#Budweiser Opening Act

[peachesofteal]

The Pit

COD masterlist Part 1/2 - Part 2

Ghost/Soap/female reader 6.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, dub con, kidnapping, manipulative hurt/comfort, whump, the guys shave you, humiliation, forced orgasm, predator/prey, medical inaccuracies. Clothed males/naked female. The Pit by Silversun Pickups. Horror-ish. Misery inspired.

Winter in the mountains can be cruel. 

This is something you’ve always known, even as a child. You were raised with it. Chose to return to it after school, decided to make a go of it, of a life here, as an adult. You knew what you were getting yourself into, long cold winters that felt both bleak and promising, unblemished blankets of snow possessing the ability to be stunning, while also lethal. Winters were dangerous, silent killers that left corpses in their wake and no amount of lupine or paintbrushes, glacier fed lakes or springtime moose calves could make up for the hell that winter wrought. Winter brings most living things to the knife’s edge of survival, forcing most to bow beneath the weight of its fury, backs breaking with the burden of just existing in an environment that truly acts, and feels, inhospitable. 

Although, there are those who do more than survive the cold, violent stretch of winter.

There are predators who thrive. 

“You closin’?” Your coworker, the new one, asks from where she’s settled across the dark wood bar, two amber Budweiser bottles empty in front her idle hands, eyes wandering to guys posted up by the loneliest pool table in fifty square miles. 

“I am.” She casts the only window in the entire place a surreptitious glance, fingers peeling away at a label. It’s snowing, has been for hours, flakes fat and wet, fluffy enough that the density of the snow on the ground is light, but dangerous, as it hides the real risk underneath; packed snow sitting with a slick sheen of ice on top. 

“You still trying to make it over Fall River pass tonight?” You nod. 

“Yeah. Supposed to see my brother and his new place this weekend.” 

“Fall River? Is that even open right now?” Andy, a regular who lives a few streets over from you, chimes in, twisting an empty rocks glass in his fist. You pull the bottle of Jameson from the rail and tip it vertical, honey brown liquid sloshing like a wave until his glass is halfway full, and he gives you a flirty kind of smile, the same one he’s been giving you for a year now. Yeeesh.

“It is. I could go around, but it just takes too long. And it’s Friday. I’m not trying to be stuck on the highway with weekend traffic.” You complain, and they both commiserate your opinion. The traffic is brutal, especially in the winter. Driving in hazardous conditions is considered to be a talent more than an innate ability here, and people often overestimate their aptitude for it, causing crashes and delays that get the highway shut down for hours, or even days, at times. You shrug. “I’ve had my snow tires on for weeks. Might as well get some use out of them.” Andy snorts. 

“Like you haven’t been gettin’ good use out of them? First real snow was before Halloween this year.” You nod. He’s not wrong. You did get dumped on two weeks before the end of October, twenty-three inches piling up within two days, before half the area was even ready for it. You throw him a polite smile, one that you hope reads like ‘okay thanks for the concern, we’re done now’ and he sighs. “Well, drive safe.” 

Fall River pass, it turns out, is not open. It’s closed by the time you split off from the interstate and start the windy, switch-backed trek in your jeep, flashing orange and yellow lights dotting the top of a barricade just barely visible through the speckled snow flying by in your headlights. 

Fuck. You could have sworn the DOT website said it was open. You take a deep breath, quelling the anxiety that roils your stomach. Okay. Not the end of the world. There’s another road. A less maintained option, but… you’ll be fine. You’ve driven in worse. 

The other road, a sharp, narrow, desolate path that cuts through a large swath of unmanaged forest just outside the national park, is easy at first. You’ve been driving the same jeep for years, a 2007 two door Wrangler, and you know how it handles like the back of your hand. With snow tires, it could pretty much cut through anything, even unplowed, fire watch roads like this one. 

Which is why, after the first few miles, your nerves fully settle, and you allow yourself to relax a little bit behind the wheel, easing the jeep across the dips and slicks in the road as you cautiously build speed, snow falling fast through night, growing thicker the higher you travel into wilderness territory, and the farther you left modern civilization behind. 

An hour creeps by, and then two. Long enough that you’ve now realized you’re the only one using this road, fresh snow blanketing the woods around you, topography and vegetation starting to change as you encroach on what you assume must be eleven thousand feet. You’ve seen this road on google maps once, or twice maybe, having noted it for future travel just in case of a situation like this. It runs perpendicular to Fall River, and eventually meets another, one that must be similar, on the other side of the range. The secondary road is one that takes you along the ridge, and then down, you’re pretty sure, although you can’t be one hundred percent certain, because you lost cell reception before you even turned off from Fall River.

Still, won’t hurt to check and see if you have this area downloaded. 

You pull your phone from the center console, thumbing at the screen, allowing your eyes to linger too long without looking back up through the windshield. No one else is out here. It’s not like you need to worry about oncoming traffic. The little SOS insignia blinks at the top corner, and you tap on the map icon, hoping it will bring up your geo location so you can glance at the satellite image of the area. 

You’re so fixated watching the little circle of death try to load, that by the time you look up and see the tree laying across the road, it’s far too late. You do the first thing you were always taught not to do in winter conditions, and slam on the brake, shoving the pedal to floor, heart rate sky rocketing as you panic and lose total control of the jeep. You spin, shoulders and chest jamming against the seatbelt, headlights flashing off into the woods, illuminating an endlessly dark web of trees, bark and branch scratching across the paint as you careen off the road, tipping too precariously onto two wheels and then rolling. 

Time, your life, stands completely still for a moment. You see every individual fiber of the pine needles, every uniquely designed snowflake, every single droplet of blood that floats away from your face and through midair as you crash through the forest, your grasp on consciousness slipping farther and farther away, the jeep finally coming to a stop on its side, your head cracked against the driver’s window, stars and streaks spawning out across your vision, headlights finally blinking out completely, leaving you alone in the dark. Your head spins like you’re still rolling, and the only sound in the dead silent snow is your harsh breathing, frantic terror bubbling up through your throat as pain surges through your body. 

It's freezing, but you feel surprisingly warm. 

You’re going to die out here. No one knows you took this road, you don’t have service, by the time they find you, it’ll be too late. You’ll be a bled out, frozen corpse, long gone and- 

You lose your train of thought quickly. Everything starts to fracture, fissures forming in your consciousness, part of you already losing the battle to the inevitable, darkness pulling over your eyes like a knit hat, lungs heaving just a little harder with each breath. 

You could just close your eyes. Just for a moment. 

Light sweeps across the ground, flashing across your face. You think, if you were truly with it, in your right mind, you’d think it was too bright. You’d say it was blinding. 

But you can’t formulate anything of the sort, mind too busy slipping away, falling into an inky black depth, just barely on the verge when you feel a gloved hand on your skin, the lilt of an accent on the wind. 

Sleep. 

You’re drifting. Falling through a stardusted, molasses filled haze, your mind ebbs and flows with consciousness; soft and warm feelings contrasted with sharp pain that bites through your body as if it’s slowly trying to eat you, chipping away piece by piece.

There are words, voices. There are hands too, fingers walking across your skin, limbs being moved, arranged, always with pain that’s followed by a hushed whisper of apology, a confusing sentiment in the dark. Your eyes won’t open. Your mouth won’t work. Your head is stuffed with cotton, wispy strands of connections that can’t quite get there, scrounging along the walls of your skull, trying to meet in the middle. You’re drowning, sinking to the bottom of a macabre pool, the one that’s infected your synapses and kept you just inside the shelter of delirium.

You try to call for help, but you can’t.

You try to swim to the surface, but the grisly black of your mind is never ending.

You’re dying, the tiny sliver of rational thought assures. Or you’re already dead.

Despair swells, and if you could feel your face, you’d think you were crying, lost to the sweeping desolation of your pain. It steals your breathe. Your sense. Everything becomes secondary to the obliterating agony that you feel. 

Something touches your cheek. Your eyes fight to open, straining against the heaviness that weighs on them, just barely blinking wide enough to let some light in, your vision fuzzily trying to focus.

Wood beams come into view. A ceiling? Where-

You try to turn your head but an electric shock rattles through your brain, forcing you to slam your eyes shut again, world spinning on an uneven axis as something on the edge of your sight shifts. A monster. A man?

Something is said, whispered, and then everything fades away, your mind and body slipping beneath the waves of darkness.

The next time you surface, you manage to cling to consciousness long enough to take stock of your surroundings, realizing you’re tucked into a soft, warm bed almost immediately, something hot near your feet, pillows fluffed beneath you. A hand stitched quilt is spread across the top of copious other blankets and sheets, and your fingertips scratch against the fabric. Flannel.

You’re also awake long enough to truly experience the pain you’re in.

One thousand tiny knives rattle around in your skull, slicing into the soft matter of your brain, tearing you apart piece by piece, everything in you unmoored and off balance. Searing pain radiates up your leg, through your arm and wrist to your head and neck, and when your instinct urges you to try to move, your body screams in protest, the pain so intense that you cry out.

That’s when you see him.

A man steps towards you from the edge of your peripheral, and you freeze in terror.

“Shhh. We’re not goin’ hurt ye. Ye had a terrible accident. Pure luck we found ye when we did, dove. Ye would’ve died out there.” He coos in an accent, inching closer, and you manage to get a better look at him, recognition failing immediately. An accident? An accident… memories come flooding back, broken clips of the jeep spinning, rolling, the woods, the fear. Who is he? Where are you? Brilliant blue eyes look down at you with concern, handsome face tweaked into worry, furrow in his brow partially covered by the long strands of an overgrown mohawk. He’s pretty. “Can ye follow my finger?” He presents one in front of your nose, but it splits into two, and then three, just the attempt to focus enough to make your head throb, and a whimper escapes from your throat. “I know, I know.” There’s a ceramic mug in his hand, and he carefully lifts it to your lips, encouraging you as he tips it back, warm, sweet liquid washing down your throat. You can’t even move your arms to push him away, and when he seems to be satisfied, his thumb wipes the corner of your mouth. “Good love. Well done.” You feel woozy all of the sudden, maybe even a little nauseous, and you think you could be hallucinating when another man appears at the foot of the bed, handsome, but in a rugged way, watching you with honeyed brown eyes, the broadest, biggest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Those bones need setting.” He says, and the pretty one grimaces, fingertips trailing along your cheek.

“Maybe tomorrow. I’m still worried about the concussion.” His thumb cards across your brow.

“It’s been three days, Johnny. Can’t put it off too much longer.” Three days? Your brain latches onto the time. Three days of what? Since when? You’re starting to fade, trying to focus on what they’re saying but losing the battle horrendously when the blankets shift, warmth tucking down around your waist and shoulders, unable to react or even speak when they both press a kiss to your forehead, affectionate and longing touch that startles you until you’re losing the battle to sleep.

It's snowing.

You don’t have to see to know. There’s something about how it hangs in the air, how the world sounds during a snowfall that blankets everything: houses, trees, mountains… your mind.

You love the snow. Even as a child, winter was your favorite. Winter brought you a sense of calm, of peace. It’s what brought you back here, kept you here, even amidst the perils. The feeling of a forest, lying still beneath the soft spun expanse of white, the crisp smell of the air the morning of a big snow, the eternal quiet that exists in the night when everything is dampened by the weight of a million, billion, uniquely crystalized webs of frozen water.

This snow feels different. It doesn’t feel like a velvety white, candy-coated dream world; but a nightmare… one filled with pain, anxiety. Where are you? What’s happened? 

And why do you hurt so fucking bad? 

“You’re awake.” A deep voice says from your side, and you flinch on instinct, immediately wishing you hadn’t as lightning sharp pain zings through you, your voice breaking with a cry. “Easy.” He cautions, and your head stops swimming long enough for you to realize it’s the brown eyed man, the bigger one. He’s sitting in a chair that looks far too small for his width, watching you with an intensity that makes you feel exposed.

“Where… am I?” You manage to choke out through stiff lips, your head spinning and the world tilting at the same time. It sours your stomach, more than you thought possible, and you try to swallow the burn of bile that’s racing up your throat.

“Are you going to be sick?” He strokes your face, the touch nearly sweet, but confusing, and you hold your tongue, unsure. He sighs, expression shifting into disapproval, and then a frown. “Tell me.”

“N-no, I don’t-“ You can’t even finish your denial before your stomach is heaving and he’s springing into action, shifting you onto your side where a clean bucket sits right next to the bed. You wail in misery, pain shooting through your leg and arm, your ribs, bile and spit leaking from your mouth.

“It’s alright, that’s it.” A hand soothes up and down your back as you dry heave, sputtering on nothing, tears dripping to the wooden floorboards with a splash.

“Nnrgh-“

“I know, I know. Poor thing.” He coos, and it sounds… endearing, so sweet yet… frightening, like the poison of a predatory, a pretty display meant to draw you in before it snaps a set of jaws shut around your face.

Somewhere, nestled inside the last shards of your sanity, an alarm bell whistles, but the intensity of your pain quickly drowns it out, and you cry aloud.

“Hurts.” He rolls you back to your original position, arranging you like a doll. “It hurts.”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. We’re going to fix it.” A cloth dabs at your forehead and then down to clean your mouth, just as the man with the mohawk appears on the bed, one knee down, leaning over you, worry rife in his features.

“Poor baby. Were ye sick again?” Again? You blink up at him. What is going on? He presses a glass to your lips, urging you to drink, and then pulling it away after you’ve had a few sips with a gentle “not too much.”

“Who are you?” The water is cold, refreshing, but a ting acidic, and you wonder if it’s well water, maybe?

“I’m Johnny.” He’s setting up something beside you, organizing it, but you can’t turn your head to look, and can’t quite catch it from your peripheral. “An’ this is Simon. Or Si, but ye probably willnae be callin’ him that quite yet.” Quite yet? What? Did they find you? Did they rescue you? Why can’t you remember? 

“What happened.” You try again, gritting your teeth.

“Ye had an accident, remember? We talked about it yesterday. Ye rolled off the road, ended up nearly down the mountain, in the thick of the trees. Ye’re lucky the one didnae impale ye.” Impale?

“And you found me?” You're starting to feel tired again, all the sudden, woozy and weird, exhaustion pulling at your limbs. Shouldn't you be in a hospital? Why haven't they taken you to a doctor?

“Aye, we did. Pulled ye out, brought ye home.” Home?

“You don’t have to worry.” Simon, the bigger one, tells you. “We’re going to take care of you.” Take care of who? Everything is foggy, clouded, and you try to shake your head in confusion.

“I don’t… why-“

“Storm is pretty bad. One of those, once in a lifetime types. Pass is closed.” You close your eyes. Of course. The pass is closed. You guess you’re lucky. They could have left you to die, and you could have never been found. You could have frozen to death. Bled out.

“Thank… thank you.” Johnny hums, and then you ripple in shock as he leans forward and brushes his lips against your mouth in a kiss. This… this is not normal? Are Scottish people just… more affectionate? 

“Want ye to know, if we didnae have to do this, we woudnae.” What?

“Do what?” Simon casts you a mournful glance, rising from the chair. He’s got piece of leather in his hand, like a cut from a belt, and your eyes dart between them, fear freezing solid inside your pores. Do what?

“Bite down on this, precious.” Simon instructs, placing the swatch against your bottom lip, and you jerk away in protest, pain burning through your body.

“Do what?” You try to sound strong, demanding, but it comes out a little less than timid, and he gives you a sad smile.

“Your femur is broken.” A warm hand rests on your leg, over the covers, and you try to click the pieces together. “And I suspect your radius is, too. We need to set them.”

Oh. Oh no. 

“N-no, no, you… you ca-can’t.” You stutter. They can’t. A doctor should be doing that, shouldn’t they? Johnny hovers over you, placing his palm on your belly, stroking upwards to the middle of your chest, the other holding firm across your collarbone. His touch is gentle, but strong, and his thumb rubs in a cautious motion against your skin, lightly grazing the underside of your breast. It feels weird, and wrong… intimate in a way that makes you shiver. “Please. Please, please… don’t-“

“It’s alright.” He shushes you, and the pressure increases against your body as Simon wedges a thick finger between your teeth, slipping the worn leather in your mouth, bracing around your wrist, his other hand holding your elbow. You gasp for air, adrenaline fueled by pain and fear coursing through you, and Johnny coos, telling you ye’ll be alright, that ye’re with them now, and they’ll take such good care of ye. 

“Take a deep breath.” Simon urges, and you stare at him, wide eyed, pulse thundering in your ears.

“Ye’ll probably pass out, bonnie. We’ll get the second one done while ye’re down, and I already gave ye somethin’ for the pain.” He assures, like it’s supposed to relieve you, and your nostrils flare as something tightens against your arm. Simon’s grip. 

This can’t be happening. This has to be a nightmare. How can this happen? No, nononono-

There’s a crack. A crunch. Burning, obliterating torture rockets up your arm, exploding inside you like a shot. You scream and bite down at the same time, raw misery trying to claw it’s way out of your throat. You think you’re crying, hallucinating from the pain, having a heart attack, fucking dying, all at once. It hurts, it hurts so bad, stop, please-

“We’re sorry, we’re sorry.” Simon soothes, thumb wiping your cheek, but you can hardly hear him, your brain starting to sever itself from reality, floating away as you slip inside the dark tomb of your mind, losing yourself to the fog as they both stare down at you, sickeningly saccharine concern layered overtop the faces of wolves, predators licking their maws in preparation for a meal.

You sleep and wake in a haze.

You sleep. Your dreams are torments, visions of being chased through the mountains by monsters, being pinned to the ground, teeth tearing into your throat with no preamble, or nightmares of drowning, being swallowed by the ocean, lungs sputtering with concrete laden sea water.

You wake. Your vision blurs, mind scrambled by pain, vaguely aware of being moved, carried to the bathroom, held upright over a toilet, gentle touch soothing up and down your back, heavy palm cupping curve of your skull when your head is tipped back and something is dribbled past your lips. You blink blearily with stone weighted lids, taking in the room bit by bit, the wrought iron bed frame, crackling flames sparking in a fireplace, mountain of pillows sagging with the imprint of your body. Your limbs are wrapped and unwrapped, immobilized, and shifted, and the pain is enough to make you gasp for air, tipping you over into the decaying depths of unconsciousness again and again.

You sleep. Restless, chilled. Ice spreads from the nerves in the tip of your nose to your brain, your fingers, and you try to burrow it deeper, seeking the comfort of the pillows, but finding warm skin and muscle instead. In your sleep, it’s lovely. It’s comforting. Even when you’re rolled to your side, something sticking under your tongue, you chase the heady thick heat that seems to roll off the limbs around you.

You wake. There are voices, deep and rumbling, bouncing through the room. Warm water dabbing down your neck, your belly, your legs. You’re too hot, uncomfortable and smothered until you hear a sharp pitched snarl accompanied by a yank, and then there’s a void of emptiness around you.

You sleep.

You wake. The pain starts to change, melting into something that’s consistent, throbbing, but a little less sharp, unless you move, and then it shrieks through your nerves like an electrical shock, vibrating your jaw shut.

You sleep.

You wake. They’re there. Simon is dabbing a cool washcloth across your forehead. You try to flex away on instinct, but firm hands stop you, holding you in place.

“Hey there, dove.” Johnny whispers, smiling. It’s a shy kind of smile, sweet, and the world spins. You grapple with reality, trying to remind yourself where you are, what happened. The fire snaps and pops behind Simon, who stands at his side, massive hand on his shoulder. “Made ye some breakfast. Think ye can eat somethin’?” Breakfast? A steaming bowl of oats sits cradled in his hand, spoon at the ready. Nausea roars, enflamed by the pain in your bones, and you shake your head. “Ye need to eat. Been givin’ ye soup for the past few days, but ye need more carbs.”

“I- I don’t understand.” You try to explain your confusion, hundreds of questions brewing on your tongue, trying to spill out.

“You’ve been in and out consciousness for the last week.” Simon explains, and your eyes widen.

“What?” Panic knots, twisting you up tight, heart fluttering in your chest.

“We had to sedate you. Needed to keep you still through the first part of the healing process.”

“You… you drugged me?” You stammer, and Simon smiles, but it’s not sweet like Johnny’s. It’s severe. It’s dangerous.

“Soft calluses form around fractures, after they’ve been set.” He sits down on the other side of the bed, across your hips from Johnny. “Your breaks aren’t in casts, so we needed to minimize your movement until the calluses could strengthen.”

“Ye willnae be able to walk on the leg, or lift anything with that arm, but we’ll help ye.” Johnny assures. “We’ll be here for ye, as ye get better.” The words don’t compute, and you look at both of their faces, sweeping back and forth, blue eyes to brown, brown to blue, until the only thing that you can think of blurts out of your mouth:

“Where’s my phone?” There’s a flash of discontent in Johnny’s features, but it’s quickly smoothed away, and you wonder if it even there in the first place.

“I imagine it’s somewhere near where your jeep rolled. We weren’t exactly concerned with finding it, considering we were trying to save your life.” Simon’s hands flex in the sheets, and then relax, serious look on his face, and guilt swamps you. Right. They saved your life. You could have died. And the pass is closed. Maybe this is all… as normal as it can be, given the situation. Calm down. 

Still… 

Didn’t Johnny kiss you? 

The spoon clinks against the bowl, jolting you back to the moment, eyeing the scoop of oats as it drifts closer to your mouth, lips parting on instinct.

The first bite is difficult, an insipid, unsavory lump sliding down into your stomach, toothy grin stretching across Johnny’s face as you swallow. The second bite is easier. So is the third, and you manage a few more after that until you start to feel wooly, head fuzzy and stomach sick. “I can’t.” You bleat, and he nods sympathetically.

“Alright, ye did good.” Sleep tugs, insistent again, strong surge of fog pulling at your eyes, and you yawn.

“Tired?” Simon’s already moving, hovering, patiently adjusting your pillows and lazily urging you into them. “You should rest.” You’re too weak, too miserable to argue, so you let yourself fade to black, easily falling back into the webbed slush of sleep.

You drift in and out for days after that. A bright spot of consciousness here and there before it dissipates and you fall into oblivion, and you find yourself embracing it as often as possible, trying to escape into yourself, away from wooden beams and potential predators that flank you.

You’re content to let it stay that way, hiding away behind closed lids for as long as possible, until the morning you feel the washcloth.

“Sh-sh-shhh.” Johnny hums when you garble out a distressed question, tipping a glass to your mouth. Cold liquid rushes across your tongue, and you have no choice but to swallow, confusion webbing across your thoughts. Simon has the blankets pulled away, chilled air nipping and your skin, and you moan. It’s strange, like you’re exposed, half floating like you’re high, and half spiraling through your pain.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you.” They’re repositioning you, arms and legs like a little doll, and you frown. “Jus’ need to get you clean.” Clean? The washcloth coasts across your neck and down to your chest, warm water soaking a trail down your breasts. You’re naked, fully, a hot palm against your hip, skin on skin contact registering as you blink fuzzily, watching the way Johnny focuses on you, concentration shining in his stunning blue eyes.

Water sloshes. Squeezing and dripping, and then the warm, nearly hot cloth is being pressed against you, stroking over your nipples, washing the underside of your breasts. It feels nice, and you whine a little when it pulls away. Simon chuckles.

“Do ye like that?” Johnny coos, reapplying the cloth to your belly. “Does that feel good?” Does it? Is it supposed to? Your vision doubles then realigns, and you stare at the underside of Simon’s jaw, mesmerized by the scar on his chin, the width of his neck. He readjusts you, again, slowly moving your knees apart, spreading your legs, and heat climbs through your bones to your cheeks.

You’re naked. They’re fully clothed. 

“We’re goin’ clean this up a bit.” Simon murmurs, a thick finger tracing along your slit, through the soft curls between your legs, and you balk. Clean what? How?

“My… my-“ you can’t even get the words out, too embarrassed, and he nods, sliver flash of a razor twinkling in his hand. The air in your chest sputters.

“Your hair.” Johnny works the washcloth back and forth, water dripping down your skin to the towel that’s been placed under your hips, you can only lay there in mortification when you feel yourself getting wet, tepid arousal roaring to life between your legs. “If you’re a good girl for us,” Simon continues, spraying a big glob of shaving cream into Johnny’s palm, “we’ll give you a treat afterwards. How’s that sound?”

“A treat?”  You squeak, and then whimper, Johnny’s fingers creeping down your slit, rubbing the cream across your pubis and labia, heel brushing against your clit. You make a noise of a protest, but it falls on deaf ears.

“Ye’re alright.” He coos, bumping against the swollen bud again, and you try to stop the moan that builds in your chest with no success, slamming your eyes shut and trying to disappear into the pillows. “It’s natural, dove. Ye dinnae need to feel embarrassed.” He leans forward, slotting his mouth against yours, lips soft and fragrant in a pillowy sweet kiss that lasts too long, his eyes blissfully closed in front of your almost crossed ones. 

“Please…” you whisper, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for, and Johnny coos at you, bending at the waist to get a better vantage point between your legs. You shake your head, eyes wide with disbelief, with fear, your mind trying to catch up, trying to rationalize what’s happening at the same time as your body is betraying you, slicking the cream that’s lathered between your thighs, clit pulsing with desperate need.

“I- I don’t want you to… shave me.” You whisper. You don’t want them to touch you… there, and the panic that’s pulsing between your ears continues to rise as your protests go unnoticed. Just saying it out loud makes you want to die of embarrassment, and Simon clucks.

“We have to take care of you, sweet girl.” Simon grips your thigh, fingers pressing into flesh, and the cool blade of the razor moves against the grain with a flick of his wrist, drawing back to a bucket for a rinse before a repeat, breath frozen in your chest as he slowly eliminates the curls of your pubic hair. “It will be easier to do that, to see what you need without all this.” He hums, the smile of a wolf coy on his face. “Stay nice and still for us.” They work in tandem, perfectly synchronized, and your unwanted arousal starts to overpower the pain that’s radiating from your broken bones. It’s been so, so long since you’ve been touched by anyone, and your body does not care that you didn’t want this, or agree to it, too eager to be satisfied, to be touched in anyway it can get, and it gets worse, more intense the longer it goes on, the precise movements of their hands, the slow and methodical approach to your cunt. “Almost done.” Simon tells you, and the side of his finger passes over your clit unintentionally, and you whine. “I know, I know. You’re bein’ so good. Such a good girl.” Your good hand is shaking, gripping the sheets, and when he finishes, Johnny wipes you down with a clean cloth, passing over your clit again and again, electric shocks sparking in your belly. You’re paralyzed, helpless, and yet… soaked. Desperate. The warring emotions tear at you, shame and fear and desire rendering you speechless.

“I think ye need some relief, dove.” Johnny hums, looking from your pussy to Simon, both of them tilting their heads to stare between your legs. “Poor thing is so swollen, Si.”

“Do you want to touch her, Johnny? Give her a reward?” Simon asks him, so sweetly, and Johnny shimmies down to be eye level with your pussy, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

Half of you screams no. Half of you shouts yes.

All you can do is watch, helplessly, as they settle themselves between your legs, Simon over Johnny’s shoulder, tempering his frenzied excitement with assured patience. 

“Will ye show me how?” He’s eager, and you frown, confused.

“Johnny’s never made a girl come before,” Simon tells you gently. “You’ll be his first.” Oh my god. “Will you help him? Tell him what feels good?” Your brain melts. You don’t know what to say, mouth half open, staring at the both of them, and after a few seconds, Simon sighs like he’s exasperated with you, before ducking back down next to Johnny and murmuring softly to him, probing along your cunt, finger dipping into your hole, swirling in the wetness gathered there and then moving up to your slit. You gasp, eyes nearly rolling back in your head.

“She likes that.” Johnny groans, breath blowing over your exposed flesh, and Simon takes his hand, thumb over thumb, guiding him in small circles around your clit.

 “Nice an’ slow at first, when you’re rubbin’ her clit. Feel how hard it is?” He instructs, pressing a kiss to the side of Johnny’s head, and he nods enthusiastically, looking up at Simon with wide, puppy dog eyes, sappy and saturated with love. It’s sweet, and affectionate, like they’re the only ones in the room, in the world… and you’re intruding on a private moment between these two men and your body. Like you’re a bystander. Or a doll. It’s confusing, your brain trying to sort everything that’s happening into neat little boxes that keep overflowing or falling apart, fracturing under the weight of your helplessness, the shock and fear that’s nearly made you dizzy. “See how her little hole is clenchin’ like that? It’s ‘cause she’s empty, needs to be filled up. When she comes, she’ll get real tight.” He explains, your body enflaming in mortified heat. They’re pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm, and Simon increases the speed as your hips jolt.

“Fuck.” You hiss.

“That’s it.” Simon coaches. “Are you close, sweet girl? Gonna come for us?” You shake your head, but even if you wanted to close your legs, you couldn’t. You’re trapped, lost in a sea of wild waves that break directly over your head, one after another until you’re drowning, gasping, muscles so tight they burn, pain in your arm and leg a secondary concern behind the pressure in your belly, the zap of your clit as they drag you too easily to the bottom, before sending you breaking through the surface.

You come with a distressed moan, hips jerking, and then a raspy plea for them to stop, telling them it’s too much, you’re too sensitive, to which Simon wraps his hand around Johnny’s wrist and pulls his hand away.

“We can’t overwhelm her just yet. Gotta wait until she’s healed up, hm?” He murmurs, reaching for the cloth. You blink at the ceiling, drifting, floating away, little boxes in your mind broken up into gnarled pieces that don’t make sense.

What just happened?

You stay silent, blank, as they settle you, cloth cleaning between your legs, blankets being fussed with around your body, pillows plumped. Simon curls some of your unruly hair behind your ear, swooping down until the breadth of his body blocks out all the light in the room, lips brushing over your ear. “What a good girl you are, dove. Did so well, letting Johnny give you an orgasm. So sweet for him.” He tucks you in a little tighter, and Johnny ducks around him, kissing you gently, like you’re made of glass, thrilled smile tugging at his cheeks, unfettered joy the last thing you see before your eyes slip shut.

The next time you wake, Johnny is in bed with you. It’s dark, a flickering orange glow casting shadow across the room, and you startle at the weight of his arm stretched across your chest, cradling you close, half curled around you like a cat. You turn, face to face, his mouth slightly agape, breath blowing over your cheek. You can’t get enough leverage on one leg to slide out from under him, and when you squirm, he only tightens his grip, pinning you to the bed. You’re overheated, and when you peek over his shoulder to get a look at the fire, you see Simon instead, sitting upright in a chair, fully awake, watching you. White hot fear shocks your system, forcing your eyes down in disbelief, surprise, his chair creaking in the night. Your breath stops in your chest, and then there’s a hand smoothing over your forehead, as he leans past you to brush his lips against Johnny’s, and then rough stubble presses against your cheek with a jagged whisper.

“Sweet dreams, little dove.”

[sneakyparsnipslicer]

Power Play

It was never meant to have happened, but in all fairness I'm glad it did. I do have an unspoken duty of care after all.

I'm Gavin, 22, studying at Uni for theatre. Friends have always said I've got an uncanny talent for acting, able to hide how I'm feeling, telling the most convincing lies, but despite that I do have an earnest care for my friends and for some that's a big deal.

So, it all happened one Friday night, some of the girl friends were hosting a house party. Alcohol, music, conversation, the usual. My friend Janice had asked if I was free earlier and invited me. I hadn't seen her all week so the chance to catch up is always welcome. I put on my best clothes and headed off to the house which thankfully wasn't too far from my own place. I brought along some Amaretto for the party and got to mingling with others. I arrived quite early so there weren't too many people around and I got the chance to meet the partygoers and meet up with Janice.

'Hey Gav, glad you could make it! Got some pretty big news!' whispered Janice excitedly in my ear.

'Really? What is it?' I asked eagerly. She waved her left hand in front of my face, a gold ring on her finger. My jaw dropped.

'Tina proposed to me, we're getting married in the New Year!' she cried. I smiled and hugged her. Tina was a friend of ours and had confided to me in secrecy that she had a crush on Janice, and over the space of a year it looks like they'd both hit it off really well.

'Congrats, that's awesome!' I cried. 'Is Teen here tonight?'.

'Yeah she's just over in the other room, I'll go get her' said Janice, and she made her way through to the kitchen. I sat down on the sofa and waited a while. More and more partygoers arrived and as the night went on I forgot about Janice and Tina.

Getting progressively tipsy and humming along to 'Tainted Love', someone slumped down on the sofa next to me.

'Fuck them lesbians' sighed a voice. I opened my eyes and looked to my right, there sat a guy that looked about 30 with a bottle of Budweiser in his hand, shaking his head.

'What's up?' I asked, looking to him in concern. The guy looked to me and shrugged.

'Same fucking story everywhere I go, I see a cute girl, magically they're gay. Swear every fucker's gay these days' he said, taking a sip of his drink. I didn't say anything, took a sip of my drink and looked across the room. I could see past the crowd by the doorway was Janice. She was consoling Tina, who was crying. We caught eachother's eyes and I tilted my head subtly to the guy next to me, she nodded and kissed Tina on the head. I understood the situation.

'So how about you my man? You smashing some puss tonight?' the guy asked, looking me up and down. I turned to him and smiled.

'Nah mate, I'm more for the buss!' I replied, winking. The guy almost spat his drink out.

'Fuck off mate, you ain't gay!' he said laughing. I sighed.

'Oh sorry, were you expecting something more like this?' I asked, dangling my wrist and swiping the air camply. He laughed again, looking at me in disbelief.

'For a moment there I could've sworn you were straight' he said.

'Well you know, not all of us act camp, I like what I like but keep it on the down low' I replied, to which he nodded. I felt like I needed to move this along.

'Say, do you work out?' I asked, looking to his arms. He looked and flexed his right arm.

'Ah, you like what you see?' he asked smugly, grinning. I nodded and took another sip of my drink. He chuckled softly.

'You know, I've never tried a guy before' he said quietly, leaning in a little closer.

'Might be your lucky night' I suggested. He started nodding and bit his lower lip, taking a good look at me. I could have cackled at how easy it was to get him invested.

'What do you say we go find somewhere quiet to… break some new ground?' he asked, chuckling. I could have suplexed myself from the eye roll I wanted to do, but I had to keep my composure and giggled.

'Well, my place is just down the road, should give us a chance to get to know eachother better' I smiled. He drank the last of his drink and stood up. I happened to catch sight of his bulge as he offered a hand to lift me up, predictable. I tenderly placed my hand in his and he hoisted me up onto my feet, grinning.

'Let's get going then!' he said, heading off out of the house. I followed behind him, giving Janice a quick thumbs up and a wink as she nodded understandingly, mouthing the words 'Thank you'.

We returned to my place, him squeezing my ass and getting excited all the while. I unlocked the front door and invited him in. As soon as I was done locking the door, he made his move, pinning me to the door and burying his nose in my shoulder blade, taking a deep sniff.

'Mmm, you smell good!' he said. I rolled my eyes.

'It's Playboy' I said passively. He pulled his nose out.

'That's what I'll call you! Playboy!' he said, smiling maniacally.

'Sure thing, umm' I said, looking to him for a name.

'Just call me Daddy you cocksucking bitch!' he growled, pinning me further into the door and kissing my neck. Daddy, how fucking predictable. I could just see how this was going to go down. He pulled away and exhaled, stroking my chest.

'I'll bet you're a right little slut aren't you, Playboy?' he asked, fiddling with my shirt buttons, slowly revealing my chest.

'Oh for sure!' I grinned, moving in to kiss him. He hesitated but proceeded to kiss me back. I moved my hands behind his shoulders, embracing him. I could feel his dick pressing against my leg, he was totally enjoying it.

'Fuck me!' he said, dazed.

'Don't you mean fuck ME, Daddy?' I asked. He started laughing and moved his hands down to my thighs.

'Didn't think I'd ever be doing this with a guy, it feels so good' he said, looking into my eyes, amazed.

'Well, let's enjoy this then' I said, taking him by the hands and guiding him to my bedroom.

We got into the room and he thrust me down on the bed, biting his lip.

'Alright, strip down Playboy, nice and slow' he said, stroking his own crotch. I sat smirking as I kicked off my shoes and undid the last buttons on my shirt, taking it off and throwing it away. I went to unbuckle my belt when he stopped me.

'Come over here, I wanna try something' he said. Walking over he turned me around and began to unbuckle my belt whilst his cock was grinding against my butt. Always so cute when first timers try to be all freaky.

'You like that?' he asked, resting his chin on my left shoulder, watching as he pulled my shorts down.

'Yes Daddy' I said breathily, trying not to laugh. He dropped my shorts and began rubbing my butt through my boxers with his hands.

'Oh that ass feels so good Playboy, can't wait to explore it!' he whispered.

'I sure hope Daddy's packing tonight' I replied. With that he turned me back to face him, pulled me into a passionate kiss and carried me over to the bed, laying me down on it. Getting on top of me, he looked down as I looked back up at him. I began to pull at his shirt and he took it off, revealing his muscular chest, I'll admit it wasn't half bad. Then I began to unbuckle his belt and pull his jeans down, which he kicked off and there we were on the bed in our boxers.

'Open Daddy's pants!' he ordered, and I nodded, slipping them down his thighs. His dick sprung free, big and girthy, just how I like them.

'Ooooh, Daddy's got a big one!' I remarked in surprise, looking at it. He placed a hand under my chin, lifting it up to face him.

'Suck it, Playboy' he said, and so I began to do so, placing it in my mouth and beginning the blowjob. As it went on, his face became more strained as he tried not to shoot his load.

'Shit, you're good!' he moaned, looking to the ceiling. Eventually he stopped me and turned me over, pulling my boxers down.

'Alright Playboy, going in!' he chuckled. I could have cackled there and then, but I had to withold on the irony of that line. He began to spread my ass cheeks and inserted the tip of his dick, which slipped in easily. Even he was shocked.

'Damn, I thought you'd be tighter!' he said.

'C'mon Daddy, I'm a whore remember? Don't ruin this for yourself' I replied, massaging his leg. He nodded and continued to ride my backside, shaking the bed doing so. I'll admit this guy fucked with feeling, and as it went on and he reached climax, he wasn't aware of what else was going on.

When he finally came, sweaty and panting, he whooped in amazement.

'Wow Playboy, that was amazing!' he laughed, pulling himself away, but he soon realised he couldn't remove his dick from my ass.

'What's the matter Daddy? Too balls deep in me to let go?' I asked, turning my head to look at him. To his horror, his hands were beginning to sink slowly into my back, his pelvic region already sunk furthest into mine, and our feet had merged.

'Yo, what the fuck's going on?!' he shouted, but he couldn't pull himself free, he continued to sink into me as I began to cackle.

'You just fucked your way into a whole lot of trouble my guy!' I replied, laughing as he struggled.

'Let me go you fucking freak!' he roared as our legs were fully joined and his arms had sunk in.

'You upset my friends tonight, 'Daddy'. The lesbians you were moaning about, they just got engaged and you just had to come along and ruin their day' I said coldly as his back and shoulders sank in, him yelling out for help.

'And for the record, the name's Gavin. Suits me well considering how many homophobic, misogynistic pricks like you I've been gathering up to stop my friends being harrassed' I explained. By now the guy's face had melted into the back of my head and his screams became more and more muffled. Eventually he was fully sunk inside me, his added mass stretching me out and I began jerking my own dick, getting off my bed and spunking a few heavy loads on the carpet, excising myself of him. I looked at the pool of cum as it began to dry into the carpet.

'That's all you ever were, just a stain on society's carpet. Thanks for the muscles though' I said, cracking my neck and massaging my new musculature, reaching for my clothes. Though I thought to slip on the guy's jeans, they fitted me pretty nicely.

Making my way back over to Janice's place, most of the partygoers were filling out of the house. I went back in and found Tina and Janice, their faces lit up.

'Gav! Did you take care of that bastard?' asked Janice hopefully.

'Hey, I'm wearing his jeans aren't I?' I asked, turning to show them off 'Plus he filled me out a bit'. Janice shook her head, but smiled.

'I don't know how you do it, but thank you' said Tina, bowing her head. I pulled them both into a hug.

'Forget about him, he won't be bothering anyone anymore. Nobody messes with my friends' I said, looking to them in admiration.

'You're definitely gonna be the Best Man at the wedding, you know that right?' asked Janice. I folded my arms and rolled my eyes.

'And here I was hoping to be Chief Bridesmaid, oh well!' I sighed, shrugging. Janice and Tina began chuckling as I turned my attention to cleaning up the empty bottles and beer cans that the guests had left.

[thequeendesi]

Stupid

Title: Stupid

Alt Title: Watch Your Mouth

Warning; sex, p in v, agressive, dominance, grabbing, cussing, porn w a plot

Disclaimer: I don’t own you, or the euphoria franchise however I own the writing

Rating: MA

Word Count: 1309

“You’re fucking ridiculous.” You scoffed as you dropped your phone on the table. “I’m always fuckin’ ridiculous. It’s always me.”

“Because it is you!” You shouted at Fez, walking behind him as he walked into the kitchen of the apartment you, his brother and he shared. “You’re doing a fucking deal at a damn high school party!” You pinched your nose, leaning against the door frame. “Fezco, we'll go to big people's jail!”

“I can fuckin’ handle myself! I don’t need your loud ass shoutin’ at me for shit for no damn reason.” Fez returned your previous scoff, opening the fridge to grab a Budweiser. “No damn reason? No damn reason?” You asked him, voice raising the second time you asked. Fezco took a deep breath and closed the fridge, taking a swig of the beer as he leaned against the fridge.

“I’m tryna keep your ass out of jail! And you’re too damn stupid to get your head out of your ass.” You pointed at him. “Don’t call me stupid.” He said shortly, a warning. Maybe stupid wasn’t the right word, you knew Fezco was aware of his risks and what he was doing. But you also were aware of the fact that if he goes to jail, everything is fucked.

“Don’t fucking act stupid.” You shot back, arms falling to your sides.

His jaw tightened as he nodded. His head leaned back as he continued to down his drink in four sips. He placed his now empty glass on the counter as he walked over to you.

His hand grabbed your jaw. Index, middle and ring on your cheek, palm covering your mouth as his pinky rested under your chin and your thumb on your other cheek. His grip was firm, but didn’t necessarily hurt.

“Watch your mouth babygirl.“ He said, beer on his breath. “I ain’t got any problems usin’ your mouth for what it’s best.” Your eyebrows raised as your eyes widened.

Your breath was caught in your throat. He wasn’t covering your nose, you could breathe just fine. But this sudden dominance from Fez was unexpected.

He has been dominant in bed before, but as the longer you two date, the more vanilla he’d become. Sex was good, but ever since you two began living together rather than ‘getting it when you can’, the sexual fire seemed to just dull.

You pulled your head back from his grip, which wasn’t hard at all. “Make me.”

Fez closed his eyes and leaned his head back, a short laugh escaped his lips. “Such a damn brat.” He shook his head, looking down at you.

His fingers moved to the back of your head, fingers gripping your hair as you lowered to your knees by his force.

You looked up at him as he used his free hand to undo his jeans, slipping them down to the middle of his thighs, he freed his member from his black jeans. You looked at it as he gripped it in his hand, a little over seven and a half inches with a girth that still had the ability to hurt if you two go without for a while. Precum leaked from the head of Fez’s dick.

“Open that pretty little mouth babygirl.” He ordered, his fingers moving from your hair to your chin. Your mouth opened as you stuck your tongue out.

“That’s a good girl.” He whispered, tapping his cock on your tongue. “Such a good girl.” He moved his hand once more, to the top of the back of your head.

Your hand grabbed the base of his cock as your lips wrapped around his head. Your eyes closed as you bobbed your head, moving your hand to cover what your mouth can’t.

“Just like that, pretty girl.” His praises slipped from his lips as you continued to bob your head, his fingers gripping your hair, using his hand to make a makeshift hair tie. “Fuck.” He sighed.

You focused the attention on the tip of his cock, tightening your hand grip a little and pumping your hand a little more.

You sucked, your eyes looking up at him managing to catch his head back. He swallowed hard as he pulled your hair, your lips making a popping noise you let go of his cock.

“Wha-“

“Don’t fuckin’ speak.” He said, letting go of your hair as he pulled you up by your arm pits. He moved you to the counter of the kitchen.

His hands grabbed your shoulders as he turned you around, bending you over as your tummy rested on the counter.

You moved your arms to prop your self up on the counter, crossing over each other as he left go of your shoulders. You looked over your shoulders.

His hands traced your sides as he made his way down the the hem of your skirt, a tight black skirt that normally drives him crazy, and tonight wasn’t an exception.

His fingers hooked under it as he pulled it up. “You’re so damn soaked.” He noted, you knew he was talking ab the fact that your wetness seeped through your pink thong and it definitely made a print.

His index finger hooked the thong at your pussy and pulled it to the side.

“Your pussy is just crying for this dick, ain’t it baby?” He asked you, his hand gripped his cock as he rubbed it through your folds, coating the tip with your dripping juices.

“You can speak.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” He asked, pushing the head into you slightly.

“Yes sir.”

“Such a good girl.” He whispered to you, lips on your ear as his hands grip your waist as his cock sinks deeper into your right cunt.

Your breath catches in your throat as you dropped your head to rest on your arms. “Shit…” you muttered, feeling yourself clench down on his cock. “You’re gonna break it, ma. Relax.” He says into your ear, his hips pressed against yours as he fills you. “You’re taking your dick so good.” He kissed your neck.

You breathed out the moan you were holding. He pulled away from your neck as he stood right, his hips pulling away from yours slowly as he pulled nearly all the way out.

He pushed back into you, then pulled away slowly once more. His hand moved to the middle of your back as he pushed down a little, forcing a little bit of an arch as his pace began to quicken, moans coming from the both of you.

“Fuck baby…” you whimpered out, picking your head up from your arms, eyes clenched closed as he began to fuck you mercilessly.

You gripped your arms as you felt him torture your g-spot. Your body jerking a little every time he pushes it.

“Right there?” He asked you. You nodded, moans becoming the only thing you can do.

“Ma, I’m not gon’ last to much longer…” He said, hips snapping against yours, the sound of your squelching pussy, his balls smacking your clit, and the moans from the both of you being the only noises to be heard.

“Fuck baby… I’m about to cum…” you moaned out. “Cum all over your cock, ma.” He ordered, and as if a band snapped, you came hard on his cock.

A loud, strangled moan-type sob escaped you as his hips slapped against yours. “That’s right, such a good girl.” He groaned, his cum painting your insides. “Fuck..” he whispered to himself as he rode out the two of your own highs.

Your breathing shook as you laid your head back down and his head rested between your shoulder blades.

He pulled out of you and fixed your thong. “Ready to shower?” He asked, picking you up over his shoulder.

You laughed a little and went limp in his arms. “Yes. Definitely.”

[corrodedbisexual]

Insp. by @pizzaqueen's post about Steddie making each other laugh 🥹

Steve and Eddie hadn't laughed half as much in their entire lives apart as after they got together. They have the dumbest, dorkiest inside jokes they get hysterical about while everyone else just stares at them in complete bewilderment. (Including Robin, sorry babe, you get to have your own inside jokes with your soulmate, but seriously you're too intelligent for the shit Steve laughs about with Eddie).

They'd just be having a normal conversation with the rest of the gang and someone says "popcorn" in a sentence and Eddie and Steve just look at each other and start chuckling. Because Eddie misspelled popcorn as poopcorn on their shopping list that one time and they spent half an hour howling with laughter about it, until they both got hiccups and could barely breathe.

Then there's the obvious sex innuendo jokes. Eddie cannot act normal within 10 feet of any remotely phallic shaped object. They'd be at a grocery store, and he'd pick up a cucumber or an eggplant, glance around to make sure noone's paying them any attention, then meet Steve's eyes, waggling his eyebrows with the most mock seductive expression he could muster, and they both start giggling. Even minutes later, at the checkout line, all it takes is for them to glance at each other and they're back at it again, and Steve's glad he can blame his bright red cheeks on the laughter.

But also there's the more childish, like, Budweiser wassup commercial kind of dumb humor. Like they'd just fixate on a word and start repeating it at each other until it sounds absolutely ridiculous.

~~~

One day they're at a diner, and the waitress brings their order, "here are your burgers boys, enjoy"; Steve stares at his plate for a moment, a chuckle halfway in his throat, and says "burger". He meets Eddie's eyes, which are already sparkling with mischief as he repeats, drawling out the word, "burrr-gerrr". Eddie's face slowly splits into a grin as he parrots it back, voice dropping an octave into his dramatic dungeon master tone, and Steve's already shaking with muffled giggles, playfully kicking Eddie's foot under the table.

It goes on for about a minute, both of them doubled over the table and laughing hysterically by the time Eddie's just repeating "burrrr" and Steve countering, almost roaring, with "gurrrr". Their extremely annoyed looking waitress finally asks them to go outside and take a breather until they can be normal again and not disturb the other customers. Robin and Nancy, returning from the bathroom and witnessing all that, just quietly slide into another booth, pretending they don't know these two clowns.

Some minutes later, when they're sharing a cigarette in the empty alley behind the diner, leaning against the wall, Eddie drops his forehead to Steve's shoulder, wiping his teary eyes at his boyfriend's jacket. "Shit. I love you, dude." Steve smiles at him. "Love you more. Dude." - "Steve, don't you dare." - "DuUuUude." - "I'm serious, I can't, my abs are killing me!" But Steve opens his mouth again, and Eddie has to press his palm against it to shut him up, and of course Steve licks at it, tracing the shape of a heart onto the palm with his tongue, grins at Eddie when he removes his hand. Doesn't even bother wiping the spit off of it as he sticks it back in his pocket. He's so unbelievably gone for this guy who somehow, miraculously, matches his level of crazy.

~~~

PS. Robin and Nancy get them matching "I'm with stupid" T-shirts for Christmas. Eddie and Steve are way too excited to wear them any time they're not in the laundry, making the "oh, we wore the same outfit, how embarrassing!" joke every damn time. They make sure they're always sitting or walking on the appropriate side so the arrows point at each other. Sometimes Eddie's on the right, sometimes it's Steve, because they no longer keep track of which shirt is whose.

[mywifeleftme]

364: Various Artists // Israfel

Israfel Various Artists 1997, Ape

A 1997 vinyl benefit compilation of mostly Middle American grindcore / powerviolence / emo acts, assembled in an edition of about 1000 by Bloomington-based DIY label Ape Records (active 1995 to 2002), in handmade sleeve with a recent release catalogue, a substantial zine, and a few priceless gag inserts (incl. YOUR HARDCORE SELL OUT DECODER RING). I’m not an aficionado of any of the genres Israfel covers by any means, but you’d have to be a real head to know most of these: in terms of notoriety, the Locust (who contribute a 47 second blast of lo-fi outrage) are basically Led Zeppelin compared to the rest of the acts, most of whom topped out with a couple of EPs and compilation appearances.

Of course, hearing music that would otherwise be basically lost to time is the appeal of taking a flyer on a comp like this. One of my favourite tracks is “Untitled” by Roanoke, VA’s the Weak Link Breaks, supposedly the first thing the band ever wrote (and, judging from their discography, nearly the last too). It begins with a very, very quiet spacy-Fugazi-style amble (the vocal harmonies couldn’t be more Ian and Guy) that explodes into a brief screamo-style D-beat section, and then some big heaving riffs that make me want to exaggeratedly lift and stomp my feet like a giant trying to keep his balance. I also dig Murfreesboro, TN’s Serotonin, an emo / post-hardcore act with a steely '80s shred band guitar tone who play like they want people in the pit to twirl around ecstatically instead of slam dancing. A lot of the other nasty yowling cat speedballs on Israfel don’t really catch my ear, but that’s okay—I’m weirdly proud of them 27 years after the fact for being themselves and getting out whatever they needed to get out through this violence.

The package’s tone is all over the place. The zine opens with a haunting description of the compilation’s beneficiaries, the family of a pair of little girls with spinal muscular atrophy (a common birth defect) whose condition worsened until they perished, leaving their parents distraught and financially ruined—and the 21-year-old compiler racked with guilt that he didn’t somehow do more to help. From there, it whips through his heterodox thoughts about the hardcore scene (despicably self-absorbed; unresponsive to requests from label operators); the state of emo (too abstract); the best way to bring about change (working within the capitalist system); rape (it’s bad; consent is black and white; can we stop litigating this in the scene?); calling the cops (fine to do); disrespecting the American flag (played out; tacky); and drinking/drug use (“when did self-destruction become rebellion?”). After he finishes up, each band (that got their artwork in on time anyway) gets a page to talk about themselves. This section is full of old school punk zine/leaflet treasures, with designs that mimic motel newspaper ads, postcards, messy handwritten perzines, and Xeroxed 7” grindcore sleeves.

It's funny reading his scornful words about pseudo-rebellious drunkards stumbling toward “the day when punk rock is shelved for an 8 hour workday, Budweiser, and television” and then finding his LinkedIn, where he describes himself as “driving omnichannel excellence” and as “whimsical (after coffee).” You wouldn’t believe it from the splenetic angst of the Israfel zine, but the guy seems like he turned out happy and normal, with a few kids and a successful career. I wonder how the 21-year-old would see the 48-year-old, if he’d call him a sell-out or feel relieved that things worked out; if the 48-year-old would pity his former self, or feel ashamed about losing his edge. More one-time zinesters and hardcore kids end up looking square from a distance than you’d think (I certainly do if you catch me during the workday), because you usually stop hearing about them when they drop out of the scene. For most, the quiet part of life is the larger portion by far. It’s your choice whether to embrace that, mourn it, or seek your own alternative. But if Israfel reminds us of nothing else, it’s the importance of having a good scream at least once in your life.

364/365

[aaliyahunleashed]

October 6, 1997 Phoenix, AZ // Arizona Veterans Memorial Coliseum.

Aaliyah attends and performs some of her hit songs at the Budweiser Superfest Tour. The Tour production was by Haymon Entertainment. This was a 30-city event with Aaliyah participating in 24 of the shows (that I can find, so far).

Mary J Blige was the main headliner at this event, with Bone: Thugs n’ Harmony as to co-headliners. Opening acts at this tour were Aaliyah, Ginuwine, Dru Hill, WuTang, and Kid Capri.

For the month of October Aaliyah participated in the following shows:

10/2/97 – Sacramento, CA // ARCO Arena (Which closed in 2012 as Sleep Train Area)

10/4/97 – Los Angeles, CA // The Forum (Now known as Kia Forum

10/5/97 - San Jose, CA // San Jose’ Arena (Now known as SAP Center)

10/6/97 - Phoenix, AZ // Arizona Veterans Memorial Coliseum

[fuckyeahvanhalen86-95]

Sammy Hagar plans to revitalize some Van Halen vibes on his upcoming summer tour.

For The Best of All Worlds Tour, Hagar and his bandmates in The Circle – bassist Michael Anthony, a founding member of Van Halen, and drummer Jason Bonham – will be joined by guitarist virtuoso Joe Satriani, who has recorded and performed with Hagar and Anthony in the band Chickenfoot.

The itinerary kicks off on July 13 in West Palm Beach, Florida, and the tour hits a total of 28 cities, concluding August 31 in St. Louis, Missouri. Loverboy will serve as the opening act.

Pre-sales begin on Wednesday, Nov. 15, at 10 a.m., with general on-sale starting Friday, Nov. 17 at 10 a.m. local. For more information go to RedRocker.com.

Hagar, 76, joined Van Halen as vocalist in 1985 after David Lee Roth left. Hagar also left the band in 1996, but returned for a 2004 tour. Recently, Hagar says he and Anthony decided to perform songs from their days playing in Van Halen at Hagar's annual Birthday Bash last month in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico.

"We pulled out a couple of them and it was an instant lovefest with the fans from our first riffs," Hagar said in a statement with the tour announcement. "The music we created is going to outlive us all. They deserve to be heard so it's time we go out and serve the fans that music, while we still can."

The four albums of the "Van Hagar" era of the band – 5150 (1986), OU812 (1988), For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge (1991), and Balance (1995) – were recently re-released in newly remastered editions.

“It’s crazy to think that it’ll be 20 years since Mikey and I played these songs with Van Halen on the 04’ Best of Both Worlds Tour,” said Hagar. “With Joe on board, we can take a deeper dive into those years. We’re going to touch on some hits from my entire career but seeing fans old and new really embrace the new collection set off something in Mikey and I."

Joining the band on keyboards and backing vocals is Australian musician Rai Thistlethwayte.

WHAT SONGS MAY SAMMY HAGAR AND THE BAND PLAY IN THE 2024 TOUR?

On a poster for The Best of All Worlds tour, there's a list of songs including:

• Songs Hagar recorded with Van Halen: 5150, When It's Love, Best of Both Worlds, Finish What Ya Started, Poundcake, Humans Being, Right Now, Good Enough, Eagles Fly • Van Halen songs recorded with Roth: Panama, Running' With the Devil, Ain't Talkin' 'Bout Love • Hagar solo songs: Your Love is Driving Me Crazy, Heavy Metal, Little White Lie, One Way to Rock, Mas Tequila • Hagar songs from his days with Montrose: Rock Candy • Chickenfoot songs: Oh Yeah

Here are Sammy Hagar's Best of All Worlds tour dates: • July 13     West Palm Beach, FL     iTHINK Financial Amphitheatre • July 14      Tampa, FL                     MIDFLORIDA Credit Union Amphitheatre • July 16 Alpharetta, GA Ameris Bank Amphitheatre • July 19 Charlotte, NC PNC Music Pavilion • July 20 Bristow, VA Jiffy Lube Live • July 22 Saratoga Springs, NY Broadview Stage at SPAC • July 24 Bridgeport, CT Hartford HealthCare Amphitheater • July 26 Mansfield, MA Xfinity Center • July 27 Holmdel, NJ PNC Bank Arts Center • July 29 Cuyahoga Falls, OH Blossom Music Center • July 31 Toronto, ON Budweiser Stage • Aug. 2 Clarkston, MI Pine Knob Music Theatre • Aug. 3 Tinley Park, IL Credit Union 1 Amphitheatre • Aug. 9 Las Vegas, NV MGM Grand Garden Arena • Aug. 11 Morrison, CO Red Rocks Amphitheatre • Aug. 13 Airway Heights, WA BECU Live at Northern Quest • Aug. 14 Ridgefield, WA RV Inn Style Resort Amphitheater • Aug. 16 Wheatland, CA Toyota Amphitheatre • Aug. 17 Concord, CA Toyota Pavilion at Concord • Aug. 19 Los Angeles, CA Kia Forum • Aug. 20 Phoenix, AZ Talking Stick Resorts Amphitheatre • Aug. 22 Dallas, TX Dos Equis Pavilion • Aug. 23 Houston, TX Cynthia Woods Mitchell Pavilion • Aug. 25 Rogers, AR Walmart AMP • Aug. 27 Cincinnati, OH Riverbend Music Center • Aug. 28 Nashville, TN Bridgestone Arena • Aug. 30 Noblesville, IN Ruoff Music Center • Aug. 31 St. Louis, MO Hollywood Casino Amphitheatre

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[louisupdates]

energy953radio King Louis of Budweiser Stage! @louist91 put on an amazing show tonight! Next stop Faith in the Future World Tour

Opening Acts: @theacademic @snarlsband

📸@mathew_tsang

@budweiserstage @livenationon

[Louis Tomlinson, FITFWT23: Toronto]

[pewpewpugh]

More Than Friends: part 1

I never understood why they asked. Why every time I was around her, the question "Are you two dating?" would pop up. No, I'd reply. We're just friends. And we are, just friends that is. But that doesn't stop the butterflies when she looks at me with a certain expression. It doesn't stops the butterflies when she entwines our fingers at a party. And it certainly doesn't stop the butterflies when we're alone in her room, her arms around me and her head on my chest. The butterflies don't stop, I've tried. 

I was twenty seven when we met. She was twenty six. I was working a full time job as a social media executive in the city, for a start up company selling vintage clothing. You see, I'm what you would call a creative. I love to make things. Photography, videography, graphics, that kind of thing. I used to be a painter as a kid, but I grew out of that when I discovered technology. And that's my passion, making visual things that others can enjoy. I write scripts too, though the majority of them need filing under BIN. Anyway, i'm going on a tangent. I was testing out my new camera, a Canon EOS 750D DSLR, in the reception of the local TV studio when a girl stopped me to ask for directions to the closest cafe with good coffee.

'Walk out of the car park, turn right at the exit, follow the street until you reach the library and it's next door. If you reach Tesco, you've gone too far', I say.

She thanks me, and heads on her way. I never think another second of it, this happens often.

Two nights later, it's a Friday night and I'm heading to a party being hosted by a girl I've spoken all but two words to, but she's a friend of the girl I'm dating so I agree to attend. We arrive around 9pm and I'm dragged straight into the garden where I see a group of around 8 girls sat in a circle on the grass. Nicole, the girl I'm seeing, says her hello's and introduces me to her friends. 

'This is Sheree' she says to everyone, 'The girl I was telling you about'. 

I smirk at that. A huge, shit eating grin actually and she notices, rolling her eyes at me. She asks if I'd like a drink, to which I say yes, but I'll get them, and she points me in the direction of the kitchen. I leave her with her friends and head in the direction she gave, finding myself in an american styled kitchen area. Bottles everywhere. It was like a scene from Skins. I grab two bottles of Budweiser, and search for a bottle opener. 'There MUST be one around here somewhere', I think to myself.

'Here' I hear from my left, 'You might need this'.

Looking over, I see a girl with short blonde hair waving a bottle opener at me. I take it, thanking her for her help and opening the bottles in my hand.

'So, this might sound weird...' she starts. I raise my eyebrows at her, causing her to grin at me, 'but aren't you the girl from the studio a few days ago?' 

For the first time, I properly look at her. She was right. She was the girl I gave the directions to.

'Uh, coffee girl, right?' I ask. She grins again.

'That's me, though I hope the nickname doesn't stick...' There's an awkward silence before she continues, 'I'm Florence'

I nod in response, "Sheree'

'Nice to officially meet you. Your directions are shit, by the way. I hit Tesco' 

'Oh, fuck. Sucks to be you, I guess' 

I shrug at her. Florence again grins at me. She's making a habit out of that. I like it.

'So, what brings you to these neck of the woods? No offence, but you don't sound like you're from around here' 

'A project' She pauses, choosing her words carefully, 'I'm an actor"

'Ah, a stripper' I tease.

'Fuck off' She laughs, which was the most beautiful sound I've ever heard, 'Ive been doing voice acting at the studio I saw you at...'

I'm impressed. To me there is nothing more attractive than a girl with a talent. I look at her closely, taking in every detail of her face, trying to work out if I would know her, but nothing came to mind.

'Would I know anything you've been in?' I ask her curiously. 

'Maybe, maybe not' She shrugs at me, 'I-'

Just then, I felt two arms wrap around my waist and a chin rest on my shoulder. Nicole. Florences smile faulted slightly, before she turned her attention to the new arrival.

'Hi! You must be Sheree's... girl...?... friend...?' she paused between each word, unsure of how to go about the situation. We both knew she was flirting with me before, and now the situation had turned awkward. Not my girlfriend. Not my girlfriend. Not. My. Girlfriend.

'We're not quite at that stage yet, but maybe someday.' Nicole replies, before taking her drink from my hand, 'Thanks, kid' she kisses my cheek before skipping back outside to her friends. You're welcome, kid.

Florence furrowed her brows as we watched her leave. When she was out of sight, I turned again and caught Florence looking at me curiously. Not for the first time tonight either.

'She seems...'

'A lot' I interrupt.

'Nice' she continues.

I grin at her, taking a sip of my drink. She giggles, and I swear my heart nearly exploded. I'd found my new favourite sound.

[brookstonalmanac]

Beer Events 8.17

Events

Wrench patented (1835)

John Bohaet patented an Improvement in Beer-Refrigerators (1875)

Ratsherr Johann Locher bought the Appenzeller Brewery (Switzerland; 1886)

U.S. Senate passed the resolution on Prohibition (1917)

Licensing Act specified set hours for pubs (England; 1921)

Paul and Hilton Murray patented a Beer Container (1937)

Emil Horst patented a Hop Picking Machine (1948)

Rees Williams patented a Continuous Fermentation Apparatus for Beer Production (1965)

Budweiser Malt Liquor withdrawn from the market (1973)

Anchor Brewery 1st made Ninkasi beer (1979)

Toronado opened (San Francisco, California; 1987)

Breweries Opened

Crooked River Brewing (Ohio; 1994)

Grizzly Peak Brewing (Michigan; 1995)

Oggi's Pizza & Brewing (f.k.a. Stuft Pizza, California; 1995)

Laughing Dog Brewing (Idaho; 2005)

Godthaab Bryghus (Greenland; 2006)

[the-firebird69]

The Simpsons-Duff Beer!

They want the beer company and they have several reasons why and they have several explanations this actually shows about five of them he took one out because it's sensitive content and very evil but this shows most of it and they're not really positive for our son about you guys like it hello. And Hera says hello He says I'm doing good i'm at work she says I know I'm helping out good is as I need it so she's smiling it says you're not straight on work right now so is but here we go this is the beer and this is the type of commercial we're going to put out there and people to see it and interrupting a golf game plug in the whole and being **** **** and it's like a planned advertisement but. A few people tried to do it and they get in trouble one of them is with Bobby Boucher but the guy didn't show up again so the Mack Moore Locker starting their wise up and then see it. This is a huge day tons of important stuff are happening and we want to get this beer company off the ground and this will be the cheap one not the Universal Studio it's expensive it's about $4 but other beers are almost three times as much no they're over three times so this beer will be three times less than standard Budweiser and things like that young people are starting to see it. It's a wonderful wonderful day this is a terrific idea and Brad It is going to start the beer brew process and we will of course monitor it the company is headquartered in Springfield IL no but that's the town that is modeled after so our son says we wanna open officers brad in all the Springfields it has to do with the motif that the max wanted to do do you want to give people duff and have you sit on your duffs it's not a planned word they use it for both. We like the Springfield idea and Brad is a pretty good presence out there he was beating people up.  Two more things when the sun gets big these idiots will wanna fight him to make sure that it's actually strong and not just faking it so son says he's in trouble he's using condensed milk when Brad is giggling it's gonna be fun today he has a brewery it's a microbrewery but he wants to test it and he's gonna use purified water you'll be a small batch for his people and is aware of the reactions Inherited and he inherited it from someone like one of the casino owners and they're saying it's Brad and then he's now wearing the suit and then he has to be dumped man to sell the beer and it's not really our idea but the chairman and things want him to do it then he doesn't have much money so he decides to do it for cash. And we agree they'll never get him to do anything like that unless he owns the company no it's hippie doesn't have to drink the beer and really a lot of the cosplay people and Budweiser people are not allowed to drink when they're doing the act. It's normal. So we're going over it now and he wants to do it because he's at least big enough to have a giant beer company and it's not funny and we get embarrassed a lot and we're sick of it and we're going to prove it that you were wrong but this is an awesome idea and Brad is beginning today and he's going to make batches for his people only and it's a small group it takes three or 4 days to get a first run but he has appeared that tastes like it and so he has an idea of what Duff tastes like and he and so he has an idea of what Duff tastes like and he wants to see how close it is because the recipe is very close. And he's been pulling the sugar out and stuff like that and we say we've seen the recipe and it's pretty much almost the same thing. So he's got a first batch going and he's got that beer ready and he's going I can bottle it in duff and all you do is change the label and it says good let's hope that only like a few 1000 get made like you want and he started laughing and said now you guys if we're going to do this we're going to sell it so they're getting to work now and we know it's going to work and our son might get a job and Brad might have him do it and he says this is your company it's and he says this is your company it's yours you inherited but really the guy is saying This is your job and there's confusion and the way our son is built now it's not the best duff man and he's not really ready for it maybe in a month and we'll show you what he'll look like.

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues Hera

[drewkopp]

Burning Out: A Dramatic Monologue - Part 3: Cooldown

I’d love to get some feedback on this piece and the other two parts that follow, which were written as part of a collab between my local writer’s group and the local theater group. I’d specifically like to know if I captured the narrator’s psychopathy through their voice and if their character arc is clear. Each part has to be under 500 words.

Dear Diary

…Hey.

I’m sorry I left you to gnaw on that little cliffhanger for a few months, but I’ve been too busy to check in with you.

A lot’s changed since we last spoke, but one thing’s stayed the same: I still don’t feel like putting other people’s property to the torch.

Don’t worry; my creative juices haven't gone dry or anything. My art’s just taken a bit of a new form, that’s all.

Molotov’s helping me shear away my artist’s block. You remember Molotov, right? The punk I kidnap- removed from an unsafe situation? Yeah, them

Neither of us ended up frozen because Molotov made magic happen with a bottle of hand sanitizer they swiped from the refugee center’s bathroom. Their technique was still mediocre, but I didn't mind giving them a pointer or two. Last week, they got our campfire going with nothing but a stick, a handful of dry leaves, and a dictionary so soaked that the only words I could read from it were  “Hope,” “Springs,” “Eternal,” and “Marmalade.”

Molotov also came up with the idea of selling fire. Huh. Writing that didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.

We were passing through the skeleton of what I think used to be Saskatoon when we ran into a herd of ex-frat boys trying to turn their three-seater sofa into a cooking fire by using a shattered Budweiser bottle as a magnifying glass. 

My apprentice offered to help them get a blaze going if they shared a bit of the deer they wanted to grill up. Did you know Deer Heart Salad is a thing? I didn’t. Yet another fascinating nugget of Molotov wisdom.

Being a fire merchant scratches my artistic itch better than I thought. If you’d told me that most people don’t know how to start a fire before the apocalypse, I wouldn’t have believed you. It doesn't matter which direction Molotov and I wander; we always find at least one poor smuck who doesn't know how to relive their ancient ancestor’s greatest triumph.

It’s a pretty satisfying dopamine cycle, honesty: Molotov and I meander around until we find some poor soul whose mind has not yet been opened to the ways of pyromancy, then we hook them up if they can match our prices. 

Even when we don’t stumble upon any customers, lighting a campfire and sitting under the stars with Molotov makes me feel like I’ve done something right. I’m almost okay with counting my anti-hypothermia fires as art.

…Almost.

I think I’ve finally realized why I lost my mojo. My work… it’s an act of rebellion. Before, it was a rebellion against a civilization that decided by lottery whether or not people were worth taking care of. Now, it’s a rebellion against the ignorance that civilization allowed to fester.

Being a fire merchant should be enough to keep me busy.

At least until civilization thinks it’s safe to come out of hiding.

[stratossphere]

the bonfire. | j.k

the tension between you and knoxville builds. a lot. set in mid-2003.

word count: 5.6k

warnings: a lot of drinking and smoking (reader is described as a stoner), mentions of age gap, smut, oral (fem. receiving), fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, knoxville’s dirty mouth in general

"I'm telling you, I don't want to fuck him." You said, an amused expression on your face as you passed the spliff you were smoking over to Bam. You had been on this topic for almost an hour now on and off, and for some reason you just couldn't seem convincing.

"Dude, we all know you do. Just get it over with and tell us if it was good or not." He scoffed, taking a second to suck in a hit before he continued. "The dude has a huge hard-on for you anyway, so might as well shoot your shot."

"I know he has a huge hard-on for me. I'm just...too lazy to deal with that." You groaned as you sunk down in your camp chair. You’d all been sitting at a bonfire outside of someone's friend's house for over two hours now, and you were getting kind of bored. Bam and Ryan had flown in from Pennsylvania the day before, so you were trying to get as much time as possible in with them before they had to leave again, but sometimes they made it hard.

"You're just scared you can't pull him." Bam scoffed, handing the joint back and then dramatically turning in his chair to glance over to where Johnny was. "Although, he's pretty old compared to us."

"I could absolutely pull him. All I'd have to do is bend over in front of him and he'd be barking like a dog." You scoffed, elbowing him not-so-gently. "And who cares if he's older? He acts like he's fucking five."

"So you do want to fuck him." Bam called you out like it wasn't already obvious. "Dude, I'm serious. Go pull your little bend over routine and get out of here. It's physically hurting me to watch you guys anymore."

"Watch us? We barely even talk!" You protested, downing the last of your can of beer before turning back to Bam. "He's not that hard to pull. Remember when that girl kissed his neck and he was blushing like a girl and had to put a pillow in his lap? Easy money."

"Yo! Dunn! C'mere!" Great. Now Bam was bringing another person into this. And, of course, Ryan looked more than happy to drop down in the camp chair across from you. Bam smacked your arm. "We're debating whether or not Y/n’s got enough game to fuck Knoxville."

"Dude, totally. He's like, rock hard for you already." Ryan scoffed, cracking open another beer as he spoke. "You got the guts, though?"

"You know what? You two are assholes." You scoffed, crushing your beer can and tossing it at Ryan's feet. "Watch this shit."

You turned in your chair, looking around and trying to find Johnny again. He'd disappeared from his position next to the ping pong table that Ehren and Steve-O were destroying, and it took you a second to locate him crouched down in front of one of the beer coolers. Perfect.

"Knoxville!" You shouted loudly enough to draw his attention, watching his head crane back in your direction with his sunglasses still sat perfectly on top of his head. It had gotten too dark for him to be able to see properly with them on, so he'd ditched them about half an hour ago. "Can you grab me one?"

"What kind you want?" He shouted back, holding up both Budweiser and PBR. Steve-O had definitely been in charge of beer supply, because all there seemed to be was pisswater for choices. You motioned to his left hand that held the Budweiser, and watched him chuck the other can back into the cooler before kicking it back shut.

"If you two say anything, I'm gonna tell Tremaine to have you shot with paintballs for weeks." You warned quickly as Johnny started his way over, jabbing a finger at each of them individually. You were really praying they didn't mess up your game, because Johnny was going to make it into a huge thing if they did.

"Who? We're not even here." Ryan said dramatically, pretending to zip his lips and throw the key in the fire seconds before Johnny was behind your chair holding the beer over your shoulder.

"You three sharing secrets and braiding each other's hair over here?" He cajoled as he pressed the cold can into your neck, making you wince as he came around the side of your chair and plopped into the empty one that was to your right. "I feel left out."

"Thanks, J." The little nickname lingered on your lips as you took the can from his offering hand, your fingers brushing his as you did so. You watched his eyes stick to yours momentarily, and you could tell that what you were doing was so easily working. Like picking up sticks.

"Fuck off, Knoxville. You don't have enough hair to braid." Bam scoffed, extending his foot across you to kick his friend in the leg. You pushed him away, shooting him a look to kill as you leaned back in your chair slightly.

"We're smoking, if you want some." You offered, motioning to the new joint that Ryan was rolling as we spoke. Johnny shook his head, cracking his beer tab and letting out a gentle sigh.

"On a break right now. I'm sticking to...other things." He said vaguely, putting his feet up on the same empty chair that you currently had yours on. Oh yeah. Easy money.

"Ooh. Other things. My favorite." Bam snorted, as if this conversation was hilarious to him. You shot him another dirty look, and he seemed to take the hint, standing up and wiping his hands off on the legs of his black jeans. "Well, I'm gonna go do something more fucking interesting. Dunn, care to join?"

"Sure, man. I've been hanging out with Y/n way too fucking long, anyway." Ryan scoffed, getting up with the joint still in his hand. You glared at him and held your hand out.

"Leave the weed, fuckhead." You ordered, watching him sigh before dropping the perfectly-rolled joint in the palm of your hand. You then watched them walk away to where they could still watch both of you before turning your attention back to Johnny. "Well? What does 'other things' entail?"

"Nothing heavier than cigs and beer. The way god intended." He sighed, reaching down to grab your lighter off the ground and then handing it over to you.

"What're you taking a break for?" He was kind of making you feel guilty for smoking in front of him, but he was the one that had chosen to drop down right next to the world's biggest stoner.

"Recovery. I feel like I haven't slept for days." He sighed, letting out a slight chuckle as he reached into his back pocket to retrieve a pack of cigarettes. "So. After this, you think you'll be willing to do more stunts?" Huh. Maybe not easy money.

"You want me to do stunts? For what?" You were genuinely surprised. Sure, you'd let Steve-O convince you to do the whole skateboard-into-the-water thing, but that had only been because Bam got food poisoning and needed a stand in.

"Just in case we make another movie! Filming never stops, Y/n/n." He explained, his arm moving to rest on your armrest as he spoke. You frowned at the nickname, moving your arm to rest next to his as you looked out at the fire pit.

"Probably. I liked the money." You said thoughtfully, lighting up the joint and making a point to blow the smoke to your left instead of your right so that it wasn't directly in his face. "I thought you said you were banning women from stunts."

"I did. You're different." He said simply, and you watched him attempt and fail to hide the fact that he was looking directly at your tits in your low-cut tank top. You raised an eyebrow at him in question at calling you 'different'. He quickly spluttered at the look on your face. "Because you're—you're badass. You're different."

"I'm taking that as a compliment." While you talked, you had been slowly inching your feet closer to his, and your shoes were now touching. If he noticed, he didn't say anything about it. "So? What would the next stunt be?"

"Well, we were playing with the idea of...naked barrel racing...across a tarp of lube." It was clear by his face that he was proud of his idea, but you could also tell that he was embarrassed to have to tell you what it was. It actually made you laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of that plan.

"You just want to see me naked." You accused, narrowing your eyes at him. He chuckled, looking unbothered by your accusation before taking another drag from his cigarette.

"What makes you think that? All the guys would be naked, same as you." He said, raising one eyebrow quizzically. You shrugged, a coy smile dragging onto your face.

"Hey. I don't know what you're into. Could be both." You said, hitting your joint as you studied his face. For someone who currently had your foot brushing purposely against his leg, he looked pretty at ease.

"Oh, not me. I'm a tits man, myself." He chuckled, his eyes moving back down to where you were now definitely moving your foot up his leg before looking back to you. "I'm just playing, doll. I'm planning on shooting them with paintball guns once they get out there, so you can't do the stunt."

With those words, a leg dropped down on yours, and you looked down towards your feet to see that he'd trapped the leg moving against his with his own.

"But, I'm sure I can get what I want in a different setting." He concluded, eyes flitting back up to yours. His fingers had now inched over your hand where his arm was next to yours on the arm rest, and you could feel the bandaid that was around his ring finger from picking up a broken bottle on set a couple of days prior.

"Oh yeah? And what exactly is that?" You were so thankful that it took a lot of weed to get you high, because you were afraid that you didn't sound as put-together as you thought you did. He seemed completely sober, and you could help but feel nervous about his hand on yours.

"Come on. I thought that was obvious." He drawled with a wide grin, leaning in close to your ear so that his breath tickled your skin. "I wanna see you bent over and spread in every pretty position I can think of."

"Whew. You pick up fast. I was afraid I was gonna have to get drunk and show you my tits." You laughed, turning slightly in your seat and setting your joint on top of your beer can so that your hands were free.

"Offer's still on the table." He teased, winking at you as he slowly brought your hand up before pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

"Well, how's this?" You then leaned in to kiss him, and were satisfied to see that he met you halfway there, your hand immediately pulling out of his to cup his cheek instead. Kissing Johnny Knoxville. Cross that off the old bucket list.

When you broke away, you were out of breath, and you could feel the way your heartbeat was going a million miles a minute as he leaned away to take another drag of his cigarette without a care in the world.

"You know, I hate it when you call me Knoxville. Sounds better when you're saying my real name." He said, brown eyes on yours as he spoke. The party was loud, and everyone was drunk and shouting at each other, but he spoke so calmly and quietly you almost didn't hear him.

"PJ Clapp. That's so much sexier." You said with a grin, waiting until he wasn't 100% paying attention to lean over your chair and mouth you owe me money to Bam and Ryan, who had just watched that entire exchange. He chuckled.

"Yeah, that's why I don't use it." He sighed, looking up at you once again after he had ashed his cigarette onto the grass between his feet. "You know, I'm a little old for you. I have gray hairs."

"They should call you Silver Foxville." You said dryly, rolling your eyes as you glanced to the limited space between your lips. You’d kissed him once, and now you really wanted it again. And again. "Your dick still works, doesn't it?"

"Thank you for proving that I'm not just a pretty face." He poked fun at your attention to that one certain thing, and he just proved his point with his wide grin. You shrugged, pushing your boldness to the highest level you could stand.

"Pretty face means nothing if you don't have a pretty dick." You said coyly, leaning away from him again to take another hit off of your joint and blow it away from him. You felt a surge of satisfaction as you saw the shaken look on his face. Considering the people he was friends with, you’d assumed he'd heard worse.

"Shit. You're making me fuckin' harder than Portland cement." He muttered, tilting your chin fully towards himself just as you were exhaling another cloud of smoke and pressing his lips to yours as you basically transferred your smoke right into his lungs. "Wanna feel?"

When you gave your hum of approval, you felt his hand on your wrist, and then he was pressing your palm into the bulge of his Dickies, a low groan escaping his lips as your fingers cupped his hard cock through his pants. You were thanking god that your chairs were facing away from everyone else in the group, because you were not a fan of the idea of pictures of what you and Johnny were doing at the moment.

"Fuck. Let's go somewhere else." You mumbled against his mouth, slowly pulling your hand away from him as your eyes darted towards the house that barely anyone else was in. You knew he would've been perfectly fine with you feeling him up to completion right there in the yard, but you were really trying to preserve your dignity, high or not.

"Come on. I know the house." He breathed, breaking away from you and dropping his cigarette under the toe of his close-to-destroyed converse before his eyes zeroed in on the spliff still between your fingers. There wasn't much left, but still enough to where you felt guilty about abandoning it. "And let me see that."

You handed it over hesitantly, half worried that he was going to give the joint the same treatment as his cigarette, but then let out a sigh of relief when he took a hit that had his eyes watering and smoke pouring out of his nose as he coughed. Wow. He really hadn’t been lying about taking a break.

Once he was satisfied with his hit, he handed it back over to you before taking your hand and beginning the walk through the sliding back door and into the house. You prayed for your tomorrow self's sake that no one was paying attention to you both, hoping that somehow the only two people going inside instead of coming out were going magically unnoticed.

"I should really be taking you back to my house. I feel bad." Johnny said as he closed the door behind you, his hand tightening in yours as he dodged expertly around the table and chairs that were moved messily all around the room. You scoffed.

"I don't give a fuck. We could be in a club bathroom for all I care." You said honestly, taking one last hit of your joint before setting the butt down on the kitchen counter as you passed by. His strides were much longer than yours, and you were hurrying to keep pace with him.

"Just how I like it." Just as he spoke, he gently nudged you into an open door, revealing a small bedroom which was quickly determined to be Star Wars themed. You frowned at him, to which he waved it off. "Scott's an eccentric decorator. He's got all themed bedrooms."

"Glad you picked the good one." You muttered as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his sunglasses from the top of his head and discarding them on the opposite edge of the bed. His fingers immediately danced over the bottom hem of your decently-short shorts (which you’d actually repeatedly caught him staring at throughout the day of both shooting and partying), pulling them up further over your ass before his hands were kneading your exposed skin.

"Take 'em off." He spoke into your mouth, his hands moving back upwards until his fingers laced their way into your hair so that he could hold you tighter against his kiss. You did as he requested easier than you were willing to admit, yanking them down your hips to reveal your black and white cotton thong. Kind of cheesy, but you didn't miss the way his eyes lit up when he noticed it.

There was a moment where he just studied you, and just as you was going to move in and try to shield yourself from his sharp gaze, his hand was on your lower back and he was gingerly knocking you back onto the bed. He was on you seconds after your head hit the galaxy-print pillows, his hands roughly rucking your legs up over his hips as his lips pressed back onto yours.

You knew you were fucked. You could tell by both the way your whole body shook from just his hungry kisses and the fact that you were already missing his presence when he was still on top of you. But you didn't even care enough to think about it. All you could think about was the fact that he was pulling your tank top over your head, and then his hands were on your tits. He broke your kiss to look down at you, one hand using his thumb to brush over your sensitive nipple as the other held your jaw so that you couldn't look away from him.

"Listen to me, sweetheart." He said breathlessly, biting his bottom lip as he looked down at you in a way that you had never once seen from him in the past four years of knowing him. It was making every part of you that craved him throb even more. "I'm gonna eat your pussy, and you're gonna be a good girl and let me, understand?"

That almost killed you right then and there. You had been pretty sure you were going to be screwed before, but now you were positive. Your legs were tightening around his hips with every word, and you could barely get yourself under control enough to give him a nod. He smiled in satisfaction, then gave you one last kiss before he was pulling out of your grasp, lips leaving a trail of soft kisses down your arm as he slid himself down further towards the edge of the bed.

"So fuckin' hot. Smell so fuckin' delicious." He said as he moved, his fingers nimbly dragging the waistband of your underwear right down your legs as he went along. It was ridiculously smooth, and it made you even wetter for him as you waited less-than-patiently for him to get his mouth on you.

"Please, PJ." You whimpered, legs jello in his hold as he trailed his tongue up your inner thigh. You weren’t someone who usually allowed yourself to be teased, but something about the way he was touching you had you so transfixed that you couldn't even be bothered to complain. He chuckled.

"Oh, I like it when you whine for me. Say my name one more time and I'll let you have what you want." He crooned, sinking his teeth gently into your sensitive skin. You arched your hips up in the direction of his mouth, eager to get some form of release in any way you could manage.

"PJ. Need you so bad." You whined again, lip drawn harshly between your teeth as you watched him with desperate eyes. There was a glint in his gaze that made your heart pound, and you practically saw stars when his lips finally moved to where you needed him, his tongue laving around your clit and down over your entrance in one smooth motion. "Holy shit."

"Shh. Be a good girl for me and keep your mouth shut." He muttered, only taking that split second to remove his mouth before it was back at full force, his lips sucking adamantly at your clit as his tongue weaved intricate symbols that had you rolling your hips against his mouth. Despite his telling you to shut up, you couldn't stifle the moans that welled their way into your throat, your voice high-pitched and strung-out on pleasure.

He brushed his tongue across your clit over and over again, occasionally licking down to push his tongue into your entrance, his fingers replacing his tongue on your clit each time he did so. It felt so good that you felt like you couldn’t see what was in front of you, your senses blinded and heavy with pleasure as he ate you out like no man had ever done before.

"You like everyone hearing how good I'm making you feel? 'S that why you can't control yourself?" He cooed as he removed his lips from my clit, a single finger pushing into you as a replacement as he gazed up at you with sly lust. You let out a disappointed gasp at the change in sensation, your clit aching in his absence. When he saw your face, a second finger followed his first, leaving his index and middle fingers curled inside you fully. "Who knew Y/n Y/l/n was such a pretty little slut."

"Please. Need more." Your voice was airy and distraught, fingers laced in the comforter on either side of you as you urged him to finish what he had originally started. You felt so close, yet so far.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head. You’re gonna get what you want." He promised, curling his fingers forward and pushing them upwards in a slow but precise movement that had your hips involuntarily jerking forward and the air rushing from your lungs. Jesus, he really was good.

He started to push his fingers against that sweet little spot inside of you slowly, his cheek pressed against your inner thigh as he watched his digits disappear into you over and over again. And then, just as you were beginning to think that it wasn't going to be enough, his dipped his mouth back to your pussy, his tongue pressing back against your clit as his fingers worked in and out of you.

Your eyes slammed shut as your head pushed back against the pillow, your chest heaving as you took in the obscene slurping sounds he was making with his tongue mixed with the wet sounds caused by his fingers. He shouldered your legs even further apart, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he stared up at you the entire time.

Your climax was approaching almost embarrassingly fast. Your late night fantasies of Johnny Knoxville's head between your legs was even hotter than you had imagined many times before, and the sight of him grinding his hips down into the bed with every swirl of his tongue was making your entire body thrum with heat.

"I can feel you squeezin' my fingers, dollface. Let me feel you cum on my tongue." Johnny encouraged as he continued to push his fingers into you, his free hand pushing on your hip to keep you from pushing up into his mouth as aggressively as you wanted to. Your moans and gasps were now way beyond your control, and your voice only got louder as your back arched up, your climax hitting you hard enough to make you see stars as your eyes fell back open.

You had half a mind to clap your hand over your mouth as you panted and whined through your orgasm, your free hand taking a handful of his dark brown hair and pulling as you came. He didn't stop his tongue and fingers until your voice gave out and you were forcibly gasping for air, your grip in his hair going lax as you came back down to earth.

"Holy fuck." You breathed, wincing when he pulled his fingers out of you and accepting him with open arms as he moved back up to look at you with gleeful eyes and a spit-soaked chin. You reached out and used the collar of his shirt to pull up and wipe his mouth off, only to have him immediately suck his equally-wet fingers into his mouth once you had dropped the fabric back down to his throat.

"Damn. Can't get you to shut your mouth no matter if you're gettin' finger-fucked or not." He said cockily as he pulled his fingers from his mouth and wiped them off on his shirt. When you gave him a dirty look, he leaned his head to the side to suck gently at your neck, the rumble of his baritone laugh tickling your skin. "Although, haven't fucked you yet. We'll see."

"I can't cum again so fast." You said in surprise as he began to undo the buckle of his KNOXVILLE belt, a hand moving to his chest as you looked up at him with wide eyes. Your legs were still shaking, and if you had been loud before, it was only going to get worse if he fucked you while you were so sensitive. He kissed you gently, his eyes locked on yours.

"You can take it. Look, you've already got your legs spread nice and wide for me." He reassured, his hand gripping your thigh as he ripped his belt from his belt loops. You weren’t quite reassured, but you fumbled to get the zipper of his pants down regardless, his lips on yours encouraging you to let him do whatever the hell he wanted with you.

Once he had completely gotten his pants undone with your help, he stood up to quickly shuffle them off along with his boxers, leaving him bare from the waist down in front of you. Your mouth practically watered at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking against the hem of his t-shirt. You barely gave him any time to stand there, pulling him back in with your fingers around his wrist before he was kneeling in front of your spread legs with his mouth half-open.

"You got a condom somewhere?" He asked suddenly, eyes unable to pull away from between your legs as he spoke to you. You mentally slapped myself, because of course you didn't have one, and since he was asking, he obviously didn't either. Unsafe sex was called unsafe sex for a reason.

However, you were too impatient to think rationally.

"No. You can just pull out." You said impatiently, watching as he gently pulled your legs back over his thighs. His gaze was so searing and yet his hands were more than careful with you, his touch so light it almost felt as if you were moving on your own.

"I like the way you think." He teased, pumping himself a few times as his eyes finally dragged their way back up to yours. "Be as loud as you want, gorgeous. I don't give a fuck."

You nodded as if you even had a choice, holding your breath as you felt the tip of his cock swipe through your pussy before he was slowly pushing himself into you. If there were any lingering thoughts in your head of anyone else you had ever even considered having sex with in the past, each and every one was erased with the drag of his cock inside of you. You both let out heated gasps, his hand tightening on your leg just above your knee and your head falling back once again. You were still a little sensitive from your last orgasm, and every touch felt like electricity as he slowly pushed his way completely inside of you.

"Fuck, you feel so good." He groaned, his hips stilling momentarily as you tensed at his length. As his tip brushed against your cervix with just his entering thrust, you knew you were in for it. You had seen him naked more times than you had previously been a fan of whilst working for Jackass, and at the time you had assumed he was a shower, but holy fuck was he a grower. It made another shudder of pleasure race up your stomach. "So fucking tight."

He didn't seem to be able to stand much time waiting, and before you knew it, he was slowly rolling his hips into you, his cock hitting every still-sensitive nerve as he fucked into you. You watched in ecstasy as he pulled the hem of his shirt up his muscled torso, biting it between his teeth so that he had both hands free to pull you forward on his cock.

"Oh. Right there. Right there." You gasped, moaning languidly as he picked up the pace of his hips and fucked right against the spot that he'd had his fingers against not three minutes before. He groaned in agreement, his head falling back and pulling his shirt further up his chest as he put all his movement into his hips.

You were really hoping that rubbing against the mattress while he'd been eating you out had gotten him at least a little close to cumming, because your second orgasm was quickly edging its way through your nerves as he fucked you hard enough to make the bed creak painfully loud. If anyone walked in through the unlocked door by that point, it was going to be their own fault.

"You look so good, takin' my cock like such a pretty little slut." Johnny purred, holding your legs open hard enough to make your muscles ache as he slammed into you over and over again. The pleasure was so good and so intense that your eyes were watering, and you could feel tears starting to track down the side of my face as you gripped helplessly at the sheets in a failed attempt to ground yourself with something. "You'd look so good with my cum dripping out of you."

You tried to mouth not funny, but all you could do was moan, his filthy words making you teeter dangerously on the edge of cumming before you were ready. You weren’t on birth control, but you weren’t exactly a big fan of making good decisions anyway, so you decided that if you weren’t able to get the words out, that you really didn't need to say them.

"Fuck, you want me to fill you up?" He questioned, his voice muffled by his t-shirt still between his teeth and his words followed by a low groan. "Fill you up like the good little slut that you are?"

You whined in agreement, nodding your head as best you could as you arched your back up further with every slam of his cock against your cervix. It was a pleasured pain, one that you knew you’d be feeling for the next couple of days.

"I'm gonna cum, princess." He whined, seconds before his hips stuttered and you felt him cum inside of you, warmth painting your insides as you let out a porno-style moan and came right there on the spot with him. That had to be a good sign for the both of you, right? "So goddamn good."

Your second orgasm was even more blinding, and your vision went white as your back arched up painfully, your fingers helplessly pulling at the bed as you whimpered and gasped with every wave of pleasure that coursed through your body. His hands stayed on your hips the entire time until you were verbally begging him to stop thrusting his cock into you, the wet sound of him pushing his cum back inside reaching your ears as he slowly moved to a stop.

"You sounded so good, baby. Did so good." He babbled, immediately falling forward to press his lips sloppily to your throat as his hips moved lazily as he thrusted his last bit of energy out. Your head was spinning and your legs and pussy were already aching in the sweetest way possible as you wrapped your arm around his neck.

"God, you're fucking good at that." You breathed, letting out a strangled gasp when he finally pulled out of you. Whoever used the Star Wars comforter next was going to notice a suspicious looking stain right in the middle of it next time they got into bed.

"I can't believe it took us this long." He said, his breath coming out in pants as he steadied himself with one hand on the mattress next to your head. You realized with the increased quiet inside the room that you could hear multiple people talking and shouting at each other from outside of the door, and you mentally cringed because you knew that were was no way that you hadn't been overheard.

"Everyone's gonna know." You mumbled, carding your fingers through his hair as you finally felt your breathing beginning to calm again. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, and it still hadn't slowed down either. It made you feel a little bit better about yourself. He pressed a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then your lips.

"Good. Then everyone will know that I'm the one who's giving it to you good, and I won't have any competition."

Oh yeah. You were done for.

[jungle-angel]

Out in the Middle: Part 10

Summary: Even in between competitions, the kids still find ways to go nuts

The small camping area amongst the many others on the rodeo grounds was crowded with the extended Dutton-Abbott clan as well as the ranch hands who were helping and even competing. The kids were also running wild with kids from other families, even making a few friends along the way. 

Rhett sank into the red and black Budweiser chair next to you, aching and sore from the bull riding competition and an obscene groan escaping his mouth as he took his place next to you in front of the firepit. “A little sore are we?” you teased. 

“Everything hurts,” Rhett groaned, kicking off his boots and sticking his feet close enough to warm his feet. “Even parts of me that I didn’t think existed.” 

“You get kicked?” 

“Nope,” Rhett answered. “Shoulder’s acting up again.” 

“Rhett James Abbott!!! You......!!!!” 

“Ok, darlin, before ya’ll say another word.....” 

“You said you were feeling better.” 

Rhett had opened his mouth to say something but the look on your face had told him to shut up lest he value the life of his nuts. “Ok.....ok.....ya’ll got me.” 

“The hell I do,” you told him. “I love you, but these kids are gonna need you around for as long as possible......and so won’t I.” 

Rhett kissed your cheek, pulling you and your chair a little bit closer to him. “Believe me darlin I plan on it,” he told you. “I ain’t goin till I’m an old man in my bed and with you by my side.” 

You felt his fingers curling together with yours, the fire crackling away, the smell of steaks cooking on the grill and the organized chaos of the campgrounds all around you. “Uh oh,” you chuckled. 

“What now?” Rhett mumbled, his head slowly lifting from your shoulder. 

“Looks like Teeter’s come bearing a gift.” 

“Oh God no,” Rhett groaned. 

Sure enough, there was Teeter in her beat up Carhardt, mud stained boots, ripped jeans and Astros baseball cap, holding two little blonde boys by the scruffs of their necks. Tate walked beside her as well, a sheepish look on his face and next to him a little redheaded boy whose face was littered with freckles, a pair of black rimmed glasses on his face and wobbling on his unsteady legs wrapped in their braces. 

“I think two o’ these lil animals belong to ya’ll Rhett Abbott,” she announced. 

“The hell did they get into now?” Rhett half laughed.  

“Well,” Teeter said, adjusting her hat a little. “Might be best if I leave’em ta tell the tale themselves.” 

Rhett motioned for the four children to come forth and sit in front of him and you. “Alright,” he said. “Ya’ll knuckleheads are gonna tell me what happened from beginning to end and no bullshit.” 

“Well,” Tate began. “Me, Tatum and Tanner were all done helping Aunt Teeter and she said we could go play.” 

“She said she’d give us a dollar each if we made a new friend,” Tanner added. 

“So now she owes us three bucks!!!!” Tatum declared happily. 

“Ok ok,” Rhett told him. “So you two made a new friend, this one I presume? What’s your name kid?” 

“Norman,” the freckle faced kid answered. 

“Yeah, Norman doesn’t walk so good,” Tatum pointed out. 

“But his mom and dad let him come play with us ‘cause they thought it’d be good for his legs,” Tanner added. 

“Alright,” you said. “Then what happened?” 

“Amber Warner,” the four boys all said at the same time. 

You and Rhett looked at each other as he made a face. He should’ve known that the little brat would be out for revenge after having come in dead last in the barrel racing tournament. 

“Her brother started pickin on Norman,” Tatum explained. 

“And so didn’t she,” Tate added. 

The boys went silent for a full minute, you and Rhett knitting your eyebrows together in confusion as to why they had stopped. “You guys not tellin us something?” Rhett asked them. 

Tate, Tatum, Tanner and Norman all bit their lower lips, trying to conceal the shit-eating grins that threatened to break out on their faces. It was then that you and Rhett both realized they had done something that neither of them would have ever considered doing in their wildest dreams. 

“What.....did......you......do?” Rhett asked them. 

“We lured’em into a bullpen and they both went face first into the mud,” Tanner snickered. 

Rhett bit his knuckles and you started laughing. “Buddy, I hate to tell ya’ll but that ain’t mud in there,” Rhett said, trying to keep it together. 

The four boys looked at each other wide-eyed and in shock, the two of you half expecting them to be grossed out. “ALRIGHT!!!!!” they cheered, high fiving each other. “WE MADE’EM EAT SHIT!!!!!!!!” 

They high fived each other and took off from their spots, hooting and hollering about how they had made the two bullies “eat shit” in the bullpen. Once they were out of earshot, you and Rhett burst out laughing. “Are they even in trouble?” you asked him. 

“Hell no darlin,” Rhett laughed, his face turning a bright shade of pink. “I’ll let’em each have a soda with dinner tonight.” 

You both would eventually have to have the talk with the boys about the matter, but deep down, you both couldn’t have been prouder.

[carrdfan]

Eddie Brock x Reader

summary : Eddie's thoughts were becoming more and more destructive. Yet a night with you, a familiar bartender, it gives him hope he majorly needed

main tags : angst with comfort of a sort , female reader

notes : venom's entire presences isn't known to anyone yet

The room was quiet, even though there were countless others chatting the night away.

The soothing jazz, the appealing décor, it's no wonder why this bar was so popular when it came to the people in the city.

Yet for an unfortunate man, the comforting atmosphere was just not enough to calm him and his stress. With the recent lost of his relationship and job, Eddie couldn't keep his head up for once, something he did towards to many people.

The music was barely reaching to him, he was losing himself in the unforeseen void that was eating him away. He felt his paranoia grow as the distant chatter formed into laughter. Mocking him for how much of a fool he was and how he truly fucked up.

Any moment now he would break. Eddie knew that one more crack would be the thing that does him in, the thing that will forever ruin him.

"Eddie? You ok?"

Eddie flew his head up to his name, in front of him stood you, who was casually cleaning out a beer glass while facing and looking back at him.

Y/n, a well-loved bartender who enjoys her job. She was the chipper one in the group, making witty jokes, and always managed to help the workers look more forward towards their shift. Yet despite how favored she was, almost no one seemingly knew anything else about her.

If you were to ask, everyone's memories of her consisted of running jokes she came up with that person specifically, not many could recall anything else the overall jokes when it came to Y/n. No one knows what she feels behind her bright smile, and everyone was too distracted by her cheerful acts to dig deeper into it.

"Ah... Yeah, yeah, I'm doin' fine." Eddie attempted to casually brush off the concern, he felt like Y/n may not be the best when it comes to being the person someone would complain their heart out to.

"... You seem too troubled to be 'doin' fine.'" Y/n casually commented, her response made Eddie freeze for a second. She stopped cleaning the glass cup and placed it in its proper place, waiting to be picked up again when the next guy comes in shouting how he wanted Budweiser, or whatever beer was popular for tonight.

While being at a closer distance, Y/n grabbed a chair and took a seat, still looking away and focusing on what was on the T.V.

"You caught me. I ain't doin' the best right now... But what's got you so invested?" Y/n slowly turned her head to Eddie before giving him a big grin, it made her thought process unpredictable almost.

She rested her head down on the table, using her arms as some sort of pillow. "Nothing in particular, just couldn't help myself for asking. So, in any case, what's got you down?"

Childish, is what Y/n was almost all the time. Yet in a moment like now, she showed sparks of being the adult she actual was. Maybe it was a moment of desperation to let out his feelings, or maybe it was because she managed to give off such a pleasing figure right now. Either way, Eddie could barely catch himself as he casually gets the weight off his chest with Y/n.

"Have you... Has there ever been a time in your life where it all just seems meaningless? Hopeless?" There was a moment of pecking silence, Eddie looked at Y/n waiting for a response. Her eyes were closed and Eddie could've sworn she had passed out on him right then and there if she hadn't opened one eye as she stared back.

"Yeah. It's enviable basically. Why, did you have a recent epiphany?" The question felt more of a targeted callout, a reminder of all the events that went down. Eddie took a deep exhale before responding.

"Yep. Lost it all in the matter of a few days, now I just.. Don't know what to do anymore." In the back of Eddie's mind, he took a grip on himself. 'Why am I telling her this? I barely know her.'

He was barely able to snap back and hear the next words that came out of Y/n, "I mean yeah, honestly, I'd lose my shit if that all happened personally... I believe every adult is on the verge of cracking, and to have that happen? Lose everything I had worked so hard for? I'm surprised you aren't on the news, being on the wanted list 'cause that would've been my final push." Y/n swiftly swings her head back to look at the television.

Out of everyone in here who would have such an introspect like that, the last person Eddie would believe to have it would be Y/n. "What do you know about being on the low side? Hell, you're nothing but the opposite honestly."

In the eerie pause of silence, Eddie felt disturbed as Y/n sat back up and slowly locked eyes with him while carrying a smile that was a bit too big for the type of conversation they were having.

"I'm an adult too Eddie, please don't be like everyone else and forget that."

Even with the silence broken, the air still felt disturbing as he took in her words, but before he could respond, Y/n got out of her chair and took a stretch. "Well, the usual loud crowd should be here any minute now."

She popped her knuckles in kiddy exaggeration. A mere 180° from what she was a mere moment ago. "I liked our talk, should do it more. I mean, even the ditz can be tired of themselves, y'know?"

She soon pats Eddie on the shoulder lightly, "Hang in there for me soldier, I don't wanna have these types of conversations with nothing but your dead corpse one day." The joke was caught, but for a situation like this, it did nothing but make Y/n's figure even more ambiguous.

Before he could respond, a loud outburst came from the entrance and caught Eddie's attention. It was a group of men, entering the bar, laughing and disturbing the peaceful atmosphere.

Eddie looked back at Y/n one last time, who was irritated and rolled her eyes to the sight. She did the same to Eddie as they locked eyes one last time before she walked off into the back room.

It felt short, but the talk the both of them shared tonight gave Eddie multiple feelings. He felt reassured and comforted, yet clueless in a way as he had many questions for Y/n that never got a chance to be asked.

Either way, Eddie was definitely planning on making a return for the next few nights. Y/n's strange mannerisms managed to puzzle and captivate him.

She was a book, and he wanted to read and understand her. Especially after tonight.