out the French, hm?”

“I’m Canadian.” He said with a fond roll of his eyes as he picked up the box, adding on, “I’m allowed. Now come on, let’s get down there.”

You and Buddy make your way to where the bonfire is meant to be that night. Starting the fire was easy enough, and soon other people were joining. You and he make s’mores together, toast marshmallows, break apart chocolate squares and assemble the confections together, pile up a plate with the sticky sweet delights you crafted, partially wrapped in tinfoil, both have a drink each during the process. After that, you are walking around with your bounty to share with everyone. Before you know it, you are with Sam again, he is standing alone and looking stressed, you ask him, “You want a s’more?”

He looks over at you and gives you a nervous smile, mumbling, “Thanks.” He takes the s’more but doesn’t take a bite. You quirk a brow at that and ask, “You wanna share with the class or?”

Sam’s eyes move towards you, and he exhales a simple, “What?”

“I can tell something if bugging you, so open your mouth to tell me all about it or to shove that damn s’more into it.” You tell him with a smile before taking a sip from the cool can you have in one hand, the other occupied holding the plate of s’mores.

You see the ghost of a smile pass his lips, head tipping forward a little, before he starts to tell you, “I’m just worried about getting everything ready in time for the camp’s opening. Worried about making this a good summer for the counsellors and kids alike too, honestly.”

You can’t help the laugh that spills out, you have to grip the plate harder for fear it might slip from your grasp. You laugh so hard it takes a moment for your shoulders to stop shaking, and you inhale hard as you catch your breath, Sam asks for the second time tonight, “What?”

“Sorry, sorry! I just-” You giggle before saying, “Sam, that’s fucking ridiculous.”

“Oh gee thanks.” he scoffed, and you jump to say, “No, no, I just mean, I’ve been seeing how hard everyone has been working, the camp will for sure be ready and as for having fun? I mean, come on, I saw the draft of the activities, everyone is going to have a killer time!”

You set the can down on the picnic table you had both been standing next to, you reach out and set your hand on his shoulder, you give a reassuring squeeze and a smile that radiated as much warmth as the camp fire burning a few feet away. The smile seemed to infect him as well, you could feel his shoulder relax under your touch. He asked, “You mean that?”

And you confirmed sincerely, “Course I do! Now loosen up, eat your s’more, have a beer, kids won’t be here for a good long while, get your relaxing in now! It’s not like we can keep working on what needs to get done in the dark anyway, right?”

He exhaled, amused and nodded, “You are very right, and uhm, thank you. I really feel better getting that out, I think I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, and I mean that, now I am not leaving your side until you get a drink in, you wouldn’t let me drink alone, would you?” A slight pout and he says, “Well, I am supposed to be setting an example to the other counsellors-” He reaches into the nearby cooler and takes out a beer.

You and he drink together, people come by for s’mores and the night wares on. You have a good time, and eventually you and Sam drift apart, and you talk to your other counsellors, and Sam does the same. At one point you look over at him and see him talking animatedly and excitedly, at least three drinks deep, face a little flushed and laughing to some joke, it makes you happy to see.

You go to bed that night much later and wake up the next day much later as a result. You get ready and make your way to the mess hall for a late breakfast, when you are in line getting served Buddy teases you, “Sleep alright?”

A small laugh, “M’ fine, I hydrated before bed, no hangover for me.”

“Smart cookie.” He praises as he heaps scrambled eggs next to your silver dollar pancakes, and you grin, “That’s me.”

The breakfast is great, you eat the food, get some orange juice and coffee in you and fill up your reusable water bottle with ice and water before heading out to get back to work.

Falling back into the rhythm of it is easy, you work hard, work so hard in fact you work right through lunch, again, you shouldn’t make that a habit, but you are finally caught up on everything. You are starving but happy, you make your way to find the head counsellor before going to get some food, too excited and desperate to tell him you are all caught up, you find him after a while, calling out , “Sammy!”

You approach him with a wave, and he looks up from his task, chopping wood, a smile of his own, he waves in return as you walk up to him. “Hey! Missed you at lunch, was going to swing by soon to check on you.”

“Sorry, was busy working, but I had to come tell you, I finished my tasks, so if you need my hands anywhere else I can pick up some slack.”

Sam’s brows lift, and he seems genuinely surprised, he sets the axe down, leaning on it, your eyes linger just a bit, he is missing the flannel, and you can’t help but notice how nice his arms look in his camp branded t-shirt. “Wow! You work quick!”

“Thanks!” You say with a big smile, feeling genuinely happy to hear the praise, Sam tells you, “I appreciate the hustle, seriously, but you worked so hard, you can totally take the rest of the day off. If you want you can help with some of the final clean up in the last few areas tomorrow.”

“Awesome! Totally would be happy to help out, I’ll see you at dinner.” You say, and he stops you, “Just one second. I have a question.”

“Shoot.” You prompt him, and he says, “How did you get the rest of your work done so quick?”

“C’mon, man, I worked through lunch.” You say with a smile before tacking on, “And I’m just that good.”

“Well, you didn’t eat then?” You shake your head and Sam tuts, he leans the axe against the pile of good as he tells you, “That’s no good, dinner is hours off yet, follow me.”

That is the first time you find yourself in Sam Wescott’s office. It’s nice, homey, the windows let in a lot of natural light, his desk is organized. There is a shelf with pictures from summer's previous, you recognize locations from around the camp, Sam was a cute kid. He offers up half of his own sandwich from lunch and a small bag of chips. You grin and take them gratefully, “Oh, thank you so much!”

“Least I can do, you can’t go hungry.” He said easily enough with a nod. “Now go enjoy the rest of your day.”

You turn on your heel with another thank you, and you hear him say after you, “Thank God you joined up this summer.”

The feeling was mutual. You ponder how well fed you were between Buddy and Sam as you munched on turkey on wheat on the way back to your cabin. You caught a power nap and a chapter of your book before dinner.

After another great meal, where you made sure to thank Buddy profusely for the dinner he teased you, “Seriously, I missed you at lunch again, you gotta stop working so hard, you’ll burn out, and we aren’t even a week in!” You told him you appreciated his concern, but that you’d be fine. After dinner, you had nothing going on, tonight there was no set activity, seemed everyone had been working themselves very hard, it was a free night, do whatever. You go to your cabin again, gather your things, and go have your first proper shower since arriving. You really scrub yourself down, much more involved than the quick rinse the other day, the rest of the night is spent relaxing and reading one of the many books you brought along.

You pass out and wake up mid-morning to the sound of knocking on your cabin door. Stumbling out of bed, you make your way to the door and pull it open to find Sam standing outside. “Hey! Oh, my God, I am so sorry, did I wake you up?”

A glance down at yourself still in your tank top and sleep short shorts, you shrug, “Yeah, but no worries, what’s up?”

He nodded and said, “I was just wondering if you could show me around the boat house after breakfast? And then I can show you where else we might need your help?”

“Oh yeah, sounds great!” You tell him with a nod, you try to smile but end up yawning, you cover your mouth slightly embarrassed, and Sam says, “Great, see you post breakfast.”

You wave, “See you then.” You close the door and since you are awake you set to getting dressed and ready. You head out over Buddy serving you French toast and bacon, he greets you with a surprising amount of cheer for it being so early, you suppose you are making an impression.

“What are you doing today?” He inquires, and you ask, “Why do you wanna know?”

“I’m done with my work, wondering if I could get that canoe ride?” He asks, and you tell him, “Sam has to check over my work and I said I would help out some other people, but I can totally make a bit of time for that today.”

“Yeah?” He asked, and you told him, “Absolutely! I’m excited about it, dying to get out on the water already, it’s been too long.”

“Amazing, maybe after lunch?” He asked, and you said genuinely, “I’ll do my best.”

Post breakfast you grab Sam and steer him in the direction of the boat house, you show him everything, walk around pointing out all you did and Sam is very impressed, “You REPAINTED the boats?!”

His mouth was hanging open, he reminds you a bit of a fish, and you laugh, “Well most of them, this one was in surprisingly good shape!” You say, patting the side of it. “They look like new, right? I even redid the camp Clear Vista on the sides.”

“I am speechless.” He had his hands on his hips, shaking his head in disbelief, and you felt very, very proud of yourself, “Where else do you need me?”

“Oh yes! About that-” He clapped his hands together and said, “-I asked around and turns out everyone is all caught up, so everyone gets a free day!”

That IS very good fucking news. You have the whole day to do whatever you want! You ask Sam, “What are you going to do?”

“I am going to finish up some last minute paperwork, look over everyone else's work-” The way he shares his admission is slightly shy, he rushes to tell you next, “-but I will be able to join for the fire tonight!”

Stifling a laugh, telling him, “Sam, you work too hard, you better have some real fun tonight.” You sigh after, and he promises, “I will.”

Satisfied, you wish him well on the remainder of his work, and you make your way back to the mess hall. You head right back to the kitchen, and you push open the door calling out, “Oh Buddy?”

The fridge closes, and you see his curly haired head pop into view, “Surprised to see you here already.”

“I’ve got good news! Sam told me everyone is all caught up, everyone has a free day, so I am ready whenever you are.” You tell him, and he says, “That is very good news! I’ve got some of my own too, today is grab and go for lunch.”

He gestures to the trays on the table, “I am gonna put em out there and people can get whatever they want, I did it, so everyone could grab whatever to finish their work, but now I guess they can grab it and go wherever they want.”

This is wonderful all around. You help Buddy put everything out for anyone to grab before he tells you, “Let me just finish the cleanup, I’ll meet you at the boathouse in a half hour?”

You nod and go off to get some things ready. You love even this, getting everything together to go out on the water, the half hour passes easily and Buddy joins you, he lets you take the lead, and you help him get in the boat, and you are pushing off. Buddy’s curls are hidden from view, wearing a bucket hat, he is wearing some of the sunscreen you brought, he had packed some of the lunch stuff for you guys to enjoy. The conversation flows like the water the boat is in, you talk easily but also share comfortable and companionable silences. You talk a bit about technique, how to maintain balance, steering, and Buddy listens to every word.

He breaks one of the bouts of silences by saying, “You really know your shit.”

A light laugh, the running water and rustling of the trees clear in the backdrop, “I’d hope so after all this time. Can’t tell you how many hours I have spent under the sun and in a boat.”

While you guys are paused, simply floating, eating lunch, he says, “I think I get it.”

You hum questioningly and Buddy says, “Why you like it. S’ real calming.”

Brightening considerably, you tell him, “Yeah it is! Very calming, I love how still and quiet everything can be out here. Gives me a chance to reflect.”

“Could use some of that from time to time?” He asked, and you nodded, taking another bite of your sandwich, “Yup, you?”

He sighed before parroting you, “Yup.”

“Canada that stressful?” You ask, and he laughs, a small startled sound, “No, no, the country is not.”

“How would I know? I’ve never been. Could be a lawless wasteland for all I know.”

“It isn’t that different from America, you know.” He teases, and you say, “Then why’d you leave?”

He shakes his head, “Oh you know, just…Wanted a change of scenery. I’m young, why not get outta the country, see some of the world?”

Fair enough. Can’t fault him for that.

The rest of lunch is nice, you get him back to the shore, and you say, “We should do this again sometime.”

“I would love that, make it a regular thing.” He took off his life jacket and passed it over and told you, “I have to go get a start on dinner, thanks again for the ride.”

“Anytime.” You wave, and he returns it, you watch him go before cleaning up, getting the canoe out of the water and back in place. Back at your cabin, you do some more reading for a while until you feel a little restless.

You want to enjoy the nice weather, take advantage of it, back outside you go and during your walk you come across Sam, finally done with his work. He seems more at peace just from the relaxed expression on his face. You end up sitting on this hill together, you can see most of the camp, the sun is starting to set, dinner will be soon.

Sam says, “This is my favorite place at camp.”

You glance over at him, the orange light playing off his features, the shadows that fall and your eyes follow his lips as they move, “It’s nice up here, the view is great, just the air feels better out here you know? Fills up my lungs in a way that they don’t get filled up anywhere else.”

You let him talk, and he continues, “I am so excited, this place means the world to me, and I am dying to make this even better than it used to be when I was a kid, you know?”

Meeting your eyes, he says, “Thank you for all your help, not to be a total sap, but I’m really grateful.”

It has only been three days, but you already feel closer to Sam, you have a really good feeling about your blossoming friendship.

“I don’t think you are a sap, I can tell this is really important to you. I’m happy to help make it happen.” You said, you stretch before leaning back on your hands, the grass feels cool, you look up at the colourful sky and say, “I want the same things you do, you know. I want to make this the kind of summer I remember having as a kid, and hey, maybe it is a little selfish, but I kinda wanna try and recapture some of that for myself.”

He was a little vulnerable with you, no shame in being a tad vulnerable back.

“I hope you can.” Sam sounded so sincere, it was utterly endearing.

Dinner was a bigger deal tonight, Buddy and Jason poured a ton of effort into it, and there were many thanks all around. You talked excitedly with your fellow counsellors about the busy day ahead tomorrow with the first batch of kids arriving. After dessert, a make your own sundae bar, you had seconds, everyone headed back out to the fire pit.

Alex, one of the other counsellors was going to be song leader, he came out with his guitar, he plays songs and everyone sings along, Buddy is less than impressed, you offer to sit with him and do so at the fringes of the group. You and he are having a drink and that is when Sam comes over.

“Not singing?” Sam asks, and you laugh, a gesture of your head to your brunette and not so musically inclined haired companion, “Buddy isn’t a fan of singing and I didn’t want him to sit alone.”

Sam seemed surprised to hear of this and said, “Nice of you to not leave him lonely.”

Buddy hums and takes a drink, a nod before saying, “Yeah she’s been great at checking in on me, we went out on the water earlier.”

“She took you out in a canoe?” Sam asked slowly, and you said confidently, happiness apparent, “First go of the season! It was so fun, Buddy had never been in a canoe before, can you believe it?”

“I cannot.” Sam laughs, “I do believe about her checking in on you, she’s been doing the same with me.”

“Oh, thanks by the way for showing me that spot on the hill, totally gorgeous, you might bump into me there on my own sometimes.” You say with a cock of your head and a raise of your brows, and Buddy not wanting to be left out, asks, “Spot on the hill?”

“Yeah, there’s this nice place that you can see almost all the camp from, Sam and I sat up there, had a good talk at sunset before dinner.”

“A conversation at sunset.” Buddy mused, can at his lips, “You’re real busy, aren’t you?” He asks with a nudge of your shoulder, and you put your hands up, “Guilty.”

You see it then, a look on Sam’s face at the easy physical contact between you and Buddy, there was something to it, you look over at Buddy and see them both looking at one another, almost considering each other. You look between the pair and the realization starts to sink in, you are starting to like them both and if the way they are looking at each other and reacting to hearing how you have been spending time one on one, they might be beginning to like you too.

Maybe this summer is going to lead to more. But how could you ever pick between them?

#Poly!Camping Boys x reader #Buddy Swanson X reader #Sam Wescott X Reader #BHF Writing #Tentatively Tending To Trauma #TTTT

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bisexual-horror-fan · 1 year ago

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Do-Over-December 16th. 69. Sam Wescott X FEM! AFAB! Reader. "Mutual Satisfaction."

Hooo boy! Time for Sammy, my sweet wonderful soft Sam Wescott. I love him, I love this, I barely touched it. This is legit one of my all-time faves, I am obsessed with it. I hope you all enjoy it!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 3.1K (Old Length 3K) Warnings. Sweet Stuff. Light Fluff. Implied Established Relationship. Poly!Camping Boys Mention. Alcohol Mention. Praise. Making out. Dirty Talk. Grinding. Blow Job. Cunnilingus. 69ing Obvi. Swallowing. Voyeurism. Teasing. One Awful Vine Joke.

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It was a lovely date night, but it always tended to be with Sam. The pair of you had gone out to a restaurant Buddy recommended and as per usual, it was amazing. After dinner, you were both walking down the city street, leisurely taking in decorated store displays and strung up lights, casually talking, “I swear, I can’t get over how good dinner was. How does Buddy know all the best places?”

His hand reached out for yours, fingers lacing together as he responded with a small laugh, “Ah, don’t you know? It’s his secret underground network of fellow restaurant workers, they keep him in the loop.”

A laugh of your own as you swung your arms, “Is that what it is? How do we get in on that?”

His head cocked to the side slightly, brows partially pinched together as he said, “Oh I’ve been trying but unless you’re a chef you aren’t allowed in.”

You snapped your fingers on the hand that wasn’t currently holding his, glancing at him as you said jokingly, “Damn! Guess we gotta keep him around, huh?”

That got a laugh out of him again before he joked back with you, “If only for the food recommendations.”

It was all in good fun, you both loved Buddy a lot, cared for him more than you had adequate words for, enjoyed him and his company for so many reasons. You met Sam and Buddy last year working at the summer camp Sam’s family owned, you and Sam were counsellors and Buddy was the camp’s cook. You had all gotten together that summer, and it was the best one that you’d ever had, as summer came to an end you didn’t want it to stop and you three realized it didn’t have to, and so it didn’t.

Sam and Buddy were roommates, had been since after the first year they worked together, but that might change soon. You had all been talking about it and agreed looking for a new apartment with you might be in order, an exciting thought.

You and Sam had the apartment to yourselves. It was Saturday night and due to being a chef Buddy wasn’t home, he worked nights doing the dinner shift and of course the weekends were slammed, and they relied on him to be there. Soon you and Sam were back inside his and Buddy’s apartment, it was cold out earlier you were starting to take your jacket off when Sam helped you out of it, once he had taken it he was hanging it up by the door.

“Look at you, such a gentleman.” You tease.

A roll of his eyes as he took his own jacket off, you were always too playful with him. You reached out, and your hand met his arm, “I believe you promised me a drink.”

He made good on that promise as always, but that drink was a while ago. Glasses abandoned on the coffee table, both of you on the couch, you had been looking into his eyes. He was talking about something, telling some story about something that happened at work, but you were so fucking distracted looking at his mouth that you weren’t really listening. You were both sitting facing each other on the couch, knees almost touching, he was smiling and gesturing excitedly, and he was so cute that you couldn’t help it. Your hand reached out and met the back of his neck, and you were up on your knees and leaning forward as you pulled him to you, kissing him, cutting him off. He didn’t stop you, it did take him a second to return your sudden affection.

Your other hand found his shoulder, and you gripped the fabric pulling him closer still and his hands were on your waist as his tongue ran over your bottom lip and fuck that simple act made you pulse and made your breath want to catch. It went on like that, the slide of your lips on his, breathing harder, hands roaming and groping and pulling, both getting needier.

You could feel him getting harder against your thigh, and you knew you were getting so wet from just kissing him, you needed more than this, and soon, you couldn’t stop yourself. He wanted to pull you into his lap and tried to and both of your hands were on his chest and pushed back on him, a hum as you started to kiss over his jaw and neck, a soft groan leaving him as he asked softly, “Mmm no?”

A soft laugh and a shake of your head as you repeated it, moving lower, hands dragging down his chest, “Mmm no. I have something else in mind.”

You were on the floor on your knees, your mouth pressing a few kisses over him, and that had him shifting his hips as you worked on his belt. Your fingers hooked into his belt loops, and you tugged, in response he rushed to help you get his jeans down. He was pushing them down his hips as you pulled, and when he felt your hot breath and mouth on his aching cock through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs, it made his hands slow as he breathed out your name. Jeans disposed of somewhere behind you, you settled between his thighs, mouth still teasing him over that last remaining layer of clothing. You were of course going to go through with it but teasing him, making him squirm just a bit was too good to pass up.

You couldn’t hold back your smile as you played for a while longer, when you felt him shift again you glanced up, his head was back, it was clear he wanted more but wasn’t about to push, and you decided to progress things further. While his head was still back your fingers found the top of his underwear and pulled them down quickly, the second his cock was exposed your tongue made contact and ran up his shaft. You kept your eyes on him the whole time to watch his reaction. He wasn’t expecting it, and the sound you pulled from him was delicious.

Your hand closed around him, and you gave him no time to adjust, tongue lathing over the head, a few passes over it before taking it into your mouth, hand moving up and down, grip firm and he moaned your name.

You closed your eyes and relaxed a little, the weight of his dick felt pleasantly heavy on your tongue and as you started to bob up and down, hand moving in tandem with your mouth, twisting slightly, getting him much wetter with your spit in the process. You adored doing this, being on your knees and using your mouth and hands to please him. It felt good, it satisfied this deep and more submissive part of you. And for the other reason too, Sam deserved so much, and you wanted to give him everything that you possibly could.

You worked him over beautifully, slick hand dragging over his hard shaft, grip tightening, tongue swirling around the head, sucking and pushing down, taking him deeper. You pulled him out, wet and velvety tip brushing over your lips and then your cheek before you licked up the side, open-mouthed kisses placed over his head and shaft as you still stroked him. You listened to his heavy breathing and the quiet groans he let out, hushed whispers of your name and of praise too, it made you throb, and your panties get damper.

He moaned your name before uttering that you, “-feel so good.”

Your tongue ran over that sensitive sweet spot where the head of his cock met his shaft, and you focused on it for a moment, the hand that wasn’t curled around him was on his inner thigh, and you could feel him tense. The strained- “Fuck!” -that action pulled from him was probably your favourite.

You enjoyed having him this way for a little longer before doing one of those moves that you knew really got to him, moving swiftly taking almost all of him in one motion, sliding him to nearly the back of your throat. His hips pressed up momentarily with a gasp, you had no time to soak up such a delicious reaction because he reacted swiftly.

It was your turn to be surprised. His hand on your head, he pushed you off of him, sliding his slick cock out of you, and you weren’t expecting it. He was so strong he did it no problem, before you could question he was leaning forward his hands gripped your biceps and pulled you up. His mouth was on yours, kissing you hard, passionately and deeply, surprisingly possessive from him, you moaned against his mouth and melted into it.

Sam’s hands slipped up, and his fingers hooked in the straps of your dress and pulled them down, you allowed him to easily, chest now exposed to him. He had pulled you onto his thigh and his hands were on your breasts, fingers teasing your nipples, he broke the kiss for a minute, mouth on your throat, talking low to you, “So fucking wet, I can feel it.”

He moved his leg under you, and your breath stuttered for a moment as the motion forced you to grind on him. You might have pushed him a tad too far tonight, normally Sam wasn’t quite so forceful, but you weren’t going to complain, how rough he was being right now as he touched you felt good.

You couldn’t help it, grinding down on his thigh as he pulled harder at your nipples, a moan crossing your lips, mumbling out, “Can’t help it.”

He bit the side of your throat lightly, and it made you whine, exposing more of your neck to him and instead of feeling him continue his assault on your throat you were pulled again. He was on his back on the couch and had pulled you into position to be over his face, your knees were on either side of his head, his hands on your outer thighs to help steady you. One of your hands was on the backrest of the couch, then you felt one of his hands sliding up your between your thighs, fingers finding the soaked crotch of your panties and pulling them out of the way. His other hand sliding up to your hip, grip practically bruising, and he pulled you down hard. His tongue ran up your whole slit, and you couldn’t hold back your moan, he moaned against you, hand squeezing your hip, “Needed to taste you. Taste so good.”

Sam was always absurdly good with his mouth. Even when there was more build up, and you knew it was coming you were never ready, it was always just right, so now, it being forced upon you so quickly with no warning it was difficult to take. Your bottom lip was tugged on with your teeth as his tongue ran over your clit and that same hand that had moved your panties aside from before was still right there, his thumb brushed through your folds, up and down.

Damn it was too good when his mouth closed around that sensitive bud, it made your hips roll forward, craving more from him. He sucked, and his thumb teased your entrance, he hummed his appreciation for your taste and the sounds you were making, and for the way your thighs had already started to tremble on either side of his head. You couldn’t help it, praise for him spilling from your mouth as he ate you out, “Sam! Fuck-Sammy yes-”

The suction was broken for a moment as his tongue made a few more passes over your straining clit and some messy open-mouthed kisses were placed on the sensitive flesh, and your breathing was ragged. You had one hand on his chest, shaking slightly, and your eyes opened back up, and you saw it. He was still so fucking hard, pre-cum leaking over his stomach, red and aroused, his cock laying there on his toned stomach and all of a sudden you needed a taste too. You didn’t communicate this need, you instead reached out, hand closing around him and his mouth stopped, his head fell back against the couch cushion with a moan as he hadn’t expected that,

“Ah shit-”

The perfect opportunity now that his mouth had paused, you leaned down and with your hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, your tongue made contact. Your mouth closed around him, and you slid down, tongue running over him as you pulled him halfway into your mouth in one go.

“Oh God.”

You only managed to move your head up and down a few times, hand gripping the base of his shaft, tasting his pre-cum coating your tongue. Both of his hands had pushed your skirt fully up, both hands on your ass, and he pulled you down, his mouth back on you in return.

Next it became a small competition. Who could make the other moan louder, make the other person’s rhythm break, make them stop or hold on harder. Your hands were on his thighs now, leisurely fucking your own mouth with his cock, sucking and hallowing your cheeks, moaning against him, breathing hard through your nose. One of his hands kneading your ass as his lips and tongue were working your clit in just such a way that had your legs quivering while he had two fingers buried in your dripping cunt.

The build up was agonizing.

You had to be careful, if you worked him too well it made him break a little as well as focusing on him so hard made it harder to truly enjoy what he was doing. He was having the same issue too, but eventually, like with most things with the two of you, a perfect rhythm was found, falling into sync just so. You would sink down, taking his cock so deeply, tongue flat on the underside, and as you came back up, cheeks hollowing, sucking as you did he would lick over your clit and suck deeply too, fingers slipping in and out, pressing on that spot. It was fucking incredible, as his dick slid out of your mouth his fingers slipped inside of you, and it practically took your breath away.

You were both tensing, shaking, your hands were gripping his thighs harder, and you moaned against him, trying to tell him you were close, and you felt him pulse against your tongue, and you realized he was reaching his end too. Neither of you wanted to break away, it felt too damn good, no way you could stop.

Why didn’t you do this more? Pleasing each other at the same time was fucking incredible. The way you fed off of each other was perfect, how you would suck harder, and it would make his tongue roll over your clit again and make your back arch, well as much as it could without you pulling him from your mouth. He of course felt the same way, getting to feel your hot wet mouth engulfing his dick as he got to taste you and feel how he made you tremble on top of him.

You couldn’t let him know, but you didn’t have to, he knew you so well, he knew from how your thighs tensed and released and how your hips moved, grinding your aching clit on his tongue, nails digging into his thighs. Your eyes fell closed as you rode out your orgasm, your mouth stayed around the head of cock, one of your hands managed to continue stroking him and as your orgasm ended his kicked off. You u felt his cum painting over your tongue, his hips canting up, and you allowed him to fuck your mouth with the first half of his dick while you stroked the lower half. He tasted as good as always, and you greedily swallowed him back, eagerly downing his load and as his orgasm was ending you let go of him with your hand and slowly slid him all the way into your mouth, allowing him to be enveloped in the wet heat of your mouth on his come down.

You both paused and took a minute, luxuriating in each other before pulling back, his head falling back onto the couch cushion, and you were pulling him out of your mouth. You sighed and with your breathing still uneven you said, “Oh my fucking God, Sam.”

A breathless laugh from him, his hand gently patting your ass as he said, “I know, right?”

You returned the laugh and responded, “Why didn’t we do that sooner?”

“I dunno, why haven’t you?”

You and Sam both jumped, you shot up, hand on the back rest of the couch and greeted with none other than your other boyfriend and Sam’s roommate, Buddy Swanson. Leaning on one hand, looking smug as ever, your hand on your chest, you breathed out, “Fuckin’ Christ Buddy, you scared me. When did you get home?”

You looked over your shoulder to Sam who was half sitting up now, you were still partially on top of him, wondering just how long he had been there and how much he saw, “Oh, a while ago. Been here long enough to see that frankly spectacular finish.”

Buddy teased, and his hand reached out and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking over your cheek, you leaned into the touch, your heart slowed a little. You must have been so damn into it with Sam, you didn’t even hear the door open or notice him watching the two of you. He placed a kiss on your lips, and you returned it, a surprisingly sweet and soft moment, you pulled away, and his forehead met yours. Sam’s arms wrapped around your middle, and you felt him leaning against your back, hugging you.

It felt right, being between your two boys, and that same sweet moment ended when Buddy broke the silence,“So I’m next, right?”

Sam laughed first and so did you, pulling back, hand coming up to Buddy’s chest and pushing him back as you did so. Buddy laughed too, curls brown curls bouncing a little as he shook his head as he asked, “What, so no head?”

You grabbed the throw pillow from the end of the couch, and you threw it at him, he ducked out of the way and Sam had fallen back on the couch dying laughing.

This was your life, and you wouldn’t change it for anything.

#Do-Over-December #slasher x reader #Sam Wescott x reader #Buddy Swanson x reader #BHF writing

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bisexual-horror-fan · 1 year ago

Text

"Chocolate." Buddy Swanson X AFAB! Reader.

The divorce is hard but Triple X Bexxx works harder. Have some Buddy Swanson comfort fic! You and he cooking, baking and fucking, a classic date night in! Enjoy it! I’ve wanted to write this one for too long.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 4K. Buddy Swanson X AFAB! Reader. Warnings: Softness. Domesticity. Fluff. Cooking. Baking. Alcohol Consumption. Couch Sex Vaginal Sex. Pre-Mature Ejaculation. Praise. Confessions Of Love. Eating Out, Mild Overstimulation. Slight Pain Play. Hair Pulling. Buddy Is So Soft For You. Established Relationship.

—

You had a hard day. A very long, very difficult day, the kind of day that makes you doubt everything, how you got here, the job you are in, every single small action that brought you to this fucking awful day. It was so bad that when work was done you didn’t even go home, you had one place you wanted to be and knew just one thing you wanted to do.

Buddy was off tonight but he wasn’t supposed to be, an unexpected issue at the restaurant, the pipes in the bathroom burst and was being dealt with via an emergency plumber so he was at his apartment. He texted you to let you know what went down less than an hour ago, and you responded with a simple, “Perfect.” and a half hour after that there was a knock on his door.

He answered it to find you at his front door still in your work clothes, bags in your hands as you say with a tired smile, “Hey.”

He returns the greeting in kind, “Hi.”

You then ask as you raise your arms slightly, shaking the bags, “Date night?”

The response comes with a wide smile and his eyes crinkling at the sides as he confirms with a nod, “Date night.”

He lets you in and takes the bags so you can get your shoes off, you trail behind him to the kitchen and he sets the bags on the counter and you start to rummage through them, “I bought stuff to make dinner, I assume you haven’t eaten?”

“I have not.” You figured, he normally ate late, making himself something at the end of his shift and eating after that so it being the regular dinner hour right now means that you can have the rare time of eating not only together, but at a reasonable time.

“Good! I was thinking tonight we could cook together.” You begin to pull out items from the plastic and that surprised him, a warm grin as he asked, “Really?”

“Really! You cook for me all the damn time, but why not make something together?” When you showed up on his doorstep he wasn’t expecting this but man was it the best possible thing that could have come from this. He hadn’t cooked with anyone who he didn’t work with at his job in years, not in a casual context, never with someone he dated but you were his first real and serious relationship.

“That sounds great.” He sighed with a smile, one hand leaning on the countertop and you glanced up at him as you say, “I thought you’d like it. I hope you like the menu I planned.”

He is so used to taking the lead on this front that you making this effort without the smallest prompting from him means more than he can say. A smile and a raise of his eyebrows as he asked, “You planned the menu?”

“Well, I came up with a basic framework but I still wanted to leave room for us to improvise and come together on it, you know? So it really is a collaboration. I know you got a lotta stuff in here that we can jazz this up with.”

You were going to kill him.

“You are perfect, you know that?” He asked as he moved, a hand snaked around, rested on your hip, fingers having hooked into your pants belt loop, tugging you a hair closer to him, you tell him confidently, “I know.”

You stay like that for a moment, him holding your hip, happy to have you in his place, in his kitchen about to make a meal together. The items you got were as follows: a few large russet potatoes, a whole chicken, green beans, and a rather nice looking bottle of white wine.

“Oooh, alright, I must admit, a versatile spread.” He praised you and you said, “Thank you! And I went to that small time grocer you love-”

“On third?” He asked, grin brightening, and you said, “Yeah! You always talk it up, I went and got only the best for this.”

You say “for this” but really it means “for him.” He picks up on the meaning even though you don’t say it explicitly.

Before he can add a thought or express anything you interject and say, “So I am thinking we spatchcock the chicken.”

The grin splits his face now, his teeth show and he says jokingly, “Dirty talking? In MY kitchen?”

“Oh c’mon you know what spatchcocking means.” You sigh with a roll of your eyes and he cuts in, “I am just surprised, you know what it is.”

“You think I dunno how to break down a bird?” You ask incredulously and he says genuinely surprised, “I just didn’t know you could! Not like I usually doubt you but I am still unconvinced.”

You scoff and reach forward, you pick out a knife from the block and say with a sideways glance, “Watch and learn Swanson.”

He takes a step back, you wash your hands and set up the cutting board to your liking and then with sleeves rolled up and apron on, you set to work. First paper towels are gotten, you pat dry the chicken and then is the next step, you can feel Buddy’s eyes on you the whole time. You upend the bird, the spine is facing you and with the knife you place it to the left of the tail and at the base of it’s backbone before moving down quickly, you cut down, separating the small and weak rib bones that connect to the back.

You switch to the next side and do the same thing. You remove the spine and set it side before flipping the bird over and cutting into the soft cartilage, your pointer finger digs in along the cut and you use it to separate the meat from the main breast bone and then fingers gripping it tight, you pull it out. Next you cut out the ribs and then once all the bones excluding the wing and leg bones you ask, “You want to keep these to make stock I assume?”

It was the first time you looked at him in the less than three minutes it took for you to de-bone the chicken to this point. His face betrayed his true feelings. Brows raised, mouth open, eyes filled with pleasant shock and affection. You nudge him with your elbow as you asked, “You good?”

He cleared his throat and closed his mouth before he said trying to sound casual and unaffected, “Yeah, totally cool and yes, I’d love to make some stock with this.”

He turned and got out tupperware, you put the bones into it and he closed it up and put the container into the fridge. You asked next, “What kinda seasoning you are thinking?”

“Hmm. Not sure, you got a jones?” He asked and you said, “Classic kinda vibe? Salt, fresh cracked pepper, that smoked onion paprika you got, garlic powder, rosemary?”

“How very classic Sunday dinner. I love it.”

You talk further about how you want the rest of the menu to go as a butter herb mixture was made, you spread it heavily onto the meat, making sure to get under the skin and then into a roast pan, on a rack, went the seasoned and broken down chicken with lemon halves, celery, carrots and onion in the base working as your aromatics. The oven was preheated while you both stood shoulder to shoulder and started peeling potatoes.

“Your stance on mash?” You asked casually and he said, “Oh love it. A good mashed potato is a staple, a timeless side dish that never goes out of style.”

“Versatile too, right?” You ask and he nods, “Sooo versatile it is insane.”

“What do you like to do?”

The question you posed had him responding with, “Butter, half and half, salt, pepper, parmesan, parsley.”

“Amature hour.” You sigh and he asks with a smile, “Oh okay, and how would you do em?”

“First off, cook them in chicken stock for added flavour, then, mash with butter, buttermilk, garlic powder, salt, pepper, paprika, and cream cheese.” He responded with, “I give it up that sounds so good but you gunning for a heart attack before fifty?”

“Uh, yeah, obviously. Live fast, die young, leave a hot corpse.” You joke and he laughs before you add on, “C’mon Swanson, live a little, have the decadent mashed potatoes from time to time.”

“Twist my arm.” He shakes his head with a fond expression and you said, “Tempting, tempting.”

Chicken broth is boiling as you put the peeled, rinsed and cubed potatoes into the pot. The chicken is in the oven and next you set onto the green beans. Oil is heated in a pan while you wash the green beans thoroughly in a strainer, they are tossed in and you fry them as Buddy preps the buttermilk mix for the mash, you both talking easily as you push beans about the pan with a spatula and he gets the spice levels just right. “So then what happened?”

“She told me she had prepped the app station and when I went over she didn’t have any cheese pre-wrapped at all! No cake was cut for desserts later and the salad dressings were barely half full.” He vented and you shake your head, “What a fucking idiot. Like did she seriously think you wouldn’t check?”

“Apparently!”

“What a fucking idiot.” You repeat with a sigh.

One might assume, incorrectly, that Buddy didn't like to cook with other people, far from it, he loved to, so long as the people didn't step on his toes and had common sense and skills to back up their big talk. That was part of it, he didn't know you even HAD these skills, you kept it hush hush, it was humble, this air to you even now that you just knew what you were doing, not showing off, just confident in yourself. It was endlessly attractive to him. Sharing his kitchen, in his home, to make a great meal with you, he doesn't think there is a better date possible.

Buddy got the mix ready for the potatoes and then you added the prepped garlic, green onions and chilli paste into the pan. A few minutes later came the soy sauce, rice vinegar, sugar and chilli flakes. A couple more stirs and two minutes later it was done, the potatoes were mashed and the chicken was just about done which led to one of the best moments in Buddy’s opinion of your whole relationship. He got the plates, you got the silverware and you both set the table without speaking a single word to each other.

An intimate dance of comfortable domesticity and familiarity. Glasses were gotten, napkins too, candles lit, all without having to say a thing and while you were simply going through the motions, Buddy kept stealing glances to you, setting polished silverware down, lighting candles, the warm light playing off your face, Christ he had it so bad for you.

The only thing that pulled him out of his reverie was the oven clock timer going off before he could make a move you say, “Oh let me.”

You know just the drawer, you pull out the mitts, slip them on, the oven is open, you pull out the chicken and set the roasting pan on top of the stove next to the finished pot of covered mashed potatoes and the frying pan of chilli garlic green beans. You turn to him with a smile and ask, “The chicken has to rest for twenty minutes at least, wanna make dessert now?”

“More than anything.” He admits and you grin, a small question of, “Brownies?”

It’s brownies you want? It is brownies you will get.

The oven temperature was changed, ingredients got out and soon Buddy was having a moment that somehow topped the setting the table one in less than ten minutes. You were whisking together eggs and vanilla into the already creamed together butter and sugar mixture while he was right behind you. His hands on your hips, chin resting on your shoulder, his chest to your back, holding you as you work.

“Awfully quiet there Swanson.” You tease and he hums before placing a kiss on top of your head, “Just happy.”

“Yeah?” You asked and he responded in a tone that tattled on the smile on his face, “Yeah, very.”

Your hair askew, sweat on your brow, still dressed from work and wearing one of his aprons as you and he make brownies together and you look more beautiful than he had ever seen you.

"I'm happy too."

The pan is greased, the mix finished and brownie batter is poured into the pan, chocolate chips are thrown on top and then the finished product is in the oven before you plated up and he poured the wine.

He is sitting across from you in short order, starting to cut into the chicken, knife slicing through the tender meat as if there was no resistance at all and the taste once the end of the fork passed his lips was divine, it had Buddy wanting to suppress a moan. You did this, together, both of you, and he couldn’t be happier. He could get used to this, he is sure that you could live together no issue, to get to do this much more regularly is a dream come true and one he hopes can become a reality soon. He hopes that you would say yes, when should he ask-

But you are talking and all thought stops. He hangs off every word, watches the smile spread on your face as you excitedly start to talk about how good the meal came out and he enthusiastically agreed. You were always so good at that, pulling him out of his head, instead of feeling stuck in the past or thinking of the future, you tether him to the moment, to now and allow him to totally indulge and enjoy.

“So, verdict on the mash?” You asked and he had already almost finished his portion and was debating getting another scoop which should have been enough to tell you his thoughts but he still communicated them, “Amazing. Making me think we need to do better at the restaurant.”

“Oh stop, are you serious?” You asked and he set down his fork and took your hand as he said with a soft smile, “As the dead themselves, I'll bring it up Monday when we are talking the seasonal menu change.”

You believe him.

He removed the brownies from the oven and they were set on a wire baking tray to cool as you both continued in on your dinner. The wine was mostly gone, the conversation lively and Buddy felt insanely good. He made sure to save some room for dessert and with dishes soaking in the sink you cut a few brownies and put them on a small plate to split, the pair of you ended up on the couch, sitting side saddle and facing each other.

Buddy has craved this kind of thing, domestic life, a serious relationship, real connection and romance, someone who got him. But even when he pined for all that he would see couples who feed each other and thought that it was too corny to ever be possibly enjoyable, even with the right person.

And yet.

Just like with many things throughout your time together, you had proved him wrong. You were holding out a warm piece of brownie between your fingers, almost crumbling from how moist it was, melty chocolate chips studded throughout and a nearly unbearably crispy top, the perfect dessert held out and offered in the hand of his favourite person, a dream.

“You gonna just look at it or are you gonna eat it?” You ask in a teasing tone, a joke harks back to one of your first dates where he ended up admiring you soaked and exposed self before going down on you for the first time. It broke the tension and made you both laugh until his tongue was halfway inside you and that was replaced with a series of moans and curses.

Currently however, he scoffs before he leaned in and took a bite, this time he does moan indulgently, the flavour, the texture, he thinks he has never made a better dessert. He is sure it is because you did it together.

“So?” You ask, excited and extra hopeful because you insisted you use your recipe and he nodded, a swipe of his pink tongue over his plump bottom lip to catch the stray mess of chocolate before he said, “Astounding. You sure you don’t wanna open a bakery?”

“Pffft, and you do know we would be on even more opposite schedules than we already are right? When would we see each other?” You ask and he said like it was plain as day, “I’d come work for you, duh.”

“You think you can work under me, Buddy?” You ask and he says, “On top of, under, beside, however you want me.”

You giggle and he has taken the plate and is holding out a piece for you and you take him up on it. You bite down and holy shit yes they came out so good. You might have worried he talked them up or oversold to spare your feelings but they were fucking incredible. A hand covering your mouth you say, “Wow you weren’t bullshitting!”

“You think I was bullshitting?” He asked a bit too loudly with a sly grin and you shrug and say, “I mean, you’ve been known to bullshit.”

“I have dabbled in bullshit, true, but never with you!” The admission is very sweet and yet you crave more sugar still, insatiable you take another bite and notice the smears of melted chocolate on his fingers and without a second thought your tongue laps some of it up. The response is immediate, eyebrows raise, smile falls just slightly as his breath catches and you pull back, you hold up your hand still full of delectable dessert, “Before it gets cold Buddy.”

He nods with a laugh and leans in, holding your gaze he takes another bite and just like you there is mess and he just like you, moves to dutifully clean it up. But unlike you he is more thorough, his portion is mostly done, all that is left is sticky spots and crumbles of crumbs, in his haste and eagerness over how delicious it was he finished his square much faster, meaning he sets to properly tending to your fingers. His non-messy hand is on your wrist, holding you still as his tongue lathes up one finger before sliding down the other side, he draws them into his mouth, he sucks, he indulges in you until you are clean and he is high on you and the brownie in his hand is back on the plate before it is shunted to the coffee table next to the couch. You and he are kissing, the taste of your shared effort from baking passed between your lips and tongues. The soft moans radiate into the space between heated kisses and it gets much messier from there.

How he used his mouth on you while staring into your eyes had such a strong effect on you, not dissimilar from how it is when he meets your gaze while he is touching you, his hand in your damp underwear. His tongue on your fingers shouldn’t do that but it does, it makes your clit throb, when he sucks it makes you clench around nothing and you break up the heated make out to beg, “Buddy, need you-”

That is all he needs to hear.

You get your pants off, throw them aside and he helps with your shirt before you do the same, his own t-shirt discarded and his comfortable sweatpants are yanked down so they are around his knees before you are straddling him. You slide him inside yourself with one solid downward motion and you share a moan. You are slick, tight, so hot. His hands go to your back, his hand still messy from before is leaving smudges marks of sweetness against your skin but you need him far too much to complain or care. You roll your hips and he does the same, arcing up into you, fucking upwards to meet your downwards strokes, the pace slow and deliberate.

He is looking up at you, the way your head tips back, exposing your throat, the rise and fall of your chest, he revels in the feeling of your nails biting into his shoulders as he moves with you. It isn’t so much outright fucking as it is a series of slow grinds with your whole bodies, you lead it, abuse your sweetest spots with perfect precision, just the right angles to find your bliss, he is transfixed by you. All the moans, sharp breaths, shudders and trembles.

“Oh my God.” He breathes and you hum, eyes opening halfway he meets your gaze, his hands draw you closer, nearly chest to chest, so much skin on skin contact he tells you, “You’re fucking stunning.”

You laugh lightly, “Thanks Buddy-” He cuts you off, his mouth latches onto your neck, he kisses fervently, overtaken by the moment and his feeling for you, he gets out between kisses and nips against your sensitive skin, “No I mean it, you’re gorgeous. I fucking love you-”

He rolls his hips harder, he hadn't counted on the first time he said it would be while he is inside you, but it feel right, he doesn't regret it. You cry his name out and he feels it bares repeating and so he does, the three words matching the pace of his thrusts, every time he bottoms out another moan is dragged from you, “-I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You pick up the pace, harder, faster, matching him, heart hammering, slamming yourself down on him quicker, you gasp out as you clench down on him, just as swept up in the moment, you return the sentiment, “I love you too!”

It sneaks up on him unexpectedly, he curses, his head thrown against the back of the couch he moans your name, a final push upwards of his hips he buries himself all the way inside and he cums. It is one of those climaxes that he feels down to his bones, it sits in his marrow, makes him curl his toes in the living room carpet and bite his bottom lip so hard he might make himself bleed. It lasts longer than usual, your hands locking around his wrists and lifting his hands so he isn’t holding you down into place you ride him, bounce up and down, just so half of him is slipping in and out, quick, swallow, forcing yourself to clench all the while to draw out his orgasm and his eyes squeeze shut as he groans before finally when he starts nearly whimpering from overstimulation you relent.

You sit with him buried inside of you, still once more and his hands reach out, coming to the back of your neck he leans forward and tugs you to meet him in the middle. He kisses you deeply, his tongue slips into your mouth and he no longer tastes like the treat you made, he just tastes like him. You return the affection, breathless and when you clench on him once more he gasps and his head jerks back and you laugh, “Awe, what’s the matter?”

You make yourself do it again and ask, “This?” And he groans, “Yes! That, fuck, s’ almost too much.”

“Oh only almost?” You ask with a grin, your hands slip up from his shoulders, up his neck and into those soft and sweat soaked curls. You tug and pull him nearer, you kiss him and he gives you just as much energy in return.

This time you break it and ask, "So. You love me?"

"I do. I love you so fucking much." He admits and you reaffirm. I love you too."

The moment hangs and he wants to linger in it always until you ask, once again pulling him into the current moment with you, “So what now?”

He shakes your hands off, they come to your waist and he pulls you up, he slips out of you with a wince and sets you down onto the couch next to him before he starts to move. You were about to question before he started to slide down, his knees resting on the floor, his hands on your inner thighs, fingers stroking affectionately. Your gaze follows his, coming to land right between your legs, to your well fucked but still unsatisfied cunt and he tells you just want he wanted to do. “I wanna clean up.”

His hands move so they are high enough that his thumbs spread open your lips, showing off the leaking mess and mix of you and him, he curses and then leans down, his tongue laps up you from hole to clit and you arch with an ample moan. Your hand ends up back in his curls, “You always make such a mess Buddy.”

He hums in acknowledgment, his eyes falling closed he focuses on the two fold task at hand of disposing of the leaking mess and making you cum, he pulls back only briefly, “Not the only one I’m plannin’ on making tonight but you know me, I always clean up my messes.”

That was true. Dishes could wait till later on, right now you just wanted to indulge with him and as he sucks on your clit sloppily you are confident you don’t have the ability to do anything but just that very thing.

#HOOO #ENJOY #Slasher x reader #Buddy Swanson X reader #BHF writing

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bisexual-horror-fan · 2 years ago

Note

BEX!!! Congratulations on hitting 3000! That's fan-FUCKING-tastic...and very much well-deserved.

Now, I'm not here to send you a request, because I'm sure you've already received quite a few by now...but I'd like to take the chance to lovingly (and lustfully) remind you and the fandom of something left...unfinished...something we've talked about recently...a continuation of your sinfully short fic, 'Three Against One'...

'Multi-May' or no 'Multi-May'...this foursome needs to happen...at some point...

I can wait...you know I *adore* anticipation...

Hello Kelly! Day three of Multi-May which means that we have a re-vision of my old fic, Three Against One! Thank you for the excuse to do this, I wanted to do the same thing with Lessons In Faking It because this is gonna get a sequel and finally get that foursome we have all been craving. Plus I have always wanted to expand this, I added 1.5K to the OG and cleaned and changed this up, hope you all dig this updated version and get hyped for the later entry! Also, the council in The Boiler Lounge has made the decision that Sam Wescott and Buddy Swanson and Leslie Vernon’s polyam ship is called Mourning Wood. Enjoy that and this fic.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 4.5K. Sam Wescott And Buddy Swanson AND Leslie Vernon X AFAB! Reader. They/Them Pronouns. Warnings: Established Relationship. Vacation. Road Trip. Semi-Public To Public Hookups. Exhibitionism. Movie Spoilers. Some Fluff. Strap On Mention. Teasing. Dirty Talk. Buddy Is An Asshole But We Love Him. Threesome. Voyeurism. Outdoor Sex. Stalking. Threat Of Violence. Implied Foursome.

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Three Against One. Again.

—

It was going to be your birthday soon.

Your two boyfriends wanted to do something special for that, they asked what you wanted and upon discussing it you all realised you had some paid vacation time that needed to be spent before the year was up or you would lose it. You thought long and hard about it and came to the conclusion of partaking in a road trip together. You have always had a thing for the macabre and spooky, I mean look at who you were dating, when the secrets about them came out it didn’t scare you off, no, you stuck around happily.

So the purpose of said road trip was to visit a bunch of supposedly haunted locations and do some urban exploring and camping. Buddy was of course very excited about the prospect of this, he hadn’t really done a road trip with anyone else, he did one once, technically, when fleeing Canada post the events of Centre Stage but obviously that one wasn’t very fun. Clutching his barely bandaged wounds with one hand while he drove with the other, leaking blood badly as he drove a stolen car away in desperation of escaping his old life wasn’t a good time.

After he got patched up properly in a gas station bathroom, wrapping hastily bought gauze around his ribs and stomach under flickering lights, he was back in the car. He made the long drive to accept that fateful job at Camp Clear Vista where he met you and Sam wasn’t great either, it was lonely. Even if it did end up leading to the best summer of his life.

He and Camillia always talked about doing a road trip together, seeing some of the other provinces before settling down and opening that restaurant they always talked about. Taking a roadtrip with you and Sam sounded amazing and long overdue, he could hardly wait.

Sam would normally be just as excited, he took a road trip with Chuck once to visit a creepy wax museum she heard about and that was a good time, but that was different. Seeing something that is so obviously fake and an attraction, a controlled and safe environment but what you wanted to do was see some more “real” stuff, it made him nervous. The rest sounded great, long hours in the car, talking and listening to music, trying new food, camping out together, he just wasn’t that excited about the decidedly scary nature you wanted everything to take.

He tried to hide this. He did so poorly.

Sam Wescott was good at a lot of things, chopping wood, taking care of kids, starting a fire, hiding his emotions was not chief among them. His nerves were the most noticeable when you were all packing up the car, he had already agreed, you all took the time off, were gearing up to leave and he was chewing his bottom lip nervously, clearly lost in thought.

Buddy used this as a perfect opportunity to come up behind him, throw an arm around his shoulder, hooking around him, opposite hand resting on his chest as he leaned in close, “Awe Sammy baby, you look tense, what’s up?” Classic Buddy, the way he cooed that so easily and teasingly to Sam.

Sam turned his head, caught Buddy’s gaze, “Oh uh, sorry Buddy, just um…Thinking is all.” You rolled your eyes as you finally closed the trunk, coming over to Buddy and Sam as you say, “You are always thinking Sam, thinking way too much.”

“I agree, you gotta turn that brain off sometimes! It’s gonna be a great time man, relax.” Buddy’s hands rested on Sam’s shoulder next, giving a reassuring squeeze, and you backed him up, “Seriously, it is gonna be awesome. Calm down.”

You had slid right in front of him, you were holding Sam’s hands as you looked up at him and he let out a sigh, conceding.

“Yeah, yeah you’re right. Sorry, I know it’s gonna be a lotta fun.” Buddy pressed a kiss to his cheek and said, “Atta boy! Now come on, let’s hit the road, you got the first driving shift.”

And so off you all went and as soon as you were an hour into the trip Sam was wondering what he was so worried about. This was great, you next to him and Buddy in the back, alternating playing some of your music and talking, it felt good, felt right and relaxing, very needed, time away from all the bullshit stress of normal life and just being with his two favourite people.

“No, no, I am vetoing this-” Buddy argued as he held up the CD case of the disc you were trying to load into the player of the car’s dash, you ask, “What? You only get one veto a day and you are using it now? On fucking ABBA?”

Buddy shoved the case into your hand and sat back saying, “Yes I am vetoing ABBA, we are not listening to Super Trooper before ten in the morning.”

Sam couldn’t stop the smile that crossed his face, looking over to the pair of you playfully bickering about what CD to listen to in place of the one Buddy smacked down. Yeah, this was going to be a good trip.

You of course felt the same way. It was all great and you had a fun time on your first few stops, Sam even giving it up that it wasn’t bad doing it with you both. He still insisted on holding one of your hands while you wandered around some burnt out building but you and Buddy didn’t mind, and only handed out minimal teasing for it too.

The stopping at different restaurants Buddy had picked out while planning your route was thoroughly enjoyable for all of you, his pre-trip research paid off and you all ate at some great hole in the wall joints.

Staying in the occasional motel when the weather was bad enough that setting up camp for the night wasn’t feasible did end up happening a few times. The first time you checked into one a few days into the trip, Buddy dropped his duffle bag by the door, whipped off his rain soaked windbreaker, tossing it aside and then leaping at the bed and before you or Sam could question his enthusiasm it became all too clear. Leaning on one hand and the other rested on his hip he asked, in an intentionally comical pose, “What do you think? Is the bed big enough that you could both fuck me at the same time comfortably?”

You dropped your own bag as Sam scoffs, “I doubt it, look at you man! You’re what, like 6’3?”

Buddy cuts in, “6’2 actually-”

“Right, I’m worried about you being able to sleep comfortably on the thing, forget getting fucked.” You interject asking, “And how are we supposed to do that, exactly?”

Buddy gasped, “No! Don’t tell me you forgot the strap-on!” You and Sam were already cracking up as he carried on, somehow still able to joke like this after hours in the car, “Oh my God, well, the vacation is called off.” He rolled off the bed and headed for the bathroom before you or Sam had even caught your breath.

Once clean and settled down you were cuddled up in a bed just a bit too small for three, all tangled limbs and being impossibly close was cosy. The many other nights spent in the tent together, all having employed that trick Sam learned for zipping multiple sleeping bags together to make one big enough for three, were Sam’s favourites.

Not to mention all of the illicit hooking up. In that tent you and Sam and Buddy caught up, mid-make-out, one of his hands between your legs and with Buddy’s between Sam’s, feverish passing back and forth and hands all busy.

In or rather on the car, you bent over the hood with Buddy behind you and Sam watching, his own hand busy while you are all under the stars.

In alleyways next to bars or restaurants you just paid patronage to, and one really risky one in the handicap stall of a bathroom in a diner, you nearly got caught and after the person left without detecting you, the rest of said hookup finished safely back in your tent at the camp you set up.

Exploring and hiking was fun, you were all safe and doing it together, some of the locations you wanted to scope out were really cool and you brought along your camera, got some great pictures. Sam confessed while you were all at the highest point of a trail you’d just walked, looking down at the picturesque woods, that this was the best vacation he ever had and was glad you and Buddy pushed him to do this. He was happy, nerves totally forgotten.

Until the day of your actual birthday. The big stop this had been leading up to, you wanted to stop in Glen Echo and check out the Vernon farm. Initially Sam was excited about it, a farm, how nice and quaint, you even mentioned there was an apple orchard, apple picking sounded awesome.

You all pulled up and you seemed so giddy, you practically bolted from the car.

He didn’t realise why you were so excited about it until you all started walking around and you began enthusiastically explaining the history of the farm and about who used to live here. Big gestures of your hands as you went and explained about Leslie and the documentary and everything.

You walked about the grounds, rattling off what you knew, taking stops along the way to expound further, “And he would fuck with the branches of the trees so if anyone made an attempt to get down from the second floor they would break-” Buddy would, “Ooo-” appropriately and Sam’s face would lose a little more colour.

The walk continued, you giving as much detail as possible and Buddy nodded along, still smiling, clearly loving how passionate and happy you were to be here, even chiming in on what he thought was particularly interesting and cool.

Sam got more and more nervous as you all walked around. Funny thing considering his own past but that wasn’t him, not REALLY, it was the Wood Carver’s mask who possessed him, under normal circumstances he would never do what happened back then.

You finally were all standing in front of the burnt remains of the cider house, “And then Tayor apparently crushed his head with the cider press and set the whole building ablaze!”

Buddy was impressed, saying in response, “Damn. See the more you talk about this Taylor the more I like her, she sounds really tough.”

“Right?! She’s the coolest!” You exclaimed and Buddy looked over to the third and much more quiet one in your group.

Buddy nudged you, your head turning as Sam chimed in asking, “So Leslie is dead, right?”

You and Buddy stared at him for a moment, his eyes forward, nervous look clear on his face, surely his mind going a mile a minute, and then you and Buddy shared a look of your own, a small smirk from you, a raise of his eyebrows and you are on the same page. You say, “Well that is what they SAY but his body went missing.”

Buddy put on an air of faux concern as he said, clearly playing it up, hands coming up to his face, “Oh no, his body went missing?!”

You stifled a giggle and leaned closer into Sam who was going just a little pale, “Never recovered it to this day. We think we are alone here but who knows!”

That is when Buddy asked excitedly, “So you wanna camp here tonight, yeah? Spend the night?” You agreed immediately and enthusiastically, arms out stretched, “Oh yeah of course!”

Sam glanced at you, eyes wide, “You really want to? You sure you don’t wanna maybe stay at that B and B we saw on the way into town?”

“Very sure Sam.” You confirmed with a confident nod and Buddy was saying then, more playfully, clapping your shared boyfriend on the shoulder, “C’mon Sam it’s their birthday and they wanna stay at the creepy murder farm.”

“Yeah Sam! I wanna stay at the creepy murder farm!” You agree and he sighs heavily.

“Sorry I am not that enthusiastic about spending the night where several people were killed-” Buddy cocked his head to the side as he fired back with, “And yet we keep on returning to Camp Clear Vista every year.”

Sam had to give him that. He knew there was no winning against Buddy’s stubbornness along with your birthday wish so he agreed, tone a mix of frustration and resignation, “Alright, we should unpack and set up camp before it gets dark.”

“Hell yes! Thank you Sammy.” You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips and Buddy parroted what you said, smiling as his hand came up and ruffled Sam’s short hair in the way he knew bugged him, “Yeah thanks Sammy!”

Sam swatted Buddy away but he was smiling now, clearly fond.

So the rest of the afternoon was dedicated to setting up the camp.

You chose a place in between the barn and the apple orchard, you dug the fire pit, Buddy put up the tent, and Sam, taking a fallen tree he had found, managed to split some of it up to make some logs for you all to sit on around the fire as well as using it for some actual fire wood. It was nice but Sam still seemed nervous, kept looking like something was off, even with the axe in his hands. You and Buddy did your best to distract him but it didn’t seem to be working very well.

Hours later, it was after dinner, the fire was going and it was dark out.

You and Buddy had run to the car to get a bag of marshmallows to roast for dessert and on the way back to the fire you spoke up, “We gotta get Sam to chill out.”

Buddy sighed “God, right? He is going full Wescott right now.” You laugh but smack him on the shoulder, “Okay well don’t say that to him, you know he hates when you say that shit.”

“Well maybe if he didn’t go Wescott so often then we wouldn’t have had to attach his name to it-” You give him an unimpressed look, “Hilarious Buddy, truly, but c’mon, we need to help the guy out not make this worse.”

He groans and you sing-song out, “It’s my birthday-”

“I’m just messing around, you’re right, we should help not hurt, I will be nice.” He concedes, both hands up and you say, “Thank you cream puff.”

He gags and then says, “Oh my fucking God, what was that about being nice and not doing things your boys hate?”

“Ha, I said not doing things Sam hates, and what, you don’t like my pet names?” You ask and he says, “They are just soooo overly cutesy and sickeningly sweet-”

“Come on Buddy bon-bon baby, lighten up.” You tease and he stops walking, “I will vomit, right here.”

“No you won’t, not after you worked so hard on that dinner.” You say and he hangs his head before starting to walk again, “You’re right again, stop being right all the time.”

“Nope, it’s my birthday, I’m allowed.” You assert and then ask, “So how are we fixing this for him?”

Buddy hums, head coming up and after a moment he grins, looking over to you, “Overwhelm him?”

“Oh I love how you think.”

Your goal is to get him out of his head and relax, let him enjoy the evening as much as you had both been. The approach is easy, made sure he could hear you coming, didn’t want to frighten him further and you sat down next to him and he was quick to say, “I swear to God I heard something just now.”

Buddy sat on the other side of him, too close, pressing Sam between you and him as he said, “Uh yeah man, probably us.”

Sam scoffed, “No not you two, when you were outta earshot I could have sworn I heard someone, out there-” He gestured out the orchard and you shrugged, “Probably an animal or something. Don’t worry about it.”

That is when you made your move, leaning in, one hand to Sam’s cheek, pulling him closer and your mouth meeting his neck, you beginning to kiss makes his sentence stop short while Buddy’s hand sliding up his inner thigh made his breath catch already and you said into his skin, “What did we tell you Sam?”

A lick over his pulse point and a soft bite that made him tense under your touch and he stuttered out, “I’ll uh, be honest. I can-can’t really remember at the moment-”

You are busy with your task but you can picture his expression right now, brows furrowed, eyes closed and lips parted, totally swept up and thoroughly him and adorable, it makes you smile against his throat.

Buddy was there backing you up the way you usually did for him, “That you need to relax. Turn off that brain-” Buddy’s hand was between Sam’s legs now, palming his already hardening dick through his shorts as he added on, “-we can help you with that.”

It did sound appealing. He still had nerves and reservations but as you and Buddy both worked him over, hands roaming and wandering, tugging at his clothing, you kissing and biting his neck and Buddy’s fingers under Sam’s chin tilting him to give him a lazy and slow kiss on the mouth, definite heat behind it? Sam slowly started to let go, moaning into the kiss and returning it.

You and Buddy should have heeded Sam’s warnings, should have listened. Sam’s nervousness has validity to it, you weren’t alone and hadn’t been all day, he was right there, watching you. He was taking his time, he was used to the occasional gawkers and you three seemed harmless so he hadn’t done anything yet.

He thought you were all rather bold setting up camp for the night, he had every intention of stepping in and having some fun of his own but he didn’t expect such a show. The three of you had been really close and touchy sure but he didn’t think it was like this, that you were all together. He was interested. Honestly your timing couldn’t have been better, he was going to make his move right before you made yours and now he couldn’t stop watching.

Leslie had a thing for watching, a definite and total textbook voyeur, couldn’t help how hard he got off on it. You had already caught his eye earlier, so now seeing you making a move to get on your knees, starting to undo the shorts to get what you really wanted, about to start putting your mouth to good use, of course he wanted to stay quiet and see how this unfolded.

He watched as that curly haired man, Buddy, he overheard, was pulling back, one hand in the other man, Sam’s, hair as he started to whisper what he was certain were filthy things in his ear.

Leslie watched the way Sam flushed, lifting his hips to help you slide his shorts down, he couldn’t look away as you took his cock in your hand, leaning in, giving what looked to be a loving lick over the head before it disappeared between your lips. You started to take more, slide him in deeper, your hand around the base starting to stroke and he could hear the groan Sam let out, watched as Buddy’s head tilted back with a laugh.

You didn’t blow him for long before Buddy was whispering something to Sam, a grin on his face and finally that pulls his gaze from you between his legs to the other man sitting next to him, a nod, and the look of near awe and affection overtakes when he drops to his knees at your side to join in. Fuck, you and he shared him and that was something else. So they weren’t just sharing you, no, it seems like you all share each other.

The view was so good that Leslie couldn’t help palming himself through his overalls, couldn’t help coming closer, wanted to get a better look, hear some of what you were all saying. You were all distracted. He was able to manage it even more easily than normal.

By the time he was close enough, you had your fingers in Buddy’s curls, pushing him down so he was swallowing more of Sam’s cock and you said, “God, can’t he take it just so well? Almost puts me to shame.”

Sam lets out this delicious sounding moan, a small nod, still just mesmerised by the view in front of him. Gasping out, “So-so good.”

He rocked his hips up once and looked so lost in the feeling of it. He looked overwhelmed, Leslie wondered if what he said next was because he was sweet, concerned and selfless or trying to stave off cumming too fast with two talented mouths working over him. “We should be focusing on you, it’s your birthday right?”

“The man has a point.” You agree and Buddy was pulling off Sam’s dick with a wet pop and a nod, “He is right, we should be focusing on you.”

And just like that the attention was turned to you.

The speed is impressive, the way they worked together on you still had a way of taking you by surprise. They shared you exceptionally well and after so long were able to move together with you with total ease. You were pulled into Sam’s lap, he was kissing you and had his hands up your shirt in short order and Buddy was pressed behind you, his hands working on getting into your pants and you looked really damn good in that moment.

Your eyes falling closed, pressing closer to one and then the other, allowing yourself to bask in their attention, letting yourself to freely express how they made you feel, soft moans and gasping breaths, calling out their respective names in utter reverence as they pleasured you. Sam’s tongue in your mouth, Buddy had a hand in your shorts and was obviously fingering you, whispering more filth into your ears. Sam had only paused making out with you to get your shirt and bra off, tossing them aside, his hands and mouth working in tandem on your newly exposed chest. Hands cup, thumbs brush over your nipples in between indulgent sucks. This live show has Leslie’s overalls feeling far too tight.

Buddy is speaking up louder, Leslie is treated to this exchange, “Fuck, Sam, can you hear how wet they are?”

Sam pulls back, a breathy laugh, “I sure can, how you feeling?” He asks and you nod, “Mm, good, real good, ha-harder?”

“Yeah I can do that for you.” Buddy’s arm picks up the pace, your hips buck and you moan much louder, crying out a thank you and Sam’s mouth is latched back onto you.

You were squirming and moaning, grinding yourself between them and it looked like it was going to keep escalating, Leslie is convinced that you would be getting fucked out in the open by the both of them at once and fuck, it was too much.

Leslie moved quietly and carefully, and came around the fire so slowly, sickle at the ready. When he was right behind Buddy he moved forward. Sickle slices through the air, metal came down and lodged in the wood log Sam was seated on, it made the three of you jump, a frantic look and as soon as your eyes fell to him you said, “Leslie?”

Of course you recognized him. He was leaning against the handle of his sickle still stuck in the wood, stance was very casual as he said, “Hey. Hear you are a big fan. How are you enjoying your stay?”

To say you were taken aback was an understatement. Total shock, not sure what to respond with, Leslie would be lying if he said he didn’t find that at least a little bit cute, how much he got the drop on you. “Well?”

He prompted and you swallowed, Sam’s hands were covering your tits now, shielding you before you were saying, “Uh good? Real, uhm, real good.”

“Yeah I was gonna say, looks like you are all having a really good time.” He leaned down, his face much closer to yours, his eyes were interesting, full of something you wished you could define but can’t, maybe you were too shocked, his smile is however undeniably mischievous. Leslie speaks again, “So much fun I wanted to give you an offer.”

“An offer?” Buddy inquired, confused, clearly his own mind reeling and trying to contend with all this, and Leslie continued, “Yeah. See I was going to have a good time with you three tonight until you started doing all of this-”

He ripped his sickle up, you all jump and he laughs, he gestures to you with his weapon of choice, still half dressed in Sam’s lap, the three of you still pressed pretty closely together, “-but I gotta say that you all present a much better option, one that doesn’t come around here often.”

You picked up what he was putting down immediately. A phrase you had seen once before clear in your mind, fuck to survive.

The thing is you would have been down even without the potential threat of violence, although considering your choice in partners, the threat helps rather than hurts. Leslie is playing with the sickle, fingering the end of it as he is looking you all over, clearly enjoying the dynamic at hand, the power he holds in this moment, the potential of the night spread before you all. “Besides, I think it is awfully gauche to kill someone on their birthday, right?”

Gauche or not all you could think was how you were about to get simultaneously wrecked and spoiled all at once. Happy fucking birthday to you. A verbal response wasn’t what you have, what you did do was reach out, fingers caught in the torn collar of his shirt and you pulled him forward and down, giving your consent with your mouth in a different but entirely welcome fashion.

Sam was wrong, it was gonna be a good night, you could tell.

#Mourning Wood #BHF asks #Multi-May #Darklylucid #Slasher x reader #Sam Wescott X reader #Buddy Swanson X Reader #Poly!Camping Boys x reader #BHF writing

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bisexual-horror-fan · 1 year ago

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Tentatively Tending To Trauma. Poly!Camping Boys X FEM! AFAB! Reader. Chapter One: "Best Summer Ever?"

Oh my God! So! I know! Already?! First chapter of the new baby, the new long fic! Tentatively Tending To Trauma! This is going to be not only the first but THE poly!Camping Boys long fic, seriously, watch out! This is going to be the building of a triad from the ground up. All my other polyam fics have an established relationship that the reader comes into, but this one is the first to have everyone coming into this fresh and new. This will have fun, fluff, angst, hurt, comfort and yes, cuz it is me, smut. Buckle up and lets get into it! The best summer ever!

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Rating. SFW. Length. 4K. Eventual Sam Wescott/Buddy Swanson X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Movie Spoilers. Set After Stage Fright AND You Might Be The Killer. Nothing Heavy This Chapter. Road Trip. Setting The Table. Camping Fun Incoming. Light Drinking. Some Teasing. Buddy Already Ripping On Theater Kids. Shout Out To Steve The Kayak King.

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A lot of people say that New Years is the best time for a fresh start, one year ends, another begins and the slate is wiped clean. You used to be one of those people who thought that too but after one too many rocky January’s you cannot abide by that any longer. The first half of this year had been complete bullshit and you were over it, so, so over it. Why does January first have to be the one time of year things can change and start over? Why can’t you tie it to something else? March to the beat of your own drum?

You needed a change, desperately and you can’t wait till another Christmas has come and gone. You think why can’t the change of seasons signify great change in your own life? Summer was around the corner and why not use this to try and course correct your year? To fix everything wrong thus far and launch the remainder of the current three hundred and sixty five days into a better place?

This is what you need. After some heavy examination you think back to when the best times in your life were, tried and true things you could cling to, what could be reintroduced into your life to help you heal? One thing stands head and shoulders above the rest. Summer camp.

You have had a lot of shitty and outright bad things in your life but summer camp? Getting away from it all, being around people who you didn’t see in the typical day to day, outdoors in the fresh air, ample physical activity, you think it might be just right. You had some of the best times of your life at camp but now you were an adult, why not give back? You could do your best to give kids like you once were a good summer, revisit some of your old good times and forage new ones. A new setting to sink into this change was perfect. You go on the hunt, hoping not every summer camp in the area has been filled up.

All the positions at the closest ones had been snapped up, lots of returning people, so no slots free for you but you didn’t give up so easily, you ended up finding a want ad for a camp hours and hours away from your town and that was even better honestly.

A full break away to forget your troubles and put your time and energy into healing. You applied, breezed through the phone interview process and so you quit your current job and packed your car and headed off for just shy of three months of working at Camp Clear Vista in Louisiana. You arrived right when you were supposed to but still were one of the first people to get here, you got out of your car, the last stop was over an hour ago and your legs needed a good stretch.

You are reaching high above your head, trying to relieve the tenseness of your back muscles, enjoying the sun on your face and the fresh air when you hear the call of, “Hey!”

Your eyes peek back open and you look over to see a tall guy coming towards you, he was in olive green cargo pants, a blue t-shirt and a flannel thrown over top, hand raised in a wave and a smile on his face that made his nose scrunch in a rather endearing fashion. Your arms come down and you turn to face him, a wave back with a reply of, “Hello!”

He was soon right in front of you, his hand out, “I’m Sam Wescott, I run the camp.” There was a shift in expression, a slight cock of the head with a nervous laugh, “Well, I’m sure you know that-”

You take his hand and shake it, “Yeah we spoke on the phone, I’m-” And you gave him your name. You got a better look at him up close like this and realised the blue shirt was a Camp Clear Vista shirt, a small yellow design on the upper right part of his chest proclaiming the name, curved in a half circle underneath a classic looking illustration of a cartoonish flap tent. The shirt screamed nostalgia in a way that is an undeniable comfort. He had a firm handshake, strong hands and honestly, he was pretty cute.

His smile brightened considerably and he said, “Oh yes! I was impressed by your references. I am so excited you were able to come, our usual guy who handles the kayaks couldn’t come back this year.”

You raised a brow at that, particularly at the slight sadness at the mention of whoever this other guy was who was unable to return here. Also kayaks? You deal in canoes but you think maybe he misspoke so you brush it off and say, “Oh sorry he couldn’t but his loss is my gain I guess!”

You let go of his hand and he responded, “Yeah I tried calling but couldn’t reach him, I think he just took a different camp offer this year but no point in dwelling on all that. I hope you enjoy your summer here.”

Taking a quick look around, trees and lush greenery and some of the outskirts of the camp, you already felt lighter. “I think I am going to have a fantastic time.”

He looked pleased as punch to hear that. “Amazing! Well everyone else is still arriving but once they are here I am gonna take some time to show you around the boathouse and walk you through what’s expected, alright?”

“Sounds good.” You responded honestly with a nod and he gave you a low thumbs up as another car started coming into the parking lot, “Awesome, I’ll see you soon.”

You watch him jog off towards the car that just arrived to go greet whoever else.

Later on you were turning in your phone at Sam’s prompting, connecting with nature and all that and he was handing over own camp counselor shirt. You take it with one hand and a smile while giving him your phone with the other. “No fighting about the phone thing? I think I like you already.”

“Hey the whole point is to get away from it all anyway, right?” You ask and he says, “Yes! Exactly! Thank you.”

You really liked how he said things, this excitable energy that you think is infectious is permeating his body language and the words themselves and you find yourself wishing to match him. Before breaking away to let the next person in line go you say, “And just so you know I think I like you already too.”

He seemed pleased by that too and you left him to continue collecting phones and passing out shirts. You end up talking to a few other people, learning no one else has seemed to work here at this camp before, but most have camp counselling experience.

Everyone is going to be assigned to a cabin and put in charge of a group of kids. The kids in question will be staying at camp in a rotation of about a month at a time, so you will have around three batches by the time summer is done. You were talking to two other girls, Mia who was going to be doing arts and crafts and Laurie who was into woodworking, both seemed just as hyped up for the summer as you were.

You get lost in the conversation of where you are from, and what you are most looking forward to and soon Sam comes up to you, a tap on the shoulder, “Are you good for us to go check out the boathouse?”

“Yes! Absolutely.” You agree, a quick wave and goodbye to the girls and follow his lead. This is your first chance to really see the camp, he points out different parts and landmarks, “So there is the pool, the changing rooms, the main bathrooms with the showers are past that and over there, is where the kitchen and mess hall is.”

“Oh yeah I had meant to ask about that, what is the food situation?” You asked and he said, “Meals are provided naturally, we have this guy who is going to be taking on the lead cook role with other people subbing in to be assistants as needed, Jason the lifeguard is kinda acting as a secondary cook whenever he isn’t needed and when he IS busy other people can give a hand.”

Before you could respond he tacks on, “Only if they want to of course! If you are up for it, some people are no good in the kitchen I know and can totally opt out and step up in other ways.”

“I don’t have that much serious cooking experience but if push comes to shove I can as you put it, step up.” You say honestly and he says, “Really? Thank you! This guy is supposed to be really good, he has years of experience being lead cook at a different camp so I am sure he can help guide you with whatever he needs when he needs it.”

Sounded fine to you honestly. You liked that the work was going to be shared evenly, you were going to learn some new things and gain some new skills this summer it seemed. You tell him it sounded good and that put you more at ease and then he said, “Once I walk you through this you can do whatever you want with the rest of the day, it’s already getting later in the afternoon and I like to use the first day to let people settle in.”

He tells you that you’ll get your cabin assignment shortly, can move your stuff in and then soon it’ll be dinner time, after dark there is going to be a campfire, drinks, stories and whatnot, a team building thing for everyone to get to know each other and it sounded like a fun time.

You’d arrived at the boathouse quickly, he pulls out his keys and unlocks the door, he then takes a duplicate key out and presses it into your palm, “This is the secondary key, I’m the only other person who has a copy, it’s for safety reasons, you know for-”

“The kids.” You finish with a nod and he says, “Right.”

He walked you around, there was a lot of equipment, a good set up, the boats outside on the racks looked a little worse for wear, you’d need to do some work on them to get them, no pun intended, ship shape and told him as such. You would need to do some cleaning, general prep, minor repairs and maintenance, nothing you couldn’t handle or didn’t have experience in. You have three days after today before the kids arrive to get it ready, more than enough time honestly. You told him you could handle it confidently and if you wrapped up early enough you could help out other places.

“Really?! That’s great, I knew I made the right choice picking you.” He did seem rather happy and you asked, “Yeah, so the old guy couldn’t come back?”

“Oh yeah, sadly no he couldn’t. I couldn’t get a hold of him. I’m gonna miss him this year honestly.” He said earnestly and you asked, “Oh really? Was he really good at this job?”

“He was! He was so good we all called him Steve The Kayak King. He knew his shit, was amazing with the kids. But more than that we are good friends, kinda best summer camp friends. It will feel a little strange without him is all.”

”Awe I’m sorry to hear.” You were and you offered up, “I am sure we will still have a good summer and a lot of fun.”

He brightened slightly, a nod and he said, “Oh totally we will.”

“But I am glad this worked out. A bunch of places near my hometown were already full up.”

“Oh really? You live far away?” He asked and you said, “A few hours. I drove about four and a half, five hours to get here.”

“That far?” A small drop of his jaw, “You came that far to work here?”

You shrug and say, “What can I say? I have a feeling it is an opportunity I would regret passing up.” He seemed not only impressed by that but touched too. “I can only hope that the experience lives up to expectation.”

You had a funny feeling that it will.

“I hate to run again but I am so busy making sure everyone knows what they need to do and is all set up, so I gotta go.” You tell him, “I totally understand, go on.”

You wave him off and off he goes at a light jog once more. You watch him go, your mind lingering on your conversation about Steve, the supposed Kayak King. There was something about it, how he spoke, the emotion in his eyes, Sam reads as genuine, hardworking, honest and sweet. You’ve decided right there, you totally did like him.

You make sure the boathouse is locked and you decide you need to get your stuff out of the car. It is almost three hours later, your car is unpacked, you've made it to your assigned cabin, number three, and claimed your bed, proceeding to unpack most of your belongings.

In the groove of folding and organising your clothes in the trunk that is at the end of your bed you are pulled out of it by a knock at the door alerting you it’s time for dinner. Your cabin isn’t that far from the mess hall but the walk is a welcome one, you enjoy the warm evening air and soon are seated with a tray laden with food at a table full of your fellow counselors. Before you can settle into seating there were three sharp claps that quiet the conversation.

There was a call to pay attention and your eyes are drawn up to the front of the mess hall, there stands Sam Wescott but he is not alone, with a warm smile and a gesture to the person standing with him is paired with a thank you for making the dinner you are about to enjoy with everyone else. That is the first time you lay eyes on Camp Clear Vista’s new cook, clad in jeans with his hands tucked in the pockets, and his own camp branded t-shirt, over six feet tall, blue eyes and a mop of brown hair. He has a smile that only reads as mildly uncomfortable because of how many people were looking at him, but overall relatively at ease, you learn his name is Buddy Swanson. He gives a hello with a casual wave after Sam introduces him.

“It looks great, thank you so much for making this.” Sam said sincerely with a hand on Buddy’s shoulder, he shrugs and says, “No problem man, s’ my job.”

“Still. Thank you, now uh, let’s all dig in, yeah?” And with that you all do so. Sam sits at a different table and you once again find yourself talking to everyone at your table. Mia and Laurie are near you, as well as Raymond, who was another life guard and Martin who was going to be a coach and general and activities coordinator. You were next to Martin who was telling you about how he was excited and had plans for an expedited baseball season between cabins as well as some full sports filled days that sounded like they could be a really great time.

The conversation and food was really good. Once it is all done, you are led outside to where the main fire pit is, getting into what Sam told you would happen earlier, drinks, stories and more.

You flit about, talk to some people and after your first drink and the initial round of stories are done you are between talking, a break in conversations and you notice something, Buddy is here and he is sitting more by himself. You glance around and see Sam is busy, you figure, why not. You get up and come over, drink in hand and you say, “Hey, Buddy, right?”

He looks up and says, “That’s me.” You tell him, “Great dinner.”

A slight upward quirk of his lips, “Thanks.” You hold out your hand and give him your name. He took your hand, gave it a quick shake and said, “So did I look that lonely?”

You laughed, not expecting the quick joke and said, “I have to admit you did look kinda forlorn.”

“Ouch.” He said before he brought his cup up and took a sip, you gestured next to him, “Mind if I sit?”

“Yeah sure, you gonna be nicer to me?” You take the spot to the left of him and teased, “Maybe.”

“Only maybe?” He asked and you shrugged before asking, “So why are you over here alone and not-” A gesture of your hand still cradling your drink, “-over with the herd, getting to know people, making merry?”

“Honestly?” He asked, a sideways glance to you and you affirm, “Honestly.”

“Parties aren’t really my thing, but Sam insisted I come along, said it would be good for me to get to know who I’d be working with for the next three months.” He took another drink, as did you, “I think he is right, part of this is to make new friends and connections. You against that?”

“I don’t connect with people easily.”

Your eyebrows raise and you say, “Why is that?”

His response comes quickly, “Lots of reasons.” You feel a smile creeping up on your face, “Aren’t you mysterious?”

“It’s a great trick to get people to have better opinions of me without them actually having to get to know me.” He felt a smile slipping onto his face too. “Really?”

“Yeah people usually say it as a good or a neutral thing. Isn’t he mysterious?” He said the last three words with a wave of the hand not clutching his drink, the flare and emphasis making you laugh as well as driving his point home. “Doesn’t it make people want to get to know you?”

“Not as often as you’d think.”

“Fair enough. So! How far away are you coming from?” You asked before saying, “I’m about five hours away.”

“Oh I got you beat.” He said confidently, “Yeah? How far?”

“Canada far.” He said easily and it was time for your jaw to drop, “Shut up? Another country?”

“Well I didn’t come from there just for this. Been kinda on the road for a while, job hopping since my last summer camp job.” He said more quietly and you asked, “What was your last camp job?”

He looked like he was thinking over how to respond and you asked, “What? You don’t remember or something?”

“No, no I do I just…” He takes a drink, a hearty one, finishes his cup, a harsh inhale and a shake of his head and as if gaining some bravery from that he divulges “It was a theatre camp.”

A loud laugh and asked, “Holy shit, was it that traumatic?”

“You have no idea.” He sighed and you said, “Why’s that? You don’t like theatre?”

“God no! I hate it!” He exclaimed, his head tipping back, eyes up to the starry sky and you finished your own drink, “How about we get another beer and you can tell me all about why it sucks?”

That is just what ended up happening. You and he broke off, refreshed icy cans in hand, you wander the camp ground and he proceeds to vent about his distaste for all things theatrical, which was funny considering the theartics and drama he threw into the act of expounding his displeasure. He was the lead cook for years at his last camp and told you about the bullshit and stress he had to face, how annoying and picky the theatre kids were and even further about the times he was forcibly dragged into their activities and made to see the camp's shows.

“A musical reimagining of the vagina monologues?” You asked, aghast and he groaned, one of his hands running through his curls, “A musical fucking reimagining of the vagina monologues. Have you ever been forced to sit through an annoying pitchy theatre kid belting out to the back row about the first time she genuinely moaned in a gas station on a road trip after not being able to pee for hours?! It is awful. Totally fucking traumatizing.”

“I’d lose my dinner.” You told him and he laughed, “I almost did!”

You were surprised by how fast you were clicking with him, the conversation was flowing well and you decided that yeah, you really liked him, just like you had decided earlier that you really liked Sam. The conversation calmed from its original topic, you telling him, “I’ve never worked at a camp before formally, I’ve been to a lot of summer camps though and I thought it’d be nice to give back, you know?”

He liked that. “Makes sense. And what are you going to do here?” He asked and you told him, “Canoes. I am in charge of the canoes.”

“Never been in one honestly. You’ll have to take me for a ride sometime.”

You think you will take him up on that. “I’d love to.”

The walk had taken you almost around the whole camp, between your drive and all the excitement you were tired and told Buddy as such, “Let me make sure you get back to your cabin okay.”

He walks you back and on the way you tell him, “I think you’re pretty cool Buddy. I’m looking forward to working together.”

“I am too, I’m starting to think taking this job was the right call, I’m excited for a good experience working at a camp.” He said with a sigh and you said, “I am sure the kids here will be significantly less annoying than your average theatre kid.”

“I am sure there will be a lot less complaining about food with cheese in it as well as random breaking into song and I’ll happily take that.” Buddy said clinking his can against yours and you say, “Cheers, I’ll drink to that.”

You and he both finish the last dregs of your drinks as you come upon your cabin. “This is me.”

“Number three, eh? I’ll keep that in mind.” He says and you respond, “Sure, swing by anytime.”

He nods starts to step away telling you, “Have a good night.”

You tell him, “You too and hey. Buddy?”

“Yeah?” He stopped, a look over his shoulder to you, “I'm glad I am your first friend at camp but don’t let me be your only one. Okay?”

He looks a bit surprised by what you said but tells you, brows furrowed slightly with a small nod and a confused smile, “Sure. Okay.”

“Promise?” You asked with a grin and he laughed, smile broadens and his eyes while still slightly confused are warm, lighter, “Okay, okay, fuck, I promise I won’t be antisocial this summer.”

“Good! Apologise to Sam for me turning in early.” You ask and he says with a wave “Can do. Night.”

“Night.” You call and then retreat into your cabin. Buddy walked off, heading back towards where the main campfire was and thinking about how strange it was that you got under his skin so quickly, he was already making promises to you? It was strange but also, nice, a good change of pace. He hasn’t gotten even remotely close to another person in around a year, it is probably time he did. He couldn't be alone forever, it wasn’t feasible or realistic.

Everyone needs a friend.

You were getting ready for bed, feeling tired but happy, you had one thought in your head when you were drifting off to sleep, a small but hopeful one of, “Could this be my new best summer ever?”

#Tentatively Tending To Trauma #TTTT #BHF writing #IT IS HERE #NEW LONG FIC #Poly!Camping Boys x reader #Sam Wescott X reader #Buddy Swanson X reader #slasher x reader

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bisexual-horror-fan · 2 years ago

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"No One's Gonna Harm You." Buddy Swanson/Metal Killer X AFAB! Reader.

We re-watched Stage Fright (2014) in the Boiler Lounge and I miss Buddy and The Metal Killer so fuck it! Here I am doing this! It has been coming for a while and I hope you all enjoy it, some fluff, some angst, some smut, it’s got it all really, self indulgent and needed, lets go!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 5.1K. Buddy Swanson/Metal Killer X AFAB! Reader. No Pronouns Specified. Warnings: Stage Fright Spoilers. Fluff. Banter. Emotions. Trauma. Mentions Of Assault And Coercion. Chase. Murder. Blood Play. Emotional Confession. Fingering. Vaginal Sex. Dirty Talk. Rough Sex. Confession Of Feelings. Begging. Forced Orgasm. Cream Pie. Cunnlingus. Mild Overstimulation. Roger Sucks. Artie Getz Sucks.

—

Roger McCall was a weird dude.

You never liked him. When you first showed up to Centre Stage and were introduced you decided very quickly that something was off about him and you steered clear. Whenever he came around you would do your best to leave soon after and make yourself scarce, you had better things to focus on, other things you’d rather be doing anyway. Namely, a certain camp cook you had been shamelessly flirting with all summer long, Buddy was cute, funny, biting, sarcastic and an all around good time. He would write your name on your cup along with a joke every day, he would sneak you extra dessert and would talk while you lingered behind in the mess hall, speaking across tables that he was collecting messy trays, abandoned by your fellow campers without care.

“Don’t you have a class you should be getting to?” He inquired, expression light despite him picking up the truly disgustingly food-caked orange tray, moving it into the current stack he was working on and you fired back, “Shouldn’t you have these dishes done and be prepping lunch?”

You and he stare each other down over the three tables between you and him. The tension was going to kill you at this rate, a dance wondering who was going to make the first real move. The silence is broken but the eye contact is maintained as he says, “Seems we both have things we should be doing.”

“Seems like.” You said as you made yourself get up, you walked over, handed him your tray with a question of, “I’ll see you at lunch?”

“You will.” He affirms as he takes it from you, a small brush of your fingers makes you smile wider before stepping backwards, towards the door, eyes on him still, you ask. “What are we having?”

“You’re just gonna have to wait. Don’t let the suspense kill you now.” He teased and you threw both hands over your chest dramatically, as if you had been shot, as you continued your backwards walk to the exit. “I don’t know how I shall ever make it but for you? I’ll try.”

A fond roll of his eyes, head tossed back as he jokes, “So brave, your sacrifice won’t go unnoticed. Now get outta here! Go build a set or something.”

“Bye Buddy.” You called as you turned, finally close enough to the doors you pushed them open and set out.

You found yourself thinking of him all the time. In class, while walking the grounds, doing just about anything.

Even when you were actually set building, Artie Getz behind you, complaining that the text on the outside of the theatre set didn’t look “oriental” enough, (whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean), you were thinking of Buddy. Ignoring Artie Getz and his fucking racist bullshit was no easy task but your attraction to him outweighed your hate for the faux leather tribly wearing asshole you were all forced to call director.

The small moments you stole with him meant a ton. It wasn’t like you hated camp, there were some things to be learned here, actual skills, enjoyment to be had but there was still a lot to hate. Roger and Artie are big parts of that hate, the fact that you didn’t like theatre, and to be honest you didn’t like the show, the idea of reviving Haunting Of The Opera seemed tasteless, setting it in Feudal Japan with an all white cast downright crass. You found enjoyment where you could, in hammering nails and pretending they were Artie’s stupid fucking hat covered head, in paint, in the admittedly talented kids who played instruments in the pit, in the silly fucking moments you’d see and then share quietly with Buddy.

“No way.” He laughed, a shake of his head, a bounce of those curls, you said, “Yes! Way! Liz had the worst voice crack I had ever heard and it startled Sam so bad he tripped when crossing from stage right and fell flat on his face! Broke the fucking mask in two, they need to make a new one in like less than two days for opening night-”

He had to cover his mouth with both hands, bending slightly at the waist, the pair of you laughing it up and trying to keep it down. Everyone had been served lunch and was eating but you were lingering up near the serving line, talking with him and letting your tuna melt get cold. When he did finally pull his hands away, a deep inhale, wiping at the corners of those blue eyes, crinkled at the sides from sheer joy, steeped in mirth the same way the mess hall was in mid afternoon sunlight. “Holy shit that is too good.”

Reaching out, his hands on your shoulder over the trays he said empathetically, “Thank you for sharing that.”

You feel warm at his touch and you say, “No problem. I knew you’d be the only one to properly appreciate it.”

He lets you go, you wish he wouldn’t. Camp would be ending before you knew it, once opening night happens, they do another week and a half of just shows, then clean up, tear down for half a week and then it’s over. Maybe you should make that move sooner rather than later, you had the feeling inside that if you didn’t do something about this clear thing between you both that you’d regret it. You aren’t sure you can keep waiting for him to make a move, you might just have to be the one to do it.

“You gonna keep talking to me all lunch or are you gonna eat?” He asked and you fired back with, “Aren’t you gonna eat? Actually, better question, when do you eat? I’ve never seen you eat anything.”

“I usually eat after the freaks have.” He admits and you feel a bit sad at that thought, him eating alone in the kitchen, at least previously he’d have his sister with him before she ran off to join the play. You wonder if he’s lonely, instead of asking that question you pose a different one, “You wanna eat together?”

A gasp slips out, wide eyed he exclaims, “Are you asking me out?”

You laugh, “I’m asking you to eat lunch together, not out to the four seasons.”

“I’m just busting your balls, sure, let’s eat together.” He said with an easy kind of smile and a shrug.

Lunch was nice.

You helped him round up trays after the “freaks” as he called them cleared out, the longer you spent here the more you were inclined to agree with him however. Once back in the kitchen, sitting on a prep table, sharing the food he re-heated as well as a great conversation. Legs dangling off the edge and sitting nearly hip to hip and joking about something yet again, “Did you see him earlier?”

“When he spilled on himself? Yes! Does he just own that one flesh toned leotard or does he have a bunch of them?” You asked and he said, “Well did you see him go to his cabin to get changed? What do you think?”

You made an over exaggerated gagging sound that almost made him choke from how funny it sounded coming from you, a hand over his mouth, his other hand still holding half his sandwich, “Fuck, not while I’m eating!”

“Awe c’mon now, it’s not that bad. Not like you got soda out the nose or something.” You tease and he asks, “Have you ever had that happen?”

“Oooh yeah, so there was this time in fourth grade-” And you told him and he listened excitedly. By the time you were done with lunch you felt even closer to him, emotionally, physically too, you were almost leaning on him. When he had to get to making dinner you made yourself scarce, you were already almost an hour late to class as it was but you made plans to do it again sometime soon.

In the mad dash to opening night that ended up not happening, especially when Artie Getz turned up dead. Things got lost in the shuffle and you were honestly disgusted by everyone’s behaviour and insistence for the show to go on. It was fucking appalling and you were certainly not going to do anything to help put the show on and were not going to attend it, in fact, you were going to do what you could do stop it.

Turns out your feelings about Roger were spot on.

Roger isn’t a good guy.

You tried to talk some sense into him, multiple times, he wasn’t having it and when you were trying to speak to him while the show was going on he snapped. You didn’t think he had it in him, didn’t know he could put up a chase like that. You couldn’t circle back to the playhouse and that is where EVERYONE was so what could you do with him after you, capable of God knows what?

As if drawn, hopeful, maybe he would be there and if not at least you could get your hands on a knife to defend yourself, you run towards the mess hall and most importantly, the kitchen.

You break into the backdoor, run past the sinks and towards the heart of the kitchen, you hear the door slam open, he is hot on your heels and when you are about a foot away from that big fuck off knife you wanted to get your hand on, Roger’s hand, was on you.

Hand locked on your wrist and he pulled hard, you stumbled and crashed into him, his other hand on your shoulder, “You talk, way, way too much.”

You tried to struggle, he didn’t let go, he gripped tighter and kept talking, “I knew you were a bad fit here, you aren’t like everyone else! Running your mouth all the time. Do you know how hard I’ve worked to get back to this point? I’m not going to let-”

He was hurting you, red faced and spitting and you were honestly terrified, “-some stupid, idiot, smarmy fucking camper who can’t carry a tune in a basket ruin my show coming back!”

You were stuck, there was no way you were getting out of this one, his hand lifted, he was reaching for the knives and your eyes shut tight, you waited for the first blow, reluctantly accepting your fate but instead of a stab of pain you felt a spray of warmth and hear a sound of pure agony. Your eyes shoot back open upon the sticky warmth hitting you, to see Roger standing there, seemingly shocked and his throat slashed open.

The shock hit you too, his grip was loosening and you see him next, the tall imposing figure clad in black and white, holding what looks like a saw blade with finger holes cut into it for a handle?

You were terrified, wondering if you were next, what the fuck was happening but he ripped Roger away from you, threw him to the ground. Roger was choking on his own blood, coughing, apparently the masked stranger wasn’t satisfied by that. He swung one leg over, a flourish of that long black coat, his boot falling heavy to the floor and he crouched down, got closer and with one hand fisted in Roger’s shirt, the other gripping the saw blade he wasn’t done yet.

It was brutal.

By the time he was done hacking and cutting he was heaving, bloody, that mask was stained red, droplets of it were caught in the creases and groves of the mask, the wild black hair of the mask was weighed down by sticky crimson.

You felt glued to the spot. Watching him, kneeling over Roger’s now lifeless and disfigured body, breathing heavily behind the mask. Finally, his head turned up, he looked right at you, he stood and you started to back up, “No, no, please! Don’t hurt me! I-I won’t say anythin-”

Gearing up to run away but he stood up fully, coming forward quickly, you try to move at the same speed, stumbling as you attempt it but you are still in shock, he moves quicker, drops the saw blade in his hand and calls out loudly, “Wait!”

You stop.

Eyes wide and he is less than a foot away, you weren’t sure you heard him right, that voice. You swallow thickly, tongue feels too big for your mouth, too dry and you watch black leather clad gloves push his mask up and you see it’s him. A face that is smeared with spots of blood, smudges of black makeup and sweat soaked curls come into view. He is still breathing hard, shoulders rising and falling in time with his breaths and then he speaks again, “I’d never hurt you.”

“Buddy?” You ask it so quietly, he sets the mask down and he has his hands out, holding them out in front of him to show you he wasn’t going to attempt to reach for another weapon, he eases his way to you, slow steps he asks, “Are you okay?”

A small sniff, tears welling up and you aren’t sure, you say, “I-I think so? M’ not hurt-”

Thanks to him.

You could still see it, running through your mind, weapon in hand, Roger’s throat slashed open, you kept your eyes up, refusing to look at the corpse still leaking blood on the ground. Roger was going to kill you, he was clearly nuts, you should be thanking Buddy, but you were so confused, why was he at the ready? Did it no hesitation, in that costume, with those weapons too, you KNOW he isn’t in the play, so what was he planning to do tonight in that get-up? Your mind was running a mile a minute, his head tips forward, a sigh of relief, “Thank fuck, I’m so glad.”

“You were…Worried about me?” You asked softly and his head came back up, brows furrowed and he said, “Of course I was! I came in here and saw him and was so terrified of what he was going to do to you, he had a knife in his hand and I just-”

A shaky exhale before taking a deep breath in, eyes closed, he clenches his fists as if the thought of Roger doing that, harming you, killing you was too much to bear. The question is too much, weighs too heavily, you ask, “I am really thankful you were here to stop him but Buddy…Why are you here in the kitchen right now in this outfit?”

His eyes opened again and he looked at you long and hard. As if debating something heavily in his mind before he decides it’s worth it, that you are worth it. “Roger…Is terrible, he is a disgusting, awful man, an abhorrent monster. He used to be involved with my…Uh my mom. I know how people talk around here, I am sure you heard that Cam and I’s mom was the lead in the original Haunting and Roger was the producer and they were seeing each other and my mom she…”

He stopped, a deep breath again, “She cheated on him, he found out and he…He butchered her on opening night.”

You gasped and he pressed on, “He did it in front of me he told me it was my fault, he hit me, and worse. I was so, so fucking scared this whole time ever since then I just…When he wanted to do this show again and Cam got the lead it was like I was ten years old again, like it was some unthinkable nightmare, I thought the worst would happen to the only family I had left and I was scared, I felt so out of control and weak and powerless.”

He was coming closer again, but you weren’t scared. “Seeing how everyone was treating Cam, her falling victim to the same things…It was more than I could take and I realised something, I’m not that kid anymore, I could do something, could stop him, take revenge for mom, for Cam, for me.”

His hand skates across the stainless steel prep table you were next to as his approach continued. He was now so close to you, he reached out, gloved hands took yours, he said, “I care about you. Nothing is going to happen to you while I’m around and can do something about it, okay?”

You believe him. All of it, every word but especially him saying nothing would hurt you while he was around, I mean fuck, he killed for you, saved your life. “Buddy I had no idea, I am so-so sorry.” A ghost of a smile and he mouths, “Thank you.”

After a pause you ask then, “And does Cam-”

“Know? No, no she doesn’t. I tried my best to keep her out of it but she doesn’t know what Roger did, doesn’t know I’ve been holding onto this all this time I wanted to…Fuck, save her, protect her from it if I could.” He looked like he was hurting so much, the pain in his eyes is soul crushing and you reach out, touch him, hands cup his face and your thumbs brush over his cheek bones, more makeup is smeared, “You’re a great older brother.”

It makes sense. Artie Getz must have been his work too and you didn’t blame him, you had stumbled in one afternoon on him and Cam and she seemed less than happy about his hands up her shirt, you caught on quick that he might be making her do things she wasn’t all that enthusiastic about to hold her place in the play. You are glad he is looking out for her. Your heart goes out to him. His hands squeeze yours and he asks, “You’re not scared of me?”

You shake your head, “God no. I…Buddy I don’t think I can ever truly understand all you went through but I don’t need to in order to understand why you did it. Hell I would probably go on a killing spree for less if pushed.” You joke and he lets out a weak laugh, that smile you love coming out, white teeth cutting through messy black paint.

“You’re the best, you know that?” He asks and you laugh, “What? You’re saying this now?”

“I mean it! When else am I gonna say it? You made this summer fucking bareable! Getting to talk to you was the best part of my day.”

It’s still him, that smile breaking through the charcoal and the sweat and the blood, he felt the same was as you had, you weren’t crazy there was something that had been steadily building between you both all summer long and you say, “I feel the same way, getting to spend time with you kept me going through every horrible singing practice and all the splinters I got building that awful set. Buddy? You’re the best.”

You were still holding his face, he was still holding your hands and yet you both got closer, you tugged him nearer and he took that just as you wanted him to, as his in, releasing your hands, his now settled on your waist and he kissed you. He tasted like cheap make-up, iron and salt and something under all of that was slowly starting to reveal itself, the true taste of him, head swimming you tug him nearer still.

Hopped up on the adrenaline of it all, the almost murder of you, the actual murder of Roger, the mutual confession of your now painfully obvious crush, the fact you were still alive and here and even more than all of that, him, totally high on him. He was being rather bold, pushing you back into the table, holding you there, kissing you fiercely, you were completely swept up in it, he was the first one to break away, a panting breath of, “I’ve been wanting this for way too long-”

His hands were starting to move, “-I’ve been fucking dreaming of this and when I came in here and saw Roger with that knife, fuck, I thought it might never happen, thought he was going to take you away from me.”

He felt your chest up through your tank top, bloody head prints stain white fabric, his head tips back with a groan, he kneaded the flesh and you matched him vocally, it felt right, needed, you’d been thinking about him touching you like this for just as long as he had. “God, Buddy, you’ve been dreaming about me?”

A shaky nod, “Fuck yeah I have. Been thinking of feeling you, tasting you, craving you so bad.”

Tasting you? He dreamt of tasting you. The image of thick brown curls between your thighs with your fingers tangled in them takes over your mind and you moan.

Lord did you want to know all he did to you in those dreams he had, every sordid detail. He kisses you deeply, like he needs to, a hum against his lips, you return it, your hands reach and land on his shoulders. The mess of make-up and the rest makes your lips glide smoother against his, you were sure your own face was being made a wreck in the process but you don’t care, this is way too good to stop. He breaks this current kiss and you were breathing much harder along with him, his hands lifted up, ripping his gloves off, throwing them down on the table behind you, he wanted to feel you, really feel you.

“I was so fucking angry seeing him put his hands on you.” It seemed like it, there was this manic look in his eyes, almost like he seethed at the memory, “Yeah?”

Soon as he had the gloves off you pulled his hands back to you, he slid them up under your shirt, felt the lace underneath and you arch closer with a sigh and he curses at the softness of the cups in his hands. “Yeah. Made me see red, him touching you, I coulda cut his hands off, no, I should have.”

You inhale sharply, he was being shockingly possessive, saying he wished to commit a violent act so cavalierly but it didn’t bother you, it did the opposite, it turned you on, made you press your thighs together. You feel a bit weak in the knees as pads of his fingers brush over your nipples, a shiver runs through you. A whimper of his name, your hands slide down, one between your bodies, you feel him through his pants, painfully hard the same way you were achingly empty. He pushes his hips forward into your touch, a low groan and you are encouraged to open his pants, nervous and trembling fingers unbutton, yank the zipper down and his hands move quickly too, freeing you from the confines of our own clothing. More heated kisses exchanged as you tug and pull and enough skin was exposed to do what you were both desperate for.

It’s rushed but so fucking good, your underwear is pushed to the side, skirt hiked up and strong hands lift you up onto the table you were leaned against before. His fingers touch you, bare skin on bare skin and you shudder, his fingers feel sticky, you realise the blood must have leaked through his gloves and your legs jerk from the rush of arousal that tears through you at the thought. It was filthy, he was still painted scarlet from the man he killed for you and touching you with his tacky blood stained fingers. He found your clit with ease but when he brushed it your loud moan, head falling back gave it away.

“There?” He asks, even though he knows, you love that he asked and you tell him, “Yes, right there-”

His own pants open, your hand is around him and starting to touch him in kind, stroking up and down and he groans, his own pace quickens on you and it works, the sound he pulls from you is beautiful. His voice cuts through, rough and strained; he says, “He’s always touching my stuff but you’re not his.”

You shake your head, panting out, “No I’m not.”

“No?” He asks, he wants to hear it, and you shake your head, “No.”

Your wrist twists on the down stroke and it proves too much, he pulls his hand away and you do the same, legs spread wider and his hands on your hips, you shift, adjust, help him as he lines up and finally with another deep breath slides in, you both share a moan. You cling to him, arms loop around his neck, your fingers bury in his curls and you tug, he grunts as he bottoms out and his hands grip your hips tightly, it aches in the best way. He holds deep and asks low in your ear, “You’re mine, right?”

“Yours, all fucking yours.” You pant and he starts to move, the pace is anything but slow or easy. It’s hard, rough, possessive and needy.

It’s making up for lost time.

His hands are everywhere just like yours are, the force of his thrusts causing the table to shift, the pleasure far outranks the slight pain from how his digits dig into your skin or from the bites laid on your throat. He was surely leaving marks, bruises, as if he needed evidence carved into your skin, signs of ownership so you couldn’t or wouldn’t be able to forget this, even after the blood and grease paint is washed away.

Another bite makes you cry out, you tug on his hair again and he groans, his hips falter and you know now that he really likes having his hair pulled. You attack his mouth since he let up on your neck, another deep kiss, your tongue in his mouth and he was on cloud nine.

The need to have him closer overtakes and your leg hooks around his hip, pulls him tight and he wasn’t expecting it, his footing slips and you pull him with you. One of his knees on the table, one of his hands on the table top next to your head and the other now under you on your lower back, he is almost chest to chest with you, not so much thrusting, more a grind, a slow writhe deep in you that brushes a spot in you just right that makes you sob. Your leg is still hooked around his hip, hands never leaving in his hair, your back arches and you beg, “Fu-fuck! Do-don’t stop-”

“I won’t, no way-” A breathy laugh and a shake of his head, “-not till I make you scream-”

You clench around him, your clit is throbbing, you are being forced to the edge by this new angle, his head dips down, nips at your collar bone and at your neck and you twitch under him, a small and quiet chant of his name spilling out between gasps for air. You have the smallest, quietest thought in the back of your mind, “Where does he get the energy?”

He wasn’t letting up on you for a second, holding you to him as he was deep in the process of fucking you totally dumb, seriously where the hell was this spot inside you before and how did he stumble across it so easily and learn to abuse it so totally? Praise fills your ears, fractured between the sound of table legs scraping the ground, skin on skin, how soaked your cunt is and the heaving breaths and moans, “God, you’re addict-ing, wanna live in you, cou-could die inside you happy.”

Christ he was going to kill you at this rate. You whined, you are almost there, so fucking close, you tug on his hair again, your knuckles ache and you want to cum on him, need it more than the air you are struggling to suck down between moans, an attempt of warning him, a feeble, “Cl-close.”

“Can feel it, practically sucking me in, c’mon, please.” The way he says please, as if he is needing it as much as you are, as if he wants it more than his own pleasure, as if every second you aren’t cumming is physically paining him does you in. You tumble over the edge and do as he wanted, couldn’t hold back, the scream ripped from your throat as the pleasure tears through your core, head thrown back against the table as you tremble through your high.

He fucked you through it, held you tighter to him, didn’t let you squirm away and only when you are coming down, panting out you realize he is the one who is almost whimpering, panting out, “Gunna cum, fuck, so close, cah-can’t hold it, shit-” You know what he needs and you tell him that one word, leaning up before you lips meet his you choke out one rushed word, “Inside.”

You kiss him and he melts into you, another few rocks of his hips and he does, cums deep, holds to the root as he unloads inside you, groaning into the sloppy open mouthed kiss. That same kiss slows, less hunger, it becomes lazier and softer, sweeter until you pull your tongue out of his mouth and your head lays back, his body is on top of yours, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he tries to catch his breath. He slowly pushes himself up, light kisses over your neck, jaw, cheeks and he slowly pulls out with a hiss. You lay there on the table, not wanting to move even as he gets off of you, not in any rush, your eyes slip closed as you feel him leave, no more points of contact.

Hands lock onto your hips and tug, you make a sound of surprise as your sweat slick back slides across the metal table with ease, you prop up on your elbows and the view is heart stopping. Him there, on his knees, your legs now over his shoulders, his mouth dragging up your inner thigh and more smudges of black paint are transferred. He looks insanely hot right now, hungry eyes, his face a wreck with all those different aforementioned substances, his mouth getting higher and higher and you ask, “What are you doing, Buddy?”

“I made a big mess tonight. I’m just taking responsibility-” His thumbs rub over your hip bones and he leans in, tongue licking from hole to up and over your clit, you tense with a loud moan and he pulls back, licking his lips and a soft laugh rumbles out before he tells you, “-and cleaning up.”

You are sure he is more than capable of cleaning up his messes and after he cleans up the one he left inside you then he will deal with the one that has grown cold on the floor, but he wouldn’t have to do the ladder alone, you would help. It’s the least you could do.

#Buddy Swanson X Reader #Metal Killer X Reader #BHF writing #ENJOY #THE SELF INDULGENCE #I LOVE HIM SO MUCH GOD

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bisexual-horror-fan · 1 year ago

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Okay but which one of your favorite slashers would be the most into cuddle fucking? Lazy, slow but deep. Holding you close with a hand lightly around your throat and the other on a thigh, pulling you into each thrust. Whispering filth and praise at the same time, telling you how pretty you are and how amazing you feel.

- 🦇

Buddy, Buddy, Buddy Swanson! Sweet Buddy baby boy for fucking sure! The guy loves skin on skin contact, loves lazy morning sex, he can talk and hit the balance between praise and filth, just stfg he is perfect for this scenario. Also can see Ethan tbh or even Billy Loomis. But Buddy jumps out first and hardest to me. Hands are all over btw, totally.

#🦇 Anon #Batty Anon #BHF asks #Buddy Swanson x reader #I fucking LOVE himmmm #This shit is perfect GOD

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bisexual-horror-fan · 2 years ago

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"Another Day." Poly!Camping Boys X GN! Reader.

Today is a hard day, but the twelfth of May always is. I have been working on this steadily between fics and finally had the time to slap a bow on this, so here, have a cute GN! View into the average day of a poly!Camping Boys reader. Hope you like it as Multi-May continues, I got some big fics underway that will be sure to knock your socks off and are smutty as hell, promise. For now? Comfort.

—

Rating. SFW. Length. 2.1K. Buddy Swanson X Sam Wescott X GN! Reader. They/Them Pronouns. No Parts Specified. Warnings: Fluff. Softness. Sweetness. Domestic Life. Brief Mentions Of Movie Events. Just A Big Soft Triad Of Idiots. Cuddling.

—

You stir awake at five am when Sam gets out of bed, your head lifts slightly and his voice is still rough with sleep when he reaches out, smoothes down the covers over the space he just left as he apologises, “Hey sorry.”

A soft response from you, one hand reaches out, “Mmm Sam-”

He shh’s you, “No, no, stay asleep, I’m getting out of here in a second.” You exhale amusedly through your nose and still sit halfway up, your hand meets the back of his neck and tug him down to you, a soft kiss pressed to his lips that he luxuriates in for a moment before breaking away.

“Have a good day.” You tell him and he says “Bye sweetheart.”

That is the moment Buddy props up on one elbow, curls an adorable mess, eyes refusing to open he says, “I don’t get a fuckin’ kiss goodbye? What the fuck man?”

“I thought you were still asleep!” Sam argues and Buddy scoffs, “Regardless even if I am passed out you don’t wanna plant one on me?”

“You make it sound so creepy!” He complains and you chime in, “I disagree it’s more of a sweet thing, like even though the person isn’t awake you simply have to say good-bye with an act of physical affection, like you can’t help it.”

“See that I understand, why can’t you word it in a less date-rape-y way?” Sam asked as he came around the bed, he leaned down and as Buddy said, “Cuz I’m an asshol-”, it was cut off by Sam giving that kiss he was previously complaining about not getting. Buddy tries to deepen it but the other man pulls away with a laugh rolling his eyes, “Christ man, I gotta go.”

Sam pushed Buddy’s head down lightly and he allowed it to happen with a laugh, laying back on his side as Sam finally stepped away, “Get some sleep you two, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye Sam.” You say and Buddy coos right after you, parroting what you say, “Yeah, byeeee Sam.” He is laughing on his way out of the room, he shuts the door quietly. Buddy’s arm hooks around you and he pulls you down and towards him, spooning you and as you both get comfortable, his face nuzzles into your neck. Sleep claims you both easily again, curled in the warm sheets and blankets and snuggled up.

You actually wake up at the much more reasonable time of eight thirty. You wake up alone, not entirely unusual, you know just where Buddy is. You roll out of bed and stretch, making your way to the kitchen to find him in his comfy clothes, one of the shirts you recognize he stole from Sam along with a pair of his own dark grey sweatpants. He is in front of the stove, two mugs on the counter, steaming, one pulled closer to him as he is working over the frying pan. He looks over his shoulder and smiles upon seeing you, he greets, “They’re alive.”

“I am.” You came forward, walked up and picked up the mug, Buddy had already gone to the trouble of making your favourite drink you like to have first thing.

“Manage to sleep good?” He asks, eyes back on his task and you hum, “Yeah even with you busting Sam’s balls pre-six AM, I slept good once I passed out again”

“Oh come on, you know that you both love it.” Buddy said easily and you responded, “I dunno about that, I think we love you more like.”

“Good enough.” He shrugs and you ask, “So what is for breakfast today?”

“Crepes’ and hashbrowns, where the sweet and savoury meet.” He tells you as you hum, “Oooh, sounds great as always.”

“Naturally.” He agrees and you step away, walk to the table and take your seat, “You know what I really love best about you is how humble you are.”

Breakfast is plated, you both eat together, the food is stellar as per usual, the conversation light and after the plates are cleared of food and the mugs drained you have to start getting ready for work. By the time you are cleaned and dressed, he is giving you the lunch he made while you did your usual pre-work routine and then hugging you so tightly it is seriously making it hard for you to get to your shoes to put them on.

“Stayyy-” He groans and you sigh, “I can’t and you know ittt.”

“Boo.” He pouts and finally relents letting you go, “I’ll see you for a bit before you go off to work and I’m off tomorrow, I will still be up when you get home.”

“I suppose, enjoy your lunch and have a good day.” Now with your shoes on you lean up, hands on his face and pull him down, a kiss good-bye while his hands settle on your waist, and surprisingly he is the one to break it, “Don’t wanna make you late.”

“You are so considerate.” You praise before opening the door, “Bye Buddy.”

It was a fine day, the lunch he packed, your favourite sandwich, some chips and veggies along with some cookies he baked earlier that week, was of course great.

When you come after work that day they are both home once more. You can hear the spirited conversation from the kitchen spilling down the hall to where you are, shoes kicked off you go to join them. Sam is doing what he was getting in the habit of doing more and more, helping Buddy make dinner and improving his own cooking skills along the way.

“There’s my favourite duo.” You greet as you come into the space, Sam turns, excited for the first real interaction you’ve had all day outside of the usual texts you kept up throughout the day with him and that is what makes you laugh. “Nice apron there Wescott.”

He looks down and then rolls his eyes, a smile still plastered to his face, said apron was a joke gift from Buddy, blue gingham plaid with frills around the edges. “Thank you, my boyfriend got it for me.”

“Well you gotta protect that outfit.” You gestured to the t-shirt and jeans he was wearing as you came over and a kiss hello was given to Sam before you gave one to Buddy on his cheek, he gave a small, “Hello-”, as you do before Buddy told you, “I insisted he wear it for that very purpose.”

“Thoughtful as ever. Whatcha making?” You ask as you come peak around Buddy, he was working with a mortar and pestle, he told you, “Pesto, we made some pasta earlier to put it on.”

“Nice.” You nod and let it hang for a moment before asking, “So would you say that your pesto is the best-o?”

Buddy’s hands stop working and he sighs heavily, Sam is cracking up immediately and he nudges your shared partner, “Oh come on, you make terrible jokes all the time, lighten up Swanson.”

“I hate both of you.” He groused and you and Sam box him in on either side, a big hug, you sing-song out, “Nooo you don’t.”

Sam followed up, “You loooove us.”

He relents. “Yeah I fuckin’ do.”

The rest of dinner prep went smoothly, Buddy hurried ate his portion in his work uniform before he had to go, a kiss to your forehead and a ruffling of Sam’s hair that had him batting Buddy away before he was saying good-bye. Sam said, “Have a good shift.”

“Yeah try not to let the bastards get you down.” You encouraged and he called back, “I make no promises.”

You hear him leave and it was just you and Sam. “So what are we going to get up to tonight?”

“How about dessert and a movie?” He offers and you agree, “Sounds good to me.”

You both do the dishes post dinner, almost shoulder to shoulder, you wash, he dries, “How’d that work thing go?” You ask and he groans, “Fine, glad it’s over, your day?”

“Perfectly serviceable, totally non-offensive.” And he grins, “Love to hear it, nothing quite like the mundane.”

Sam was a big appreciator of the average and regular days like today in that life that you three have carved out for yourselves, the life you had all settled into post Centre Stage and Camp Clear Vista incidents made him see even more beauty in the normal days that pass by without comment. “What is gonna be dessert?”

“How about we raid Buddy’s recipe box and figure it out together?” And once the dishes were in the drying rack you did just that. Lucky for you he kept the kitchen well stocked and the recipe he had for chocolate lava cake was exceedingly easy to follow. Baking with Sam was a true joy, he made it so fucking fun.

In an hour's time you and he were on the couch, a comedy on the screen and dessert being shared. “Who does Brodie remind you of?” You ask and Sam thought for a moment, a hum slips out before he says, “Not sure…”

“Imagine if a certain curly haired dude was way too into comic books.” Sam gasped as realization hit, “Oh my fucking God why are you so right?

“I just am.” You say with a small shrug before digging in for another spoonful.

When dessert is done and the credits are rolling you any and all stress that had accumulated throughout the day, no matter how minor has rolled off of you.

“Chuck wants to do dinner this weekend.” You respond to Sam with, “Really?”

“At her place.” He followed up and you let out a pleased, “Oooh, no shit, well that should be a fun time. Is Buddy allowed?”

“He would be if he wasn’t working.” Sam says and you sigh, “You think he is more bothered than he lets on about missing that kinda thing so often?”

“I think so.” He admits, arms wrap tighter around you and says, “But this is what he wants to do with his life, we knew what we signed up for.”

“I know that, just miss him and I know he misses us.” You shrug, but even with that you certainly didn’t regret your choice in partners. You are pretty sure the reason Buddy insists on being the one to feed you all, even when he already cooks in a sweltering kitchen for his job for hours, is because it makes you all think of him throughout the day, a way to show he cares even when he is absent, still somewhat present even when apart. Pushing away the slightly dower feelings you ask, “Popcorn, a beer or two and video games till he gets home?”

“Fuck yes.” He asserts.

Hours later Buddy was coming home. He stood in front of the apartment door, tired, sweaty, and fumbling with his keys. He was going to be quiet, you talked about staying up but sometimes you would be a bit too tired for that. He didn’t wanna barge in and accidently wake you both. As he is about to slip the key in the lock he hears you laugh loudly and it makes him smile. He comes in and finds you and Sam sprawled over the couch, still deep in co-op in the current flavour of the week video game of choice, bowl of popcorn empty along with a bottle or two. The game was paused and you both turned, Sam’s arms up as he said, “He’s home!”

He took his shoes off and made his way over to the couch, “I am! Are you still playing this game?”

“We haven’t beat it yet.” You say and Buddy says in response, “Hand me the controller and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Sam leaned over to pass him the control and give him a kiss hello but pulled back, “Ugh, not till you shower.”

“Yeah you’re gonna make the couch smell like garlic.” You tease and he rolls his eyes as he gets up, “Have either of you showered yet tonight?”

A look between you and Sam, smiling tugging up the corners of your mouth, “Nooo we haven’t.”

“Well since you find me sooo offensive, how about you both come help me clean up, so you can be sure it’s done to your satisfaction.” Too tempting an offer to pass up, controllers dropped and each of you and Sam took one of Buddy’s hands, he helped you get up and you leave the living room behind.

“Just don’t elbow me in the face this time.” Sam asks and Buddy pushes open the bathroom door as says, “Don’t bend over at such an inopportune moment then.”

“Boys, boys, you’re both very pretty, can you stop for five seconds and get in the damn shower, please?”

Just another day in an apartment that is slightly too small for three that you wouldn’t trade for anything else.

#Poly!Camping Boys x reader #Buddy Swanson X reader #Sam Wescott X reader #BHF writing #Multi-May #Some more softness #Enjoy it on this rough day for me

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