#It's real Big Stupid hours tonight folks

[jev-urisk]

Morreial's heist supplies: Tag Game ✨️

Original game by @thecomfywriter (Post HERE). Thanks for the tag @the-golden-comet!

Premise: Write your OC using these tools (from Ch. 18 of Throne of Vengeance) to commit a heist involving an armored vault. A piece of string, a lantern, oil, matches, a book, a cup, an enchanted shovel, and a pair of gloves. And, a navy blue Henley

Love, LOVE this prompt. It's perfect for Kazimier💋, my shapeshifting incubus OC from my WIP 🌐7 Circles🌐

It's kinda spoiler-y, because it goes over some of Kazimier's abilities and really shows the kind of bastard he is. You've been warned.

Tonight is your final meeting with this criminal. Kazimier smirks behind his drink, an appraising glint in his mismatched eyes. "You wanna know how I did it?" he teases. He knew you did, but wanted to hear you say it anyway.

"How did you steal it?"

He leans back, swirling his glass. "So the safe in this fancy hotel was owned by a Nexi couple, right? They shipped the damn thing down from Nexis years ago an' had it installed in their always-booked penthouse suite. I woulda' sacked it a decade ago but this safe has an arcane lock, capisce?"

You shake your head no, and he rolls his eyes.

"Magic technology, unpickable. An' the only way to open this particular lock is to touch their wedding rings to this weird circle on the front, yeah? So the first thing I do is track down a mediocre fairy lantern replica."

"Wait, what?" you can help uttering, and it earns you a scoff.

"What? It's not like faeries are real, an' if they were they'd appreciate how stupid some folks are over their alleged arda'facts. The husband was one such stupid folk, and after broadcastin' that someone on the black market found a new lantern, a few fake death threats, and a well-placed comment made by a poker dealer- I got him to agree to a meeting in a car. One of them fancy Nexi ones that comes with a driver an' I made sure the person at the wheel is one on my payroll. I arrive as a representative of the auction house, shapeshifted to look like a vampiress."

"Wait, so you-"

"Had tits, yes. Along with long brown hair, skinny ankles, and a pencil skirt shorter than your attention span."

You grimace, "I wasn't going to ask about you having, uh.."

"-AAAnnyway, the moment I set down my briefcase bag it starts leakin' a sleeping gas and I keep him distracted. Soon enough he's out like a light and I crack open the hollowed out copy of 'Auctions Uncatalogued: A Dry Fuckin' History Book' for a few supplies. I knew he was a thicc bastard, so I came prepared with some oil and string to get the ring off, as well as gloves to keep the guy's taste outta my brain."

"What does that mean??"

"I'm not gonna explain how to get little rings offa big fingers, bud. Ask the internet. OH, I also filched his shirt- a blue henley kinda' thing, and his slacks. The car keeps movin' and I use his weird-Nexi-phone to call his broad, who is very occupied in some high-stakes gambling and tell 'er using her husband's voice that I need her ring to make an exchange of some Nexan technology in the safe for the super legit fairy lamp some vampire just showed me. I shapeshift into the husband, put on his clothes, and am in and out of the casino without the broad suspecting a thing. She hands me the ring, I complain bitterly about her not spendin' enough time with me, she tells me not now and goes back to her gambling. Perfect marriage. An hour later I've exchanged their top-grade arcane technology for a dinky old lamp and am waitin' around for the wife to show up." Kazimier finishes, quirking his brow as he drinks some of his cocktail.

After a few moments it seems like he;s truly done, but it might be another instance of him leading you to egg him on. "Well what happened when the wife showed up?" you ask, hooked despite yourself.

Kazimier's grin widens, "She found a brown-haired vampress in her penthouse wearing nothing but her husbands blue henley." He takes in your expression and keeps going, "The broad probably would've killed me if I didn't 'confess' that her husband had just left for the bar in the lobby with the other girl. Boy did that lie get her back out the door in an instant. From there I put a little oil in a glass cup, light it with a match, an' drop the little moltov offa' the balcony. A signal to get in position. I count to sixty and jump off myself- make my getaway."

You lean back, taking in the convoluted mind you're sitting with tonight, somewhat stunned. "Wait- Why did you need to borrow my enchanted shovel, then?" you add, happy that it was returned to you clean and unharmed the moment you sat down but curious since Kazimier said it was needed for this heist.

"Oh, that? I killed the husband." Kazimier says with a casual shrug.

"You used my shovel to bury a Nexan?!" you hiss, leaning forward. This wasn't what you expected at all when Kazimier offered you a deal.

Kazimier leans forward, all the humor gone from his face, only the tilt of his head hinting at his amusement. "I used your very unique shovel to kill, a Nexan, sunshine." He kills his drink and with a parting chuckle you and your shovel are left behind, tools that have fulfilled their use and you realize with ice in your blood why Kazimier just told you everything.

Tonight is your final meeting with this criminal.

Taggames: Taggames: @katenewmanwrites @smellyrottentrees @wyked-ao3 @lychhiker-writes @cowboybrunch @zackprincebooks @urbiggestfan-01 @quillswriting @tragedycoded

[thatcheeseycandle]

//YOU LOT KNOW WHTA TIME IT IS ITS REACTION TIME

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRETY OF IPOS CHP. 34 BTW!!

(THIS IS A FULL READING OF THE CHAOTER, BUT I DONT EXACTLY WRITE DOWN EVERY SINGLE REACTION I HAVE TO STUFF UNFORTUNATELY)

Okay OKAY AIGHT LOVE THE TITLE CARD AND TITLE ITSELF

Wait WAIT OLIVIA TECIEVES WHAT NOW???????

Sigh well- CLUN CASTLES GONNA BE A REAL PAIN IN THE [REDACTED] TONIGHT FOLKS

Oh OH TRURO- THE HUSBANDS ARE HUSBANDING TOGETHER RN THE FLUFF IS STARTING

"As he should, this stupidity between the both of you has gone on long enough" LMAOAOAODJDHDHDH NAH NAH THAYS SO REAL OF TRURO NGL

Oh???? OH???? SORRY I GOT CAUGHT OFF GUARD BY THE SUDDEN CUT IN FROM GADWALL

"I don't think I could handle losing her and North." NO STOP- NEARLY FORGOT THAT FOR A MOMENT.

WELL ISNT THIS CHAPTER GONNA STING HUH

"I thought I could help Mallard get better." NO GADWALL YOU DID OKAY YOU GOT HIM A LITTLE BETTER AND AT LEAST YOU TRIED. GOOD GOSH-

WHY DID THAT HIT HARD

Yeah YEAHAHAHHH THERE IS A CHANCE YES THERES SO MANYYYYY CHANCES LEFT LET DGOOOOODHJSJD

Wait wait GO BACK WITH PROTEUS???? THE SPIRIT REALM OR??????? NOTING THIS DOWN. NOTING IT.

Wait WIAIFHHAHAHAHAHSH

"Tell me, Cousin, is Bittern still afraid of birds?" OOOHOHJHAHSHZHX BOY OKAY IM LOOKING. IM LOOKING

HAGDGSHGFDH GIVE EME A SEC TO BREATHE

Oh Truro I couldnt of had said it better knowing it too HGSHAHAHAHAHFHXHFKGNVLRKDMG

Oh. OH GOD. CLUN CASTLE. HERE WE GO. HERE WE GO. IS CLUN CASTLE TIME. OKAY. PREPARING MENTALLY

"Trying to figure out a way to get out of her predicament." oh OH REALLY? YOU SNEAKY LITTLW [REDACTED] YOU THOIGHT YOU CLUTCHED ON THIS HUH? NAH NAH YOU AINT. YOU AINT CLUTCHING THIS BUCKET CLUTCH CLUN CASTLE

LMSODHDH TROJAN AND CLUN CASTLE, YOU SHOULDVE LET TROJAN FINISH-

AND HERE WE ARE THE PERSON OF THE HOUR CAERPHILLY CASTLE

Im sorry. CLUN CAATLE. DO NOT. NO NO DO NOT DEAD NAME NO. WORSE THAN USING TRUE NAMES WITHOUT PERMISSION THAT IS.

"You have lost the privilege to address any and all Great Western Engines!" YEAH YOU TELL HER! SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK RQ RQ

Ay AY AY AY SOUTHERN SIBLINGS????? SOUTHERN SIBLINGS

Yo YOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOOYOYOYOYOYISIHSHAHHFUDHCHFJJD TAW VALLEY AND BRAUNTON

THOSE TWO- YKNOW I WONDERED WHERE THEY WERE IN THE STORY BUT FINALLY THEYRE PULLED INTO THE MAIN ONES WOOOOOOOOO

Im sorry WHAT YOU CALLING DOTTI OVER HERE?????? CLUN CASTLE DO NOT-

insert me rambling irl to a relative whos in the same room as me about yeah the current situation

.

ABLITTLE DRAMA? A LITTLE? YOUR BEING A LITTLE ITTY BITTY BRAIN-CELLED BITCH RIGHT NOW YKNOW THAT?

Yeah YEAHAAHHHH TELL HER CAERPHILLY CASTLE. TELL HER.

Yeah SWEET TALK AINT GONNA WORK UNFORTUNATELY CLUN CASYLE.

Oh there she is THERE SHE IS THE LITTLE BITCH TOO FAR UP HER OWN TENDER

Oh gosh OKAY UH STRAPPING IN FOR SOME YEAH ANGER

HERE WE GO

EXACTLYYYYYYY

SAY IT LOUDER AND PROUDER CAERPHILLY CASTLE

BECAUSE IT IS CORRECTTT

I.

YOU LIYYLE ITUTY BITTY

YEAH UH. BAHALA KA NA CLUN CASTLE KASE JUSKO PO YOUR HOPELESS NA

MORE HOPELESS THAN THE POOR ON THE STREET.

You are just digging your stinger into silicone you itty bitty BRAIN-CELLED BUZZY LITTLE BITCH

SHES JUST GONNA GOSSIP AND GOSSIP MORE AND MORE NOT SPARING A DETAIL ABOUT HOW HORRID YOU ARE YKNOW THAT CLUN CASTLE?

Yeah yes YESSS YOU TELL HER OFF DOTTI YOU GO ALL OUT

GO ALL OUT

HGAHSGSHGDDH BRAUNTON YOU SHOULDVE LET GO OF HER AND LET HER DO IT HAGDHFBFKF IT WOULDVE BEEN REFRESHING JDHFJDJD

Oh gosh OH GOSH. HERE COMES THE BIG DING OF THE BELL

Ayyy AYYYYYYYYYYYYY LET SGOGOHOOOOOOOOOOO

OH DAMN.

OH MY GOSH?????? THATS

THATS EITHER SATISFYING OR SHOCKING

YEAHAHAHDHDHHAHAHAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

LETS GOGOOGOOOOOOO

YOU GOT YOUR CHANCES YOU LITTLE SHIT YOU REALLY WASTED THEM ALL YOU REALLY MESSED UP THIS HARD MORE HARD THAN DISNEY'S WISH YOU REALLY SLIPPED AND FALL

YUP LEFT ALL YOUR CHANCES AT THE WRONG STOP

DROPPED EHM AAAALLLLLLLL

YEHAHAHAHAHHHHHH MAKE SURE ITLL BE ROCKY ROADS FOR HER HENRY

"Nobody's gonna miss ya!" EXAAAAAAAAACCTTTLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

God my thumb HSGDHGAHDHXHD

OUGH GOSH THAT BIT WAS SATISFYING AS HECK

BYE BYE BITCH HASGDHHFHF

Ay AY OLIVIA

OLVIOAIAVOSHDJDHD SHES AWAKE

Ay AY AY AY WDYM WISH

Wish. WAIT THIS CONFIRMS- THIS MIGHT CONFIRM ONE OF MY THEORIES BEING THIS ONE

Thank GOSH I know how to pin messages on discord

Repaired RPEUAJAHAVSBZBSVhhshshagsgdvhHSGSVSKJSJSHSHSHAJhhvajzhxjAHSHHFB

POLYYYD YH AHSHSHSHJAJSJD

Ay ay AY AY POLLYYYYSHSVJSHSHAHAHHDJDJDHDHD

SHES CALEDONIAN VLUE NO WAYAYHSHDHDHDHDH OHFMAHAHHAHX

I VERY MUCH AGREE WITH YOU OLIVIA, IT WILL LOOK STUNNING

AWWERUFHFHFH I LOVE THESE TWO

YAYYYYSYHFHSHAHAHHSDHDHSJDHJS THEYRE BAVK THEYRE ALIVE LETS GOGOGOIAJAHSGWHHSHD

WE ALL GETTING A SLICE OF THE CAKES WE LOVE

"I see, like what has happened to you and Olivia" THE [REDACTED] YOU MEAN???????

Wait. THIS WHOLE TIME- WAIT WIAT WAIT

SO OLIVIA ISNT A HYBRID, HER BODY JUST GOT

OHHHSBSHDV ITS LIKE MEDICINE

I

Oh she wasnt human pala

This confirms- WAIT ITS BASICALLY THIS:

Obviously now building up to, what it says, an entirely new plot. But now while having bits of past plots mixed from wjat I can guess

Im sorry HIGHLANDER???? NONONONONO- IM SORRY?????

A GOLD DUST

IM GONNA DIE WJAT

Oh [REDACTED] here comes it all

Preparinh myself okay Im strapoing in Im gettibg my backside comfy on my pillows yeah Im just

IM DCARED

I was right to be scared

Nono no Olivia no NO. OLIVIA.

"Why can't I do anything right!!"

insert current me typing out this cause past me had a long pause of silence staring at that line

Tearing up counter: 1

OKAY RIGHT MOVING ON-

(Im not moving on)

Ay AY AY AY AY THE BIT

THE DUCK AND ARROW BIT

"I was almost turned into ab exhibit piece because of him."

"Yet he was the reason Olivia sold you to Sodor."

COR RECT. CORRECT DING DING DING CORREEEEEEEECCTTTT

SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK

Ay AY PERCYCYCYYYY

Cheshire CTAAHHAHSHDHFJ

WE LOVE A HAPPY PERCY

heleyhahaha HS GE SGSHDH ARROW- ARROW CALM HDHFJFHF

Why was that bit from Arrow so relatable though like HEKDHSJSHDH

Anyways IM BACK RIHHT SORRY I JUST HEADED DOWNSTAIRS TO JUST EAT SOME BREAD WHILE READING THIS

"I apologise, I get excited when I want to learn new things" REALEST. THING. SAID. EVER

Keeping that quote with me on a sticky note irl rq sec-

WE GIVING LYELL SOME LOVE OVER HERE WOOOO

Oh Tydfil TYDFIL

“I can’t stand being alone with my thoughts. They go around in circles and drive me insane.” SAME HERE. SAME HERE TYDFIL DW.

Can we get some appreciation for all the characters we all relate to rq? LIKE GOOD GOSH- Im sorry its just Tydfil either has dialogue that hits me hard so much like deep DEEP deeper than ever or just is brutally honest HSGDHGSSHHSHD

I still love her though, still one of ny top five favs in YIAU

Speaking of honesty ARROW IS BEING VERY HONEST. ALL OF THAT WAS REAAALLL FACTS

“Chin up, she’ll be out soon. Same can’t be said for Clun Castle.” Oh Arrow are you gonna love what Dotti has to say HAGHAHASHGD

LMAOAOOAOSHFHD DUCKS REACTION I SWESR

“It’s not often that you piss off everyone on the mainland and believe me, I would know, I’m an expert at it.”

"There was an awkward pause."

HGGAHGAHAHAGXHXHF NAH NAH WHY DID I WHEEZE SO HARD AT THAT LIKE LNAODHDHSHSG

AYYYYY I LOVE THESE LOT

New fav found family/squad ever

"Oh but they just started interacting now in this bit you can immediately like the-" OI. I LOVE THESE LOT, I ALREADY LIKED MOST OF THEM ON THEIR OWN AND NOW THEYRE INTERACTING MAKES ME LOVE THEM MORE

“You’re very welcome, Young Iron.” AY AY I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE HAHSGDHHXXJ

Alrughty ALRIGHRY WE GETTING DRAGGED BACK INTO THIS PLOT NOW LETS GO

I just read that bit and to say Im bamboozled is an understatement.

I. IM SHOOK- OKAY. YEAH SOMEONE CALL IN LIKE IDK KESTREL TO COMFORT TJIS 6 FOOT WOMAN RIGHT NOW. IM YEAH. IM SCARED EITHER FOR HER OR OF HER.

NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE INTERESTING FOR SURE

But of course, ending off this reaction. I HAD MINI HEART ATTACKS LIKE HAGSHDGSH WOO OKAY THAT WAS A WAKE UP CALL REALKY GOT MY BRAIN GOING HAGSJAHSHD

THANKS TO THE LOVELY BAKUNAWA AKA REDWRYVERNWRITES (I finally FINALLY SPELT IT RIGHT) FOR CREATING SUCH A MAGNIFICENT CHAPTER YET AGAIN, I'LL BE EXCITED FOR THE NEXT ONE!! ^^

[the-firebird69]

Watch "E-dirt Bikes are Killing It | Hard Enduro on Sur Ron" on YouTube

Dave s is challenging his friends family and some of his enemies to the first annual or biannual or bi-monthly night Time bum race

On the local BMX track which is of course not exactly legal it's attached the high school but usually get a slap on the wrist unless you're an idiot

John r

We accept we'll be there we know what time and place and I'm bringing the rum so I have to have a spare battery cuz it's heavy

Bg

We're going to record it I'm going to show that these bikes work on the track pretty good and that we can raise them and it's faster and it's a lot more fun than the BMX bikes which suck and you can see they suck here these are the light dirt bikes and they're not even BMX and they suck the ride is so hard you want to go home and cry even the shocks when you always wipe out with these fat tires you don't wipe out that much that's a lot of fun his idea is great this is what we do and we can bring trucks and offload them and stuff but he says you're just going to do a couple laps and you might get caught so that changes things doesn't it it becomes more real that's what it's about. We have to test this. We can do a street race too they're not really illegal and people ride bikes in a bunch but the cops will watch and see if we stop at a stop sign and it's not a formal race and there's a perfect route it's way out where the houses are I've seen a few bites at the same time they ride in the group it's no big deal and cops usually don't stop you so let's get this going and see by weekly bum race series and we're going to have it on the road the sidewalks and the track and trails yeah we do have trails folks and they're fun and I have bikes that are a lot more powerful and they last a lot longer and they go a lot faster

Dave s

I've got one that goes like 35 miles an hour and it lasts for about 30 miles an hour going 30 and when you go 20 it goes about 60 miles it's very intense it's a red one that looks real expensive and a friend seen it they can't remember the name of it he thought it was really cool but expensive and it is it's like 3500 bucks? And he can't afford a ticket either

Guy w the red bike that was at Publix during the hurricane I know I'm not a clone

There's a huge number of us who want to race and he means Tommy F clone. And we want to race this bum race is the best thing I've ever heard. It might actually turn into a circuit cuz they don't really race these he says real simple you limited by the Waters of the motor and that makes everybody equal and several what shape you're in and how you ride and your tires condition and you have different races and different tires but right now it's a bum race so you go out there with what you got you can take some stuff off we can put stuff on I like signs and Trump things and bumper stickers or that thing the lady has the two fans that are going or streamers or basically just painted something stupid and we call it stupid but it's not stupid to you I'm going to go ahead and sign up for this wherever I can I have to show up for it

Terry c

We have to have some problems to solve or something to do and I've got a e-bike shop and this will help out we can go a little faster and get places but we want to see what's going on it is a great idea and we can organize meetups and we don't have to be slobs but the bum race is an interesting idea. And we're going to start the races tonight and for money and that's really going to start things all over the place

Trump

And I'm going to make a trophy and it's going to have a bum on it they have them too it's like this gold trophy with this guy with his pants down his bum showing we're going to do that I tell you this sounds like a lot of fun and we'll take pictures we can put it on Facebook and stuff and run it on YouTube I don't know we're not doing anything at all this is so damn boring

Bg

And we're trying to rope them into it and he has rear end is worried about and we all do but it's the only way it can get stuff so it's probably going to start pretty good

Trump

Problems are really seriously thinking of doing that to his bike but I'll probably get into the race too

Mac maybe daytime first

I don't believe this there's a lot of people who want to do this and he looked at the track only like a month ago and it looks fine there's some stuff in the way and part of it I will have to look at that and see what it is I might zoom over there and check it out

Bg

Let me know and I can post it later

Caa

Will do

Bg

Good

Hera

Let's try guys I don't think you can use that one well we're going to use it and I don't think the kids are it's so lame so if they say what are you doing they'll say we're going to see if we can rent this I want to see if it would work and it might work

Trump

Lol hahahaha we're testing it out we know what you're saying

Mac

[xgryffinwhore]

september nights

request:  i was wondering if you could write another soft bill smut? i don’t really have a specific plot in mind, we’re just really lacking content on tumblr rn :( in some really precarious place where they don’t want to get caught

warnings: soft smut, like i mean very soft.

word count: 2118

before your lips met bill denbrough’s, love was always, to say the least, a conundrum. lets be real for second, boys wasted your time, and you let them. only the cute ones of course. you are a hopeless romantic, drunk off of molly ringwald and john travolta films. you wanted any relationship you had to be just like the movies.

through your heart breaks, your best friends stood by you, your losers. eddie, richie, bev, stan, ben, and bill. for each tear you shed a punch was thrown to the man who caused it, they were protective over you. bill the most though, he always got so defensive when you were in the mix. all throughout middle & high school, bill has had to deal with every guy who even dares to think about breaking your heart.

“its not fair bill” you wailed into your pillow. he stroked your back and hushed you, his eyes welling with tears. “im never fucking good enough for any guy and its so fucking sad!” your complaints being cut off mid sentence by a choked out cry. “y-y/n. all of y-your boyfriend are i-idiots. anyone w-who would d-d-do this to you isnt w-worth your t-time. anyone w-would be the luckiest in the w-world to have y-you in their life” you picked your head up and looked at him with swollen lips and blood shot eyes “there no one out there for me bill, no one.” 

he bit his lip, fighting back any tears dripping from his eyes “they j-just dont see how p-pretty you are. how g-gentle and caring and s-s-sweet, and h-how your face c-can light up any room. theyre f-fucking idiots, and you d-deserve m-more.” you clearly thought he was being nice, because you could take a MOTHER FUCKING GOD DAMN hint, so you replied “i wish there was someone out there like you, for me, that thinks of me the way you do.” 

he furrowed his brows, tossing his head back and running his fingers furiously through his hair. “d-dammit y/n!” he cursed “cant you s-see what ive b-been trying to say? w-w-what ive been t-trying to say f-for the last f-five years!?!” your expression was bewildered, your brain was going a mile a minute trying to figure out what he meant. his frustration got the best of him, he got up and stormed out the door,  feeling embarrassed and stupid for trying to make you understand how he felt.

he was half way out your front door, fuming for his keys lodged deep into his front pocket; when suddenly:

“bill!”

his head turned at the call of his name, “y-y/n please i d-”

smack.

your lips locked with his, he rain pouring heavily outside. bills lips stilled at the contact, but this lasted briefly, he deepened this kiss by pulling you in to his abdomen by your mid back. your bunched the front of his base ball t shirt with your fists, and he did the same but with your hair.

the rest is basically history.

now six months later, and you couldnt have been happier. bill knew how to treat you, nights out twice a week (you always wanted to pay but bill insisted,) holding your hand to and from classes, he let you borrow have his varsity baseball jacket, which smelt just like him and was a little too big for you. 

when he would drop you off and your classes, he would always grab your hand and transfer a tiny piece of paper into your palm. when you got into class to unfold it, it was always a cute little message about his love for you. 

bill had it bad for you, everyone knew that, and you loved every minute of it. he met every and any standard you had, and exceeded your expectations. 

it was september, still warm enough in derry to wear shorts, so you and your friends thought of a last hurrah for the ending of the summery weather.

“camp out, its nearly perfect” Richie exclaimed. eddie rolled his eyes “like youve ever been near anything perfect toizer, do you even know what perfect means?” richie shoved eddie “yeah eddie i actually have. have you seen amanda’s tits?”

 you tuned out richie and eddies bickering as you’re boyfriend cleared his throat. “you g-gonna go?” he said into your ear, “only if you promise to wear bug spray bill, you know how bad-” he cut you off with a kiss, his mouth forming a small smile at how cute you were. “get a room, honestly” stan poked, pda wasn’t his favorite... “at least i h-have something to k-kiss aye s-stannie”

you arrived at the edge of the forest, parking your car at the last parking ish space. you walked toward the sounds of ben and richie fighting, and came to see that richie really went all out. three tents, sticks for a fire, and more snacks than anyone needed. 

you all spent the remanence of the daylight dancing in the light sky, sharing stories, and eating waaaay too many chips. it was dark now, you all huddled in a circle near the fire; making small talk and trying not to admit you were all very tired.

“ok folks, im off to bed” richie yawned “me stan eddie n’ mike will take the green tent, bev and ben in the red.” richie paused and smirked over at you and bill, you were tangled in his limbs, golfed in his navy blue pull over. “and uh- heh- billy boy and y/n in the yellow tent eh?” you could practically feel bills eye roll, god richie was so immature.

“w-we dont have to s-sleep in the s-s-same tent, i c-can ask ben if he’d s-switch” you look up at bill and reassure him “bill no- its not a big deal, right?” he tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses the side of your temple “c-course not.”

you both went into the tent, bill began to unroll the blankets you both had packed tightly into your bags. You both set up your makeshift bed, bill leaned against a pile of pillows while you hugged his side, your face buried in his neck. his smell was absolutely intoxicating; his skin had remanence of his milk and honey body wash, but it was slightly overpowered by wintergreen, clove, and his bourbon cologne. 

you were like this for around an hour, the orange crank-powered lantern being the only source of light. you switch positions though, you now laid your head on his lap, reading a magazine you stole from the hair salon. he watched your eyes scan every letter, when you read something funny you’d huff to yourself, and when something was intresting you stuck your tongue out from between your teeth. he adored you.

“d-dont stay up t-too late” he stroked your hair off your shoulder “we have t-to have you w-well r-r-rested.” you sat up from beside him, as he adjusted the pillows and took off his pull over, then his pants. he got under the covers and waited for you.

“nice donut boxers” you laughed. “s-shut up” he blushed and regreted not changing them when he had the chance. you turned around took off your shirt, you were shy about how you looked, but it was just bill. it was just bill. you heard his breath hitch, his eagerness radiating off his body onto yours. the air became tense as you unzipped your pants and threw them to the corner. you turned around, bills pupils growing until you were completely facing him.

“yeah i know. mine are boring” you laugh nervously, brushing your hair behind your ear and getting under the covers next to him. he didnt respond, he couldnt take his eyes off of you.you began to sit up again “i can go put back on-” “n-no!” he interrupts, his blush taking up his entire face.

“i j-j-just cant b-believe i g-get to see something s-so special” he gulped “s-so b-b-b-beautiful.”

you grabbed him by his shoulders and kissed him, hard. youve been with boys before, i mean youve dated plenty of people. but no one ever called your body special. hot, yeah. nice, yeah. beautiful, sure. but no one ever thought that it was special. 

bill was a kind boy, the most you two have ever done is get each other off with your hands, always clothed. bill never asked to see more, he felt lucky enough just to make you feel good, and that was enough for him. so when you felt the heat of his hands hovering over your body but not touching it, you new you’d have to call the shots tonight.

“bill,” you laid down “just touch me everywhere, please.” he crawled in between your legs, kneeling so that he could lean over your face “m-my pleasure.”

he traced your collar, leaving small, delicate, kisses to make up for what his fingers left behind as they trailed. he kissed the valley between your breasts, licking slow striped down your skin. he picked up your upper back a little and cocked his head to the side, you nodded and he unclipped your bra. he sat their with his mouth open, taking in the view. you blushed and muttered “hey, keep that mouth to good use.” he dipped down and sucked on your nipples, his mouth felt so good against your skin grazed with goosebumps. he was gingerly with his tongue, it was sexy, it was romantic. he kissed down your stomach, his fingers sweeping down your sides. you could see his member pressing against his boxers, the pressure made him wince every once in a while. his fingers met your panties and he hooked them. again, he looked up for permission, you nodded once again. 

he brought your underwear down your legs and off, looking back to see what he had relieved. he licked his lips, getting ready to please you more than he already did. but you felt bad, bill always gave gave and gave. “its ok, im ready right now.” bill looked up at you in shock, he wasnt expecting you’d want to go all the way. “y/n, y-youre sure?” you lean up and kiss his lips, swiping your tongue against his bottom lip “please.”

he pulled down his boxers eagerly, his member sprung out to hit his stomach. he lined up with you, checking once more that it was ok. then he pushed in, bottoming out. he felt bigger than you thought, of course he was well endowed, but he filled you up so well. you mewled, the pain and pleasure making a delicious feeling that made your toes curl.

he waited, but began slowly moving after a bit. he grunted, feeling you wrapped around him was something he’d never be able to get out of his head he thought to himself. he grunted “f-fuck this feels g-good’ he grunted, his breath becoming heavy and full of lust. with every stroke, you felt yourself get more and more lost in the bliss he made you feel. “youre making me feel so good  bill” you moan, the sound of his name coming out of your mouth driving him absolutely crazy. he speeds up, loving the view of your face contorting in pleasure and your body moving with his. 

he couldnt help but feel admiration to you, your hair formed a halo around your head, and the sweat that coated your skin made you glisten in the orange light. “im t-the luckiest in the world” he husks, holding your cheek. 

you felt the knot in your core coming undone, “bill im close” you strain, trying not to be too loud so you dont wake your friends. he moved your leg up to his shoulder, hitting you from a different, deeper angle. his fingers went to your clit, making you bite your had to stop you from screaming. “you l-look so p-pretty y/n, t-taking me s-so well. making y-you feel so good.” “so good bill” you repeat, drunken off his cock and fingers. 

without warning, you came came, your legs spazzing as you moaned “fuck bill” he followed, his hips stuttering, as he cried out into your shoulder. he pulled out and laid next to you, both of you breathing heavily and coming off your highs. 

“y/n” he looked at you “t-that was really j-just wow- thank y-you.” you kissed him, chaste and sweet “that was great yeah?” “it w-was perfect babe. t-thank you f-for t-that. i love you y-y/n.”

“i love you too bill.”

he sat up, his fingers dancing on your inner thigh.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“c-can we p-please do t-that again?”

[cevansbrat0007]

Honesty & A Sweet Moment

I know that I’ve been open about my relationship with my father. It’s not a good one, and I’m old enough to know that right now. I love him. He loves me. But to be totally cliche, love shouldn’t hurt. All of my immediate family, we are smart and successful. The only people in our full family, who, as a unit, have gone to college. I’m talking even the damned dogs had degrees.

I had to parent my siblings. More than normal. I’m the oldest.

But the way he spoke to me, to my mother, to even my siblings, as a woman, I realize it’s not okay. I’ve been slapped, choked, beaten, thrown - yes, thrown. Over the most basic shit. I’m talking about getting out late from school at eighteen, after letting him know because a fire alarm was going off and we couldn’t go back into the building until they could shut it off. He said he understood, because my school was thirty minutes away. My sibs and I went to different high schools. Three different high schools. 

I went to help a teacher when we were finally allowed back inside. My Dad apparently waited outside for an hour and then called me, and yelled, and screamed. He told me that I had better get outside NOW! He had a Blackberry. I had a Motorola. With the antenna.  

I told the school psychologist that “tonight was gonna be rough.”

“I’ve been through a hundred emails!” He’s a CEO. Retired now, but it doesn’t matter.

“Dad, you could’ve called me.” You had a cellphone. 

“I’m the parent, you are the child.” And then he punched me dead in my chest. He’s a big man.

We argued the whole way home. And then I told him that we did not have a good relationship. And he told me, “well that breaks my heart to hear you say that.”

After you just struck me. Nah, bruh. Wasn’t the first time. Wasn’t the last. At the end of the day, my father is a woman beater. I don’t care how successful he his. Love, in any form, shouldn’t look like that. I’ve never raised my hand to him, but if he ever tries it again, I will. You don’t hit me. And you don’t talk to me like I’m stupid. I’ve had the reading level of a freshman in college since I was eight! They tested me!

It’s not a brag. It’s just the truth. It is a gift I was granted. I'm blessed. That's all. A lot of folks on here are amazing. I'm not special. 

This rant is going to develop into something sweet now. I know what my father is, I’ve accepted it. My mother looked away. It’s part of why I write the way I write. I’m going to share my favorite memory of my Dad. Sounds weird, I know…but most folks who have Dads…you have feelings.

I was sixteen. I played both Rec and Club soccer. I was scouted, along with a friend, after we lost to State. That last game had been hard, we’d been so close to the championship. And then your goalie got hurt. I'd even ran at the girl who’d done it. Stopping myself, just short of slapping her.  The rage was real.

I don’t remember what I said to her, but they were some choice words. Nobody hurt one of your teammates.

But it was while you were playing a club game. Now let’s be honest. Girls are mean. So I talked trash. I’m small, everyone is bigger than me. But I let them know what’s up. I was a team enforcer. Like BiB. I once showed up late to a game and my teammates pointed out everyone I needed to hurt. And I was on it. But here’s the thing, I’m nice. As long as we’re not out on the field. 

I always tried to play a clean, good game. But at this point, I’ve been slapped in the back, tripped (aggressively), thrown. I remember a time where the girl grabbed my jersey and said “I got her, now go!” I looked the Referee in his optic stems and yelled “you don’t see this?!”

Here is the happy memory.

Like I said, I was sixteen. We were playing this team that we were absolutely obliturating. It didn’t always happen, but your team had a pretty good record. This other team wasn’t very good. 

The score was 17 to 0. It was so bad that my coaches, male coaches, ordered you all to stop scoring unless you did a trick. Which was a kind thing. 

“The next person who scores needs to do a handstand!” Rick had yelled. “Or I will pull you out!”

In my role as left half-back, and the occasional left-center half-back, it was my job to defend and I did it. I’d been doing it for more than a decade. Get some.

But see, when we were playing that team that lost so bad…

There was a girl who kept kicking me in my calf…where the shin guard doesn’t protect. She yanked my hair, grabbed my jersey.

My team was nice. We loved each other. Which meant our coaches had to teach us how to protect ourselves. Like, literally. 

So, they’d taught us how to elbow. When the Ref wasn’t looking. I always used my ass and my hips when running against someone - everyone got bigger faster than me! So I had to box them out. Just like in basketball

So that girl who kept picking with me, kept hurting me…

I waited until the official wasn’t looking and elbowed her straight in her gut. And then jogged away like “I don’t know what happened to her. She just fell”.

Of course, the Refs called it and then I hear the opposing coach yell. I almost earned a yellow card.

“I saw you, number seventeen. I saw you!” I threw up my hands. I ain’t do nothing.

One of your coaches, Hank, yells back at the other man. “Hey! You do not speak to her like that! She is a child! You want to have words, then there is her father.” He pointed to my Dad. He was standing up out of lawn chair, arms crossed, ready to fight.

I shouldn’t have hit her. But he was ready to throw. And I am conflicted. This was cathartic.

"Shut up when you talk to my daughter!"

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Acting Out

so this was inspired by the stream Tango did on 29/06/21. first of all, go watch it bc it’s one of the best streams i’ve ever seen. extremely entertaining. and this thing does contain spoilers for it.

but essentially my brain went “what if that stream… but angst?” and so this was born :)

…

Tango trudges all the way back to the boatem village, with nothing but unenchanted iron armour and a nearly broken iron sword. The whiplash of emotions he’s experienced tonight has all but drained his energy AND his inventory. Now, he has nothing left to lose.

Tango steps out of the portal and immediately heads for Impulse’s house. He digs through the chest that holds the random pieces of enchanted diamond armour that Impulse looted from the End and puts on a full set, not even bothering to check the enchantments. As he heads outside, he happens to glance over and spot an empty area that he knows used to hold something important. “Oh, wow, look at that. Nothing there.”

“Hi,” says Pearl cautiously, appearing from near her house. “Um… isn’t that Impulse’s armour?”

“Maybe.” Tango’s tone oozes with passive-aggression. “By the way, that’s a great area over there. A real great area. Nothing built there, not even lit up.”

Pearl follows his gaze and glances back at him, realising what he means. “Oh, uh…”

“Tango?” Impulse approaches them, glancing warily between the two. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for my stuff,” Tango replies. “Is that too much to ask? Are you boatem folk in the habit of murdering people and holding their stuff hostage forever?”

“I’ll remind you that not only were you the one to kill first, you were also the one to steal first,” retorts Pearl.

“I just wanted Scar’s hat. What’s the big deal?” Tango shoots Impulse a scowl. “Where did Timmy go?”

“What?”

“Timmy. The pig. Lived in an amethyst hut. Sound familiar?”

“Oh! Uh…” Impulse shoots a worried look at Pearl. “He’s… um… He’s fine. We… We just…”

“Just what?” Tango takes an aggressive step closer to Impulse, before shaking his head and turning away. “Oh nevermind, don’t worry about it. All fine.”

“Tango, you’re scaring me,” Impulse says slowly. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah! Yeah, all good!” Tango gives an exaggerated grin. “I’ve only died, what, five times in the last half hour? Lost all my gear twice, gained and lost an unspeakably important advantage, and now I’m back here and it turns out my best friend may have murdered my pig? That’s nothing. I feel nothing.”

“I think it’s time for you to leave,” says Pearl firmly. “We’ve all gone a bit too far tonight but it’s time for you to go home. I’ll drop your stuff off tomorrow.”

“What, giving up?” Tango says tauntingly. “We didn’t even get to fight properly today, Pearl.”

Pearl’s voice hardens. “That can be arranged.”

“Pearl-,” Impulse starts.

“I’m sorry, Impulse, but he’s barged in here uninvited twice tonight and now he’s waltzing around in YOUR armour. I can’t just let that slide.”

“Ah, I think I’m just gonna go.”

Tango starts to walk off but Pearl steps into his path, drawing the string back on her bow. “Tango, leave Impulse’s armour.”

“Oh, you want me to leave it? I’ll put it back right where it belongs.”

He moves close to the boatem hole and throws a couple of apples into it.

“Stop it! Just give the armour back.”

Tango just grins at her. “But I’m putting it back where it belongs.”

“I will push you in this hole,” Pearl threatens. “Is that what you want?”

“Go ahead,” Tango taunts. “Hit me in. It’s only Impulse’s stuff and a bunch of crappy iron gear. Do it.”

As Pearl hesitates, Tango lunges for the bow in her hand.

Then Impulse appears out of nowhere and barges into Tango, knocking him backwards into the hole.

Tango fell out of the world

He respawns back in the underground part of his base.

The first thought in his mind is I don’t think I’m getting my stuff back.

He gets up out of his bed and starts rifling through his chests. There’s not a lot of iron in there, and there’s even fewer diamonds. Maybe letting himself fall into the void with his backup iron gear on him was not a good idea.

His communicator buzzes.

<impulseSV> Are you at home now, Tango?

Tango rolls his eyes and decides not to reply.

Unfortunately, he’s so engrossed in his stewing emotions that he misses the telltale hissing sound until it’s too late.

Tango was blown up by creeper

When he wakes up, Tango finds himself not on his bed but on the cold grass floor, and he doesn’t have the energy to get up. He lies still, letting his emotions bleed out onto the grass.

That’s his seventh death in less than an hour. Essentially one death per ten minutes. He’s utterly exhausted, mentally and physically.

He doesn’t want to play this game anymore.

<PearlescentMoon> Tango, are you okay? Do you need help?

<impulseSV> Are you okay?

Tango ignores his communicator going off.

<impulseSV> Tango, please answer us. We’re worried about you.

<impulseSV> Okay, coming over.

After a while, Tango heaves himself to a sitting position and checks his communicator. Realising his friend is probably almost to his house, he gets to his feet and heads for the stairs, but it’s too late.

“Tango, are you okay?” comes Impulse’s voice from the doorway.

Tango pauses and gives a sigh. “I’m fine. I didn’t have anything on me to lose.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Impulse moves closer to him and places his hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been so weird tonight and I’m more than a little worried about you.”

Tango shoves Impulse’s hand away. “Leave me alone.”

“No.” Impulse takes hold of Tango’s shoulders and tries to hold him in place. “Tango-!”

Tango fights against his friend, trying to shove him away. “Get off me! I don’t wanna see you!”

“Talk to me, buddy!” Impulse begs. “Please!”

“Leave me alone!”

“But WHY?! Why do you suddenly hate me?!”

“I-!” Tango breaks off as tears threaten his vision. “I can’t be your enemy in another war, Impulse! I-I just can’t!”

Impulse freezes. “What…?”

Tango can’t help a sob. “It just feels like another war is brewing and we’re gonna end up on opposite sides AGAIN and I just can’t do it, Impulse! I can’t fight you again!”

“Tango…”

Impulse falls silent as he realises that this explains his best friend’s actions tonight. When something is seriously bothering Tango, he goes a little stir crazy and starts acting out. A similar thing happened in the early stages of season 6’s prank war and season 7’s turf war. Tango clearly senses that another conflict is about to arise, and it’s making him anxious.

“You don’t have to fight me,” he murmurs, holding his best friend close. “I won’t let it go that far, alright?

Tango buries his face in Impulse’s armour, trying to hold back tears. “I’m sorry… I was so stupid tonight…”

“No, it… it’s okay.”

“It’s… never been this bad before. My acting out. I just let myself go where my weird impulses took me and… I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. I’m so sorry you have to put up with me.”

Impulse rubs his best friend’s back soothingly. “It’s okay. But if it happens again, I need you to tell me, okay? If you ever feel like this again, talk to me. I can help you get through it and we can avoid another situation like earlier. I’m always here for you, man. You know that, right?”

Tango slowly nods. “Th-Thanks.”

“No problem.”

[bertrumstrousers]

bet you thought I forgot but no I’m still here ™️

Bad Blood - Chapter III

“Good morning, sir.”

The half-asleep young man at the counter answered Bertrum with a quiet, “Hi, sir—how can I he—“

“I’m headed to Brooklyn. Would you be so kind as to set me up in a Pullman roommette, departing as soon as possible?”

Lacie piped up, “…me too. I gotta be sure he don’t kill nobody.”

Both the clerk and Bertrum glanced at her with puzzled looks—Bertrum wondering why she wanted to accompany him and the clerk wondering what prompted Lacie’s comment. The young man spoke up once more as he nodded a ‘yes’. “Gladly, folks.”

As the clerk stamped the rough green tickets with the departure time, Bertrum simultaneously leafed through his wallet for payment and told Lacie, “…you don’t need to come, dove. I won’t force you, but I won’t force you to stay here, either.”

“Bertrum, someone’s gotta be around to make sure ya ain’t do nothin’ stupid.” She gave him a firm pat on the back. “And like ya said—you’ll be there for me come Hell or high water. It’s only right that I do the same.”

The train station was nearly empty when the pair arrived for their departure. Bertrum recalled days where passengers packed onto the platform like sardines, waiting their turn to be canned and shipped off. Tonight, however, they only shared the space with a young gentleman impatiently checking his watch and a small family consisting of two parents and their quiet children.

“How long we gonna be up north?” Lacie grumbled groggily as she rested a weary head against Bertrum’s side. Watching her partner’s hurried packing and fussing about with luggage, followed by the surprisingly uneventful cab ride, sapped a great deal of the energy she had. The instant she saw the bed in the sleeper car, she decided, she was going to climb in.

“Not longer than a day.” Bertrum replied as he patted his partner’s shoulder. “Perhaps a full night’s sleep on the train this evening, a day spent at the studio, then a trip back home overnight. I don’t intend to allow Mr. Drew to keep me waiting.” Lacie felt his breathing quicken and his chest tense up under his coat at the mere mention of his old boss’s name.

“Real focused on ol’ Joey, are ya, big guy?” Lacie sighed before sitting up. “The man lives in your head rent-free, I swear.”

Bertrum fought back a rude comment in favor of a distraction that took the form of the approaching train.

“Ya got us a nice room, Bertrum.” Lacie had tossed her bag on the floor of the car beside the folding bed before fussing over the latch that held it in position. “Coulda sworn we’d be sleepin’ on some hard old cot but this’s a proper bed.”

“The porter ought to be glad—if the room wasn’t what I paid for, the whole train would know I’m upset.” Bertrum laughed heartily as he slid the partition door closed.

Lacie chuckled as they folded the bed out. “Ya interested in a nap or are ya gonna go keep yerself entertained some other way?” She had barely waited for the bedposts to settle on the floor before crawling onto the bed. “I was only half-done nappin’.”

“I’ll lie down for a bit myself.” He rested beside her. “I have an odd feeling this trip is the last time in a few days that I’ll be able to get a proper bit of sleep.”

Lacie knew if she pressed him, he’d answer with yet another mention of his disdain for Joey. Instead, she simply rested her head on his shoulder and “hmm”ed softly in agreement.

Lacie was shaken awake an hour and a half later by an impatient Bertrum who barely waited for her to fully awaken before he cheerily urged, “Dove, come along, it’s suppertime.” He tugged lightly on her shirt to make his point before using his reflection in the window to straighten his tie and fasten his waistcoat.

“Give me a minute.” She rolled to her back and stared up at the ceiling. At some point, Bertrum had drawn the curtain over the train’s window, but the low spring sun still snuck through its corners. Slivers of light flickered against the opposite wall as the train blew past treelines and faraway buildings. Lacie’s eyelids grew heavy again.

“Dove.”

Lacie knew better than to ignore that voice. “All right, all right. I get it.” She sighed and rolled out of bed. With a quick brushing of her hair with her fingers and tying of her bandanna on to keep her hair contained, she turned to her partner. “You ready?”

Bertrum offered her an enthusiastic nod, light smile and gentle nudge towards the now-open partition.

The dining car had long since quieted by the time supper had ended. Bertrum had shifted his attention to the passing scenery as he patiently waited for his partner.

“So.” Lacie mumbled through a full mouth. “What’s yer plan for tomorrow.”

Bertrum whipped his head to fix an irritated gaze she didn’t expect upon her. He hissed a little too loudly, “Lacie, don’t speak with your gob full!”

“‘Scuse me?” Lacie growled back at him, though she did swallow her food to prevent any further argument. “Ain’t like you to snap like that.” She gestured at him with her empty fork, knowing well he’d likely have something to say about that too. “There’s somethin’ on your mind.”

Bertrum looked back out the window. Individual trees were no longer visible, only a deep green blur now that the train had at one point picked up speed. The past few hours had been just as much a blur to Bertrum as the passing landscape, and in that murky soup of emotion and rash decision, a deep regret had started to brew. But he couldn’t tell Lacie. He couldn’t tell her his second thoughts in the middle of their overnight trip, hours from home.

He’d have to keep that regret to himself, but the nagging thought kept creeping in. ‘Not admitting to your contrition is what got you so deep in Mr. Drew’s web in the first place. Just tell her.’

Bertrum shifted in his chair uncomfortably as he turned to face his partner again. Her deep brown eyes were narrowed at him, but he was unable to tell whether it was out of concern or anger.

“It’s…” Bertrum stalled by taking a few calming sips of water from the glass he’d left upon the table. “I’m having some regrets.”

Her expression softened as she set her silverware on a mostly-empty plate. “About?”

Bertrum stammered, much unlike him. “…I’m not sure how I feel about confronting Mr. Drew.”

“If I hear you say ‘Mr. Drew’ one more damn time, Bertrum, I guarantees I’m gonna scream!“ Lacie barked, drawing the attention of a woman quietly reading a novel at the other side of the dining car. “Fuckin’ forget about him!“ She slammed her hand on the table. “He’s makin’ ya miserable and I hates to see it!“

After fighting off the choking shock, Bertrum roared back, “That’s why we’re going to begin with, Lacie! I have a score to settle so I may stop being miserable!” The words poured out without a second thought, and Lacie’s visage made it obvious he’d made a mistake. “I just… I don’t know if this is too little too late! What if I’m wasting my time?!”

“Shoulda thought of that sooner.” Lacie’s voice put up a wall, impervious to any of his follow-up grouses. As quietly as she could, the reader with whom they shared the car packed up her things and slipped out the door. Lacie couldn’t blame her as she lightly slammed both hands on the table to push herself from her seat. “Bertrum, if you wanna make a scene, be my guest. I won’t get anywhere with you like this.” She walked around the table, placed her plate on his and gave the man’s cheek, flushed with guilt and embarrassment, a tender kiss. “I ain’t mad at ya, but I’ll leave you be for now.”

With that, Lacie too headed out the door, leaving Bertrum in the empty train car with his racing thoughts.

[bentforkent]

CAMP FIREFLY - chapter one

word count: 4,210

content warnings: brief joking mention of child death

read on ao3 / read on wattpad (coming soon too lazy to upload there rn lol) / previous part / next part

Emily wakes up on the first day of camp feeling like someone is sitting on her chest. It’s the same atmosphere as usual; her head rises from the same old flat pillow to the same old bunk above her. It’s the same atmosphere, sure, but today feels fundamentally different, for it’s the first time she’ll be interacting with real campers. Children. A gaggle of young folk coming to her every day for instruction or nurturing or a hand with the hot-glue stick. She’s been trained for this, of course, but what if she messes up a craft? What if she accidentally says “fuck”?

Wide awake, JJ and Penelope are up and bouncing around the cabin cheerily by the time Emily wiggles her toes and comes to from Dreamland. Emily had only awoken in the first place because the early-rising pair tuned the radio to something upbeat and relatively staticless, cranking up the volume. Emily would’ve considered that very rude had she not already slept in for an extra hour, and had she not been greeted with incredible excitement once her eyes popped open.

“She’s awake!” JJ cheered, Penelope replying with a soft good morning!. Emily took her time pulling her body from the mattress, and now sits still-groggy on the floor by her bunk, trying to do her makeup in a tiny, fogged compact mirror. Penelope is standing behind JJ, braiding bright purple ribbons into her hair.

It’s so early it’s still dark outside, so the three of them are illuminated by a sorta-eerie yellow light, an old light bulb wired smack in the center of the cabin. Penelope’s bags are packed by the door, and when Emily notices them, she feels a pang of sadness upon remembering that Penelope will be moving out to her own cabin with her own group of campers today. Emily will get to stay with JJ, which she thinks is quite nice, because the only other option was a single room all the way over by Rossi’s office all by herself. And she’s finding that she quite likes spending time with JJ and Penelope, so newfound solitude would be a drag.

The bunch have spent their past week in training--learning the lay of the land through semi-degraded VHS tapes of Rossi when he was young and sprightly still, walking through the camp and delivering very specific instructions on how to deal with very specific situations. Penelope was in charge of teaching the fun stuff---chants and traditions and how to make friendship bracelets.

On a particularly sweaty, boring training day, Emily pulled Aaron aside--away from the group who was watching an old-Rossi-video about the lake just behind the camp--and asked him if everything was always like this. Emily wasn’t entirely sure what the “this” was, whether she meant peppy or hot or musty or involved, but Aaron had nodded his head sympathetically and walked Emily back to her seat with a whispered, “You’ll get used to it.” Emily was only a tiny bit aware of Penelope’s eyes fixated on her as she slumped back down in the sticky plastic seat and focused back on Rossi-with-hair explaining the stupid history of the stupid lake.

And used to it she got. Spencer, too.

Turns out he shared the same sentiment as Emily--the, “I’m not entirely sure what’s going on, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here, but I don’t hate it,” sentiment, as they’d so concisely dubbed it, when they sat together in the back of the big room training was taking place in, gossiping and giggling as Rossi, real Rossi --- old Rossi --- stood in front of the small group and explained yet another probably-self-explanatory camp rule.

For as much training as it feels like they participate in --- or sit through, rather --- Spencer still wakes up on the first day of Real Camp so stressed out he checks for gray hairs in the mirror.

It turns out that you can sit through a series of convoluted VHS tapes and Penelope-lessons and still not know a thing about what you’re supposed to be doing. It also turns out that while Camp Firefly is clearly very loved, it’s not the most...efficient summer camp of the area. Or the most safe. Or staffed. Or large. In fact, Spencer marvels at the fact people even send their kids here to stay. It’s not that the camp is poorly run or anything (to imply that would be to question the abilities of him and his friends, Spencer acknowledges), but there’s got to be better options, is the point.

Besides the small handful of counselors Spencer had become close with, the staff only consists of a trio of kitchen staff, one (one!) lifeguard, and a male nurse that Spencer had spoken to once and left the conversation supremely uneasy at the poor guy giving any medical advice. Spencer made a mental note to try his hardest to not have any health issues during his time here.

The kitchen staff are older---like, appear-in-the-old-training-videos older, but they entertain the rest of the newer, younger staff with stories of their youth. The nature of Camp Firefly means that they have stories about Spencer’s friends, too, as the majority of them have been going to the camp every summer since they were children, aging up into their jobs as counselors.

Spencer hears about the time an elementary-aged Derek begged to help serve food to the other campers just because, and about the time Penelope and JJ (when the story is told, they call her Jennifer) passed a petition calling for Rossi’s retirement around the whole camp, just because he cancelled the Talent Show. (The petition turned up only 4 signatures, and the Talent Show is no longer a Camp Firefly tradition).

It’s awe-inducing to Spencer that these people around him have lived whole lives in these dingy cabins. They’ve known each other for ages, built relationships and traditions and memories and stories, all because their parents chose the cheapest sleepaway camp option.

Spencer wonders how different his life would have turned out if he’d been indoctrinated into Summer Camp Culture in his youth, whether he’d even be at Camp Firefly now. Probably not. Definitely not.

Everyone is hanging out around Rossi’s office when the first bus arrives, lounging against the walls and picking at their cuticles. The sun is meandering its way over the horizon finally, but it still feels impossibly early. The group wears bright orange Camp Firefly t-shirts that are meant to be matching, but budget things mean that some of the shirts are more worn---Aaron’s has the sleeves cut off, and the logo is largely rubbed off of JJ’s---and some are brand new.

The crackling of the bus’ tires signals it’s presence before the vehicle peeks over the hill, and when it’s finally in everyone’s line of vision, it’s like a switch flips. They’re hooting and hollering, jumping and dancing in the name of welcoming this bus. Spencer has a wild grin on his face, and when he meets Emily’s eyes, they share a look of fondness and excitement.

After the first bus arrives, the day goes by as quickly as a montage--a cluster of quickly moving vignettes.

Spencer watches as a young girl stares up at Derek, eyes wide and full of wonder. He’s lifting her--and three other girls’--duffle bags with ease, muscles flexing and shiny with sweat. Same, Spencer thinks, realizing his expression is most likely the same as the girl’s. Derek flashes him a quick, hot smile, and Spencer grins in return.

Emily executes her first craft--a cluster of glitter and string and construction paper--flawlessly. Each group introduces themselves to her with a chorus of “hi Emily,” and it warms her heart more than she expected. One girl missing her front tooth hangs back as her group is leaving--Penelope’s group is leaving--just to tell Emily that she likes her “funny makeup.” It’s just eyeliner, really, it’s not that funny, but the sentiment makes Emily smile nonetheless.

Aaron has some trouble with children in his group picking beds, a small verbal scuffle breaking out between two campers vying for the last top bunk. Aaron, ever a mediator, solves it with a stern glance at the pair and a reminder that the other option out of the two is a bed near a window, another highly-sought-after spot. They fight for the window bed next, and Aaron feels a gray hair sprout on the spot.

Once all of Penelope’s campers have unpacked, she takes them on a top-secret trip down to the lake. It’s definitely not top-secret, it’s a staple of every group’s first-day tour, but Penelope has a knack for making her campers feel special, so they creep around the sandy shore on their tiptoes, whispering, while Andrea the Lifeguard looks on.

Despite the speed and relative easiness of the day, everyone finds themselves exhausted, greeting each other with pantomimes of falling asleep and loud sighs. It’s not been a bad day at all, but a long one, and in an attempt to remedy the feeling Derek graciously offers to run to the supermarket and pick up some fun snacks---a counselors only affair.

Spencer volunteers to accompany him on account of him wanting to spend obscene amounts of time with Derek, and also on the account of Rossi offering his expensive car for Derek to drive. Oh, to feel buttery leather seats and hear music and smell anything but dry leaves and B.O.

As soon as their campers are pawned off to other people and sufficiently supervised, Rossi tosses his keys to Derek, who catches them with a jingle.

“Be back soon,” Derek promises, and Spencer punctuates with a wave and a smile.

The fluorescent lights buzz in Spencer’s ear, comforting him. Bzz, bzz. Hope you like the air conditioning, they call out to him. He sure does.

Normally the energy of these 24/7 high-budget chain grocery stores freak Spencer out. It’s always too bright, too loud, too full-of-people. But tonight, there’s not a soul around except him and Derek and the high-school-aged cashier, so Spencer’s actually feeling particularly soothed. The sounds of Derek’s feet dragging on the shiny floor and the squeaky wheel are good sounds, he decides. He could still do without the candy-coated pop music wafting through the speakers.

The shopping cart remains empty for about fifteen minutes before either of them address it. Derek and Spencer spend those 15 minutes wandering aisles, relatively silent save for short, casual remarks like, “Oh, maybe we should get barbecue chips,” or, “JJ loves these Fruit by The Foot.”

Derek pauses from where he’s pushing the cart and turns to Spencer. “We should probably start shopping for real now, huh?”

Honestly, half of Spencer thought they had been shopping for real already. But apparently, if you’re not putting things in the cart, it doesn’t count, he learns. (Derek might be a misguided teacher in that lesson, though.)

“I like to take my time here, because it’s about the only time during camp I get to be alone,” Derek explains, tossing a loaf of bread into the cart absentmindedly. Bread is not on the list.

Spencer tugs at his fraying string bracelet. “Oh. Sorry, then,” he says. Three boxes of graham crackers are set delicately next to the bread.

“For what?”

“Well, you’re not really alone right now,” Spencer observes.

Derek shrugs casually. “Sure, I guess. But you don’t really count, Spence,” he says.

He means it kindly, Spencer knows. But it’s an odd thing to hear--what does that mean? Is he implying Spencer is too boring, or too quiet? Before Spencer can spiral too much, Derek notices his uncomfortable silence and continues, “Hey, no, I mean because I like spending time with you. Like, it’s easy. I don’t have to think about it.”

Spencer has a flash of a vision of Derek dipping him right there in aisle 6 and planting a nice firm kiss onto his lips. In that vision, there’s a fog machine whirring and some Chopin playing. Vision-Spencer nips at vision-Derek’s lower lip.

Instead of all that, present-moment-Spencer nudges Derek’s shoulder with his own, murmuring a happy little “likewise,” and clinging onto the sound of Derek’s chuckle.

Derek kept his hand on the center console the whole drive home, and Spencer desperately wanted to reach out and grab it, to open his palm and lay in it, letting him be engulfed like a weighted blanket. But he kept his hands to himself, squarely on his thighs.

It’s dark when they return, and the bright LED headlights of Rossi’s fancy car seem out of place when they pull back into the camp. Everything seems out of place. Spencer can’t put his finger on it --- the buildings haven’t shifted, and the camp is exactly the same as it was before he left, and yet he’s got this strange premonition that something is just...off.

Spencer’s shoe is untied, and he can feel the laces whipping his ankle as he and Derek trek to Rossi’s office to return his keys to him. He’d reach down and tie them if not for the plastic bags of groceries in his hand---god forbid he let food sit on the dirty, unpaved path, no matter how many layers of plastic packaging protect it. Besides, the air feels thicker than usual, and each time the knit of his shoelace brushes his skin, Spencer is reminded just how uncomfortable everything feels and how desperate he is to be inside.

Everyone is packed into Rossi’s office when the pair gets there, and Spencer’s stomach sinks the tiniest bit.

Penelope and Emily are lounging in those sticky plastic chairs, showered and smelling like a cocktail of cheap, fruity shampoo. Behind them are Aaron and JJ --- JJ’s standing to braid French braids into Penelope’s wet hair, and Aaron just appears to be shaking out pent-up energy. How he isn’t tired, Spencer doesn’t know. Confused, and with hesitant movements, Derek pushes away a stack of bright-white papers on Rossi’s desk to make space for the grocery bags. “What’s everyone doing in here?” he asks. “I thought we were doing Shifts tonight.”

Now that campers have arrived at the camp, it’s become a little more complicated to hang out as a group in the evenings, as they’ve all got an obligation to be in their cabins just in case. Liabilities, and all that.

The first year Aaron was old enough to become a counselor---he was the first of the bunch to age up into the job---he devised an elaborate, elaborate system that allowed the group to socialize without any sleeping campers being left alone.

It’s complete with maps and rules and a very strict set of time shifts, so in addition to Spencer and Emily’s official training, they’d been trained on the side by a very drill-sergeant-y JJ in what Aaron all those years ago so aptly dubbed “Shifts.”

Neither Spencer nor Emily have got it down yet.

“Rossi has an announcement,” Aaron says, pulling his ankle up behind him into a simple hamstring stretch.

“Yeah, I heard he’s gonna promote you to Head of Grocery Shopping, Der,” Penelope teases, peering jovially at Derek through the corner of her eye.

“Haha,” Derek deadpans, and tosses her a pack of fruit snacks that he’d picked out specifically for her. They're the good brand, the blue bag, and she accepts graciously with a kiss blown in his direction. Derek catches it, and presses it to his cheek.

Emily has noticed that Rossi always slinks into his office after his guests have arrived. He’s never there waiting, never anticipating. She has no clue where he’s coming from, although she assumes it’s from his cabin. He always makes an entrance, always sits with a weird old-guy sigh, and then launches into whatever reason he’d called the meeting in the first place.

On cue, Rossi swings the door open and lowers himself into his chair slowly. Emily anticipates it and then there it is---Rossi sighs that damn sigh, and leans forward onto his desk. Although no one else moves, the air shifts towards him as well, and it feels like the seven of them are all standing nose-to-nose.

Penelope slips Rossi a fruit snack discreetly, sliding it across the table to rest by his elbow.

“You know I love you all very much,” Rossi starts, and Emily feels like she might puke. That’s the thing about her Rossi prediction --- the important part, the part where he speaks, is the part she’ll never be able to guess.

So, she feels like she might puke. Not because she feels ill, of course, but in her experience all of that cheesy, “I love you” bullshit always prefaces the worst news, and she has absolutely no clue what is about to come out of Rossi’s mouth. Her mind leaps to the worst possible conclusion---”You’re firing all of us,” she blurts out, relieving the tension just a tad as JJ bursts into snickers behind her.

Another sigh. “No, I’m not firing you.”

“A kid died?”

“Jesus, Emily, would you let me finish?” Rossi says.

Then, after a deep breath, “Developers are coming tomorrow to look at the land. I’m planning on selling Camp as soon as this summer is finished.”

Oh, Emily thinks.

It hits them like a punch to the gut.

There’s hardly room to breathe in the cabin, let alone fall to the floor, but somehow JJ makes it work. The sound of her knees hitting the wooden floor reverberates and warps through the space.

Emily and Spencer exchange a watery glance and mirror each other, biting the inside of their cheeks at the same time. They share a small, spiritless smile at the misfortune.

Penelope is gasping short and shallow breaths as she staves off cries, reaching down and behind her for JJ, who has tucked her head into her knees, pulling off an emotional Child’s Pose on the filthy floor.

Penelope crying is awkward because Emily is sitting right there, upset as well but characteristically less overt about it. Their knees are touching --- Emily’s right to Penelope’s left --- and yet, there’s no tissue for Emily to give Penelope, no way to console her without feeling irreparably out of place. Emily sinks lower into her seat, wishing she had the confidence to place her hand on Penelope’s leg as a tender signal that she’s there and she understands.

Derek is shoved into Spencer as Aaron pushes past him and out of Rossi’s office. It’s not a malicious push, and the sad look Derek gives Spencer is one of pity both for Aaron and for himself, too. An anguished cry comes from outside, from Aaron, and everyone’s eyes widen a little at the sound.

It’s impressive to Emily just how immediately everyone started crying. Before Rossi had even finished his sentence, there were tears welling up in Penelope’s big hazel eyes. Emily almost feels jealous at the brazen displays of emotion. She wants to love something so hard that she could cry at the drop of a hat over it. Nothing has ever touched her as Camp Firefly has touched Penelope, touched JJ, touched Aaron, touched Derek.

“I feel like my world is crashing around me,” Derek admits shyly. “As stupid as that sounds.”

Spencer nods. He knows the feeling. They sit on the porch of their cabin in creaky rocking chairs, a cloud of bug spray encompassing them.

“It’s like, I grew up at this camp. This camp saved me as a kid.” Derek shakes his head.

This camp is saving me now, Spencer thinks wryly before tucking that thought away in a deep corner of his brain. “I’m really sorry, Derek,” he says sincerely.

The door to the cabin creaks open, and a teary-eyed child steps out onto the porch. His feet are light, and he closes the door behind him slowly, clearly not trying to wake any of his fellow campers. “Derek?” he asks quietly. “I can’t sleep...and I kinda miss my mom.”

“C’mere, then,” Derek says tenderly, and gestures for the boy to sit in one of the unoccupied rocking chairs. “Spencer and I were just talking about how much we miss our moms, right Spence?”

Spencer agrees with a nod and a kind smile directed at the boy, then he takes a backseat to the conversation unfolding in front of him. He watches as Derek effortlessly consoles the weeping child before him by sharing his own stories of similar plights in homesickness and offering jokingly to sing the cabin to sleep next time.

After a few minutes Spencer’s mind starts to wander, curious on how the rest of his friends are sleeping tonight after the news of Camp Firefly’s imminent closure. He hopes Emily is chatting with JJ just as he’s chatting with Derek, comforting her and providing the very few words of solace that would help in this situation. He thinks of Penelope and Aaron, all alone, and he half-considers walking over to each of their cabins just to check on them. He doesn’t, though, because it’s technically against the rules, and because Derek is standing, wrapping up his conversation and holding his hand out to help Spencer up out of his seat. The camper, who Spencer has learned is named Alex, scampers inside, tears dried.

Derek holds intense locked eye-contact with Spencer for a second. His eyes are soul-searching, making it clear that he has something he would like to say to Spencer. Maybe he wants to thank Spencer for listening to him talk, or accompanying him to the grocery store. Spencer quickly flips through a plethora of ideas of what Derek could say next like he’s flipping through a book, but he comes up short.

Derek’s mouth is open slightly, like he’d taken in a breath to speak and then lost his train of thought. The sight of him makes Spencer sweat a little, and just for a moment he feels like maybe he should break the short distance between them and kiss him.

Then Derek is tearing his eyes away, dropping Spencer’s hand, murmuring a gentle, “Sleep well, Spencer,” and retreating inside and to his bunk.

“Goodnight,” Spencer replies, but Derek’s already tucked himself in and turned his back to where Spencer stands by the open door.

Emily is always the last one to fall asleep. She knows this based solely on a feeling, an energy that settles over the camp when everyone else’s eyelashes are finally closed and their breathing patterns slowed. It takes a little longer on this night, considering the 40 new bodies in the vicinity--Welcome, Campers!--and the obviously upsetting news that’d been delivered to her and her friends, but finally Emily feels it. She’s the only one awake.

As much as Emily doesn’t like to spend time to herself, as she often finds herself in rabbit holes of self-loathing thoughts, this nightly hour-or-so of atmospheric solitude is comforting. Usually.

Tonight, she’s reeling with visions of land developers coming to the camp in fancy suits, and clipboards, and leather loafers that are far unsuited to trek through Camp Firefly’s unpaved land. And it sucks to imagine.

Emily has only spent a week or so here at the camp, so she doesn't feel like this loss hits her particularly hard. The only reason she’s even at this tiny camp in the first place is the fact that it’s on the exact opposite end of the country from where she’d spent her spring.

When summer ends, and this camp is gone, all she’ll need to do to heal is move to a new city, and make new friends. Then she’ll repeat the process once she gets hurt or bored. The collection of people who have known and loved Emily Prentiss is so impossibly large, and as a result, large is the collection of people who have lost her and haven’t thought about her since.

With regret, Emily recognizes that the group she’s met and befriended this past week will eventually forget about her, remembering her only as the charismatic figure who took over the Craft Cabin the year the camp closed.

And yet, she feels differently than usual. She thinks of pretty Penelope, who is so sweet and sheepish and shy around her, but blooms into wide smiles and rosy cheeks around others. Of JJ, who eagerly taught her how to braid and make friendship bracelets on only their second day of meeting. Derek and Aaron, the rare macho men who haven’t made her want to gouge her eyes out but instead make her laugh constantly. She thinks of Spencer, the quiet intellectual who she feels such a warmth toward, considering him her baby sibling or her protegé.

She’s not entirely sure of what this emotion is, what it means or what it will mean in the future. What she does know, though, is that she’ll take up as much space as possible until her quiet disband from the mismatched group of friends. It’s how she always goes.

It’s then that she decides fuck the developers and fuck Rossi’s plans. If she’s going down and away with this camp, she might as well make it count. As she closes her eyes, finally ready to sleep, a plan begins to formulate in her mind.

- - - - - - -

next part

[artificialqueens]

Had to Give In (Couldn't Give Up) (Gottrosenali) - Writworm42, Fromthenorthernskies

A/N: Here it is, folks. Perhaps THE most iconic Franco-Anglo collab since the hit 2007 movie-I-haven't-seen Bon Cop/Bad Cop. This was incredibly fun to write, and Emerald and I had a blast bringing this fic together. We really hope you guys like it!!

Of course, it wouldn't be what it is at all without our lovely beta Holtzmanns, who single-handedly removed 43728497 commas for us. Your patience is legendary and appreciated, friend <3 <3 <3

Title from I Don't Do Drugs by Doja Cat ft Ariana Grande.

SYNOPSIS: A bad flight and surprise plans convince Denali that his birthday probably isn't going to be very happy; that is, until Mik and Rosé step in to give him the best present he could ask for.

Saying that the plane ride from Chicago to New York had been rough was, in Denali’s opinion, probably one of the biggest understatements someone could make. What was supposed to have been an hour and a half gravol-induced nap had turned into a six-hour nightmare, all thanks to an unexpected rainstorm that had turned up out of nowhere, delayed their flight, cancelled it, delayed the new one, then kept them grounded in the plane itself for an extra hour. Add a thousand gate changes, and by the time the crew had actually let them off at Kennedy, Denali had been regretting not going ham at the duty-free liquor counter back at O’Hare.

But it was all worth it when he walked into the passenger pickup area and saw Mik and Rosé waiting for him with wide smiles, birthday balloons, and lavishly-decorated WELCOME HOME signs.

He broke into the biggest grin of them all, outshining even the ones of his boyfriends, finally free after all the hurdles of the day. His pace picked up, but Denali didn’t even have time to fall into a comfortable fast walk before Mik jumped right into his arms, giggling. Denali wobbled on his feet for a moment, even though he had expected Mik to do exactly that, but he wouldn’t have changed it for anything. He was back with them, after such a long time, and for his birthday, too — nothing could top that, he was certain of it.

“Come on, let him go, he must be tired after all that happened today,” admonished Rosé, and Denali saw Mik pout but finally slide off, still refusing to let go of his hand. He didn’t mind at all, especially when Rosé gathered his long-lost forgotten luggage on one hand, and started to pick up all the things they had brought to welcome him.

He still found himself dragging down Rosé a bit, getting a soft kiss at last after his stupid stressful day. Denali also let a whiny Mik claim one as well, trying his best to keep it pretty tame since they were still in the middle of a big airport with lots of people moving past them. “I hope you two haven’t planned the biggest party of the year for tonight, because I’m exhausted,” started Denali with a chuckle, which quickly died down when he saw the sheepish looks his boyfriends shared. “Okay, what can I expect?”

“Let’s just say we might have gone a bit overboard with inviting people,” admitted Mik, rubbing the base of his neck with his free hand.

“In our defense, we didn’t know you were going to be stuck on a plane for six-ish hours.”

He barely kept in a sigh, even though Rosé was right. As they fell into their Uber, Denali was still stuck in his mind. He had wanted nothing more than to have his boyfriends for himself all evening and night; they could go celebrate his birthday with their friends in the next few days. After all, he was supposed to stay for almost a week, so what was the hurry?

That, and Denali had clearly underestimated how horny he was for them, now that he was stuck in the middle, pressed against them firmly. He knew they didn’t have too long to stay in the car, more or less thirty minutes, but it was plenty enough for him to feel the heat of them nearby — it was plenty enough time for him to go crazy with how Rosé’s hand was lingering on his thigh, and how Mik was all cuddled to him on the side, his warm breath hitting his neck.

It was a fact that didn’t slip past Mik, ever-observant as long as sex was potentially involved.

“Don’t worry, gorge,” the youngest’s whisper was low and teasing in Denali’s ear as he drawled, “Just a few hours, and then we’ll be back home to give you your real present.”

It was less reassuring than Denali was sure Mik meant to be, but at least Rosé hadn’t seemed to have heard them - if he had, Denali knew for a fact that he would have amped up his teasing by now, and Denali wasn’t sure he could survive that without damaging his Uber rating.

Luckily, they stopped briefly at Rosé’s apartment to put away Denali’s suitcase, and Denali couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when he kicked his shoes off, the ache in his feet soothed by the familiar feeling of Rosé’s hardwood floors under them as he headed for the bedroom. Rosé and Mik both followed, and for a moment, Denali almost thought that he’d get a little relief — a cuddle maybe, a quick handjob if he was lucky. After all, they still had about half an hour before they’d have to head out for dinner. And things actually did look like they were coming up for Denali when Rosé told him to lie down with a quick kiss on the lips, both his boyfriends allowing him to rest as they put his clothes away for him.

Unfortunately, that was as far as it went; the minute his body melted into the mattress, Denali’s eyes couldn’t help but fall closed, and he was out like a light.

When he woke up again, Rosé and Mik were laid on either side of him, the former tracing lazy patterns on his arm as the latter spooned him from behind, holding him snugly as he nuzzled into Denali’s neck.

“Did you have a good nap, baby?” Rosé’s voice was soft, his smile gentle, and despite the way Denali was kicking himself for the missed opportunity, he couldn't help but nod as he let out a yawn.

“Do we have any time left before dinner?” The thought came to him as the sleep left his brain, unfogging his mind and making him painfully aware of where he was, what his boyfriends were doing. What else they might be able to do to him, if they had any time left.

But Rosé shook his head sadly, sitting up and gesturing for Mik and Denali to do the same. “We’re already late,” he sighed. “Sorry, baby, but we have to go, the others have been waiting for a while.”

Sure enough, when Denali checked his phone, their group chat was full of messages from Kandy, Jan, Lagoona, Joey, Kahmora, Utica, Olivia, and Symone demanding to know where they were, if they were alive, and if they could go ahead and start getting drunk without them.

Figures.

“Trust me, this hurts us as much as it hurts you, gorge,” Mik teased as he helped Denali up and off the bed. “You wanna change before we go, by the way? I mean, it’s your night, so you can go in stained sweats if you want, but the restaurant isn’t exactly a McDonalds…”

“He’s trying to tell you it’s fancy,” Rosé cut in, tossing Denali a button-up and neat pair of slacks. “Come on, get changed, I’ll call us a cab.”

--

Denali didn’t know what he’d expected, but in retrospect, he really should have guessed it was going to go this way. They had barely arrived, and he had barely taken a seat between his two grinning boyfriends when he felt not one, but two hands brushing against his clothes underneath the table. He was ready to bet all the money in the world that Mik had spilled the beans about how antsy he had been in the car earlier — because that was usually how they worked, even if he was usually the one plotting with either of his lovers instead. This was wildly different, and just thinking about it wasn’t helping him in any way.

Denali turned his head just in time to catch Rosé watching him with amusement, his typical smirk clearly playing on his lips, especially as his hand squeezed his upper thigh more firmly. He barely stopped a squeak from leaving his throat at this, and he knew with certainty that Rosé had caught on — and that usually meant he would be relentless. Denali didn’t know how long they were supposed to stay here, but it would be hellish at best. It couldn’t be any other way, not when he felt Mik’s lean fingers slide right under his button-up.

And he was expected to stay calm and keep on with everyone wishing him happy birthday and giving him gifts? Yeah, Denali wasn’t too convinced about that one. He wasn’t sure he could will his body to stay rooted to his chair, instead of ignoring the very public setting they were in and pouncing on the two of them.

Which is exactly why he escaped towards the bathroom the second he had his chance - their friends had been distracting his boyfriends while they took pity on him for a moment to let him eat without having their hands on him all the way through. It may have been the best of all sufferings, but Denali wasn’t equipped to deal with it right now, not until they took care of the mess they created.

Denali looked at his reddened cheeks in the mirror, knowing it wasn’t only because of the drinks he had downed so far this evening. He could only hope that their friends hadn’t noticed too much of this. He was well aware of the reputation they had amongst their friends circle, one that they could barely keep their hands to themselves whenever they were together, as duos or all three of them.

“Ah, so that’s what you’ve been doing. You okay, baby?”

“I told you, he was gone for way too long,” replied Mik with a wicked glint shining in his ocean eyes, locking the door behind him.

“As if you two didn’t plan to get me here,” Denali snorted in response, but he couldn’t say he was mad, not when his lovers were walking towards him, grabbing his wrists and pulling him in to close the distance between them all.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t love it,” Rosé chuckled, reaching up to cradle Denali’s chin in his hand, swiping his thumb gently over Denali’s bottom lip and smirking when he swallowed hard.

“So what, my big birthday present is a romantic bathroom blowie?” Denali tried to make his voice sound sarcastic, but the waver in it betrayed that he was rapidly falling under his boyfriends’ spell, especially when Mik’s hand snaked around to grab his ass.

“Don’t be ridiculous, gorge,” Mik got up on his toes to bite at Denali’s earlobe, tugging it with his teeth as his grip on the other man’s ass got a little firmer. “We’re much meaner than that, aren’t we, Rosie?”

Rosé simply hummed, dropping his hand from Denali’s face down to his belt, undoing it swiftly and plunging a hand into his pants to palm Denali’s cock through his underwear.

“What’re you--”

“ Shh ,” Rosé cut off Denali’s question with a finger on his lips before his other hand slipped below the band of Denali’s underwear. “Why don’t we give you a little temporary relief, huh?”

“Just enough to get you through dinner,” Mik added, winking, and Denali swallowed hard, but melted into his boyfriends’ touches, unable to resist anymore.

—

As it turned out, Denali and his lovers had two very different definitions of ‘temporary relief.’ They edged him mercilessly for the next few minutes, and he came back to the table harder than he’d been when he left, struggling to act natural as he used Mik and Rosé as shields walking in front of him to hide his erection from his friends. Not that they didn’t all know exactly what had gone down; in fact, with the smug bemusement on their faces as he took his seat again, he wouldn’t be surprised if Rosé or Mik outright bragged about it before coming to torment him.

“Just think about how much better everything’ll be after we get home, baby,” Rosé comforted Denali with a wink and a hand tracing up his thigh as they took their seats again, and as much as Denali wanted to pout at the statement, his heartbeat quickened, and he found himself distracted for the rest of their outing. Luckily, his friends took pity on him after dessert was finally finished, all of them just-so-happening to decide they were ‘too tired’ to go to the club and that they should head home for the night. And not a moment too soon, either; Denali swore that Rosé wasn’t even finished telling the cab driver where to go before Mik was loosening Denali’s belt once again.

“When we get home, it’s gonna be all about you, angel,” maintaining at least a modicum of decency, Rosé slipped his hand into Denali’s pants without undoing them completely, Denali’s dick straining against the fabric of his underwear as Rosé got him worked up with deft, teasing fingers. “Anything you want, we’ll give to you.”

“That’s right, it’s your turn to use us ,” Mik threw Denali’s often-used plea back on him with a nip to his neck, smirking against Denali’s skin when the older man whimpered at the sensation.

“Just a few minutes longer, baby boy,” Rosé promised. “Can you be good for us until then?”

Denali was too far gone to do anything but hiss out a needy yes.

—

He wasn't too sure how he managed to get inside Rosé’s apartment without begging them pitifully to take care of the mess they’d created and entertained all night long.

But still, they at least made it all inside, the door duly closed and locked behind them. It was better than some of the times they’d fallen into a passionate embrace right in the middle of the hallways or in the elevator; Denali was sure they had traumatized at least half their neighbors in their respective cities.

He stopped thinking altogether when Rosé firmly pushed him against the door, and Denali felt the sheer need to wipe off his stupid smirk from his face. His wrists were pushed down, restraining his movements and he whined, trying to fight against the hold to no avail.

"Come on, what happened to giving me what I want?"

Rosé merely chuckled, gently deepening one of the marks they had left earlier in the bathroom. Denali bared his neck more, letting his boyfriend do whatever he wanted.

"Baby, I said we'd give you whatever you want, but I know this is what you want, isn't it? Don't you want to use us and guide us in whatever way you want, but only after you're turned on enough?"

Denali hated how right Rosé was, and clashed their mouths together to avoid answering. He was deeply pleased by the soft groan he got in response, finally freeing his wrists while Rosé was distracted.

But that didn't last — while they had both moved a bit farther away from their front door, still kissing, Denali felt soft hands take hold of his wrists again, a warm body pressing itself on his back. Even through his button-up, Denali could feel the heat of bare skin against his spine, shivering and breaking the kiss to turn his head over his shoulder.

He had been wondering where his other boyfriend had gone, and now he had his answer, as Denali saw the mischievousness play in Mik's darkened ocean eyes. "Whatever you want, baby," he murmured softly, relaxing his hold after a moment to let Denali decide what he wanted to do next.

Denali turned around fully, fascinated by how the youngest had taken his time away to remove most of his clothes already, his hands touching his chest almost reverently. Denali felt Rosé push himself against his back, effectively taking Mik’s previous place, and mouthed at his throat.

He sighed contently, bringing Mik closer to him, but raised an eyebrow when he felt something hard push against his thigh. "Baby, did you get all ready for little old me? Bold of you to assume that's what I'd want," Denali snarked with a breathless laugh, feeling Rosé’s hands unbuttoning his shirt with dexterity.

"It's not bold if I know that's what you want in the end, even if you play hard to get," retorted Mik simply, his hands dropping to help Rosé finish undressing their lover.

Denali has seen Mik wearing a strap-on a countless number of times at this point, witnessed firsthand the change in confidence and demeanor simply having the harness fastened onto the younger man’s hips could bring. How Mik’s jaw became set and the mischievous twinkle always in his eyes turned up just an inkling more, and how the planes of his abdomen always framed whatever cock he was wearing in a way that was so tantalizing, Denali almost couldn’t take it. But it didn’t matter how often Mik’s strap brought Denali to his knees; each time was like the first, and tonight was no exception.

“D’you like my new toy, angel?” Mik cooed, stroking along the shaft of the dick waiting between his legs.

It was one Denali felt like he’d seen before, but didn’t remember Mik having - long and thick, with more ridges and a steeper curve than most of the toys Mik had in his collection. In fact, it wasn’t the kind of strap-on Mik usually went for at all. So then…

The memory clicked in Denali’s mind suddenly, his breath catching in his throat as he thought back to about a month ago, remembering just where he’d seen Mik’s new cock before.

Michelada: bbies SOS im dying for a new dick

Michelada: help me pick?

The texts had been followed by three links, different sex stores that were usually their go-tos for toys. Denali remembered perusing each site leisurely, trying to imagine what Mik would look like with each dildo he saw, until finally reaching one that he just couldn’t move on from, one that had looked absolutely perfect and that he’d just known Mik had to have.

One which, perhaps not so coincidentally, was now right in front of him, close enough to touch. And before he could stop himself, he found himself doing just that, reaching forward to wrap his hand around it, feel over its ridges and imagine what they’ll feel like inside of him--

“No,” Rosé slapped Denali’s hand away, coming up behind him to wrap his arms around his waist as he clicked his tongue in disapproval. “What’s the rule, baby boy?”

“Come on ,” Denali groaned impatiently, unhappy with having been cockblocked for the umpteenth time tonight. “Isn’t this supposed to be my gift? Just let me--”

“Gifts can be taken away, sweetheart,” Rosé reminded Denali with a low growl, his grip around the younger queen’s waist tightening. “When you want something, what do you have to do?”

As if to hammer in his point, Rosé wrapped his other hand to rest on Denali’s throat, and Denali swore he could hear Rosé’s breath hitch when he swallowed hard against the older man’s palm.

“Please, Mik, please can I touch your cock?”

Mik smiled, taking Denali’s hand and bringing it to his lips to plant a chaste kiss on it before looking back up at Denali. “Wouldn’t you rather put something other than your hand on it, doll?”

Denali’s eyes widened at the suggestion, and before Mik or Rosé could say anything else, he found himself dropping to his knees, grabbing the toy to hold it steady as he licked his lips. “Whatever you say, daddy .”

Seeing Mik shiver at the title was worth every bit of teasing, and Denali couldn’t help but feel a flash of amusement as he finally wrapped his tongue around the head of Mik’s strap.

Denali suddenly remembered how much he enjoyed doing this when he felt his boyfriend’s hips twitch lightly underneath his fingertips, which were resting on Mik's lower body. Nothing but pleasure shot through his veins at feeling his knees press harshly to the cold floor; Mik's hand pulling on his dark hair the more he took him in; and seeing Rosé palming himself from the corner of his eyes.

He wanted a lot of things from them for his birthday, but right now he didn't want to be anywhere else. He didn't want to do anything other than please his youngest boyfriend while their lover watched them, absolutely enraptured. Rosé seemed on the edge of acting up, barely holding back, and Denali didn't want him to.

Rosé had been right earlier, not that he would admit it out loud. Denali wanted to get riled up until he couldn't think of anything else, and only then have the permission to use them without breaking any rules.

He wanted Rosé to make him beg and Denali knew exactly how to handle it so it would happen. "Daddy," he whined, "wanna feel you too…"

Rosé hummed, coming closer to them and ruffled Mik's hair softly, pulling him forward to bite down on his bottom lip. Denali revelled in the groan that Rosé got from their lover, tilting his head in curiosity when he saw the oldest whisper something in Mik's ear. Denali wasn't too sure of what the other two had talked about, but the mirth he witnessed shining in both their eyes as they turned to him was enough. He stayed still, knowing better than to disobey them so clearly.

He’d only let himself be pulled up to his feet when Rosé grabbed his hand, winked, and dragged them both towards his bedroom. Denali didn't know what he was in for, but he trusted them. He knew he'd have a good time, as long as they were all together, the three of them.

—

Denali was eager to know just how far he could stretch the lines of their rules for the sake of being a birthday boy, and that's exactly what he tried — he escaped Rosé's firm hold on his waist to push an unsuspecting Mik down the large bed, watching his ocean eyes widen. Denali knew he needed to take advantage of their position while he still had the upper hand, and shrugged off his button-up and pants in the same breath. He wasn’t surprised to have Mik’s full attention, gaze riveted on how Denali’s dick fully strained against his underwear, picture completed with the wet spot already there. It wasn't surprising with how teasing his boyfriends had been all damn evening, edging him without any care.

Denali let one thigh slide over, effectively straddling a dazed Mik and watching him intently. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rosé come closer, a warning playing on his traits, and Denali channeled all his inner strength to turn around. He wiggled his finger in what he hoped was a threatening way.

"Stop," Denali said in a rough, low voice. He was pleased to see Rosé freeze, and continued with a smirk, "Sit. Let me have my fun."

As his boyfriend did what he wished, Denali added on to it, "Y'know what? Why don't you take off your clothes, too, you're a bit overdressed between us three."

Even if Rosé’s hazel eyes narrowed dangerously, he still did what was asked of him, and Denali almost got off on that power alone. "Come here," he mumbled, just as awestruck as Mik had been watching him earlier.

To have Rosé so pliant now clearly meant that he would pay for it eventually, but he didn't mind — he barely got to play with them like this, usually more at ease with being at the entire mercy of their whims.

But it was his birthday, and he could still feel the hot shiver running down his spine when Mik had said Denali could use them. Even if his body wanted to get pushed between them as they ravaged him until the night ended, his mind still wanted to enjoy this rare opportunity.

Obsidian and hazel eyes met like a storm, and eventually, Denali won the stare-down, bringing his free hand to push Rosé down his bed too, the older man going willingly. Their eyes never broke contact, and Denali felt the same need to touch him, make him scream his name endlessly, in whichever way he could.

He had all the power now, both of his lovers down under him, with Denali straddling one and loosely pressing the other one down into the mattress. They were watching him with such love and trust, Denali knew all these weeks away were worth it in the end — just so he could be with them. His heart fluttered when Rosé covered his hand with his own warm one, and when Mik gently stroked along his thick thighs.

Now Denali just needed to get to work, having them both waiting eagerly for his next move.

“I think you should go get the lube," he leaned down until his nose was inches away from Mik’s, the urge to kiss him only spurred on by the way Mik was clearly thinking the same thing. The younger queen was angling his face up, slowly and hesitantly craning to try and close the distance between himself and Denali. But Denali wouldn’t let him, stopping him instead with a hand on his throat, a gentle reminder of the task at hand.

“Earn it,” he challenged, and it was both the right and wrong move.

A fire lit up in Mik’s eyes, and he could feel Rosé shift under his hand. He barely had to process it all--Rosé’s hand on his wrist, Mik’s hands on his shoulders, firm pushes and pulls flipping their positions entirely to pin Denali down again.

“Isn’t he cute, Rosie?” Mik chuckled as he began to work his hands over Denali’s body again, trusting Rosé to pin Denali’s wrists down firmly as he continued to tease him. “He still thinks he’s in charge.”

“Silly thing,” Rosé clicked his tongue, though his smile stayed affectionate as he leaned down to nip at Denali’s jaw. “I said we’d spoil you, baby, but that doesn’t mean you’re the boss here.”

“Please—“

“So bad with manners today,” Rosé cut off Denali's would-be protest with another bite to his jaw, a little harder this time. “Please what, baby boy?”

“Please, daddy, please fuck me, open me up for you, fuck, it’s been so long…”

“Good boy.”

With that, Mik slid away to grab lube and a condom, leaving Rosé alone to attend to Denali.

“What do you need from me?” Rosé landed one more soft bite over Denali’s pulse-point before continuing to travel along the line of his neck, kissing and sucking and teasing with little kitten-licks as Denali squirmed underneath him, savouring each and every sensation.

“Your mouth, daddy, please,” he panted breathlessly as Rosé moved to his collarbone, then down over his chest. “Need you on me.”

“You wanna fuck my face, baby?” Rosé raised his head to look up at Denali, but his teasing didn’t stop; he brought a hand to one of Denali’s nipples, tracing over it with his thumb as Denali nodded resolutely. The tension hardly lasted though; as if right on cue, Mik crawled back onto the bed, eyebrows knit in equal parts curiosity and amusement.

“Who’s fucking whose face now?”

"Well, I think Nali wants me to go down on him and use me, but I'm not sure if he’s earned it," chuckled Rosé, letting one of his hands still roam along Denali's upper chest, teasing the base of his throat. "What do you think, baby?"

"I think… and only because it's his birthday, we can entertain some of his demands. Maybe. If he remembers some manners," smirked Mik, sitting cross-legged and watching them.

"Please, I'll be good, I promise," Denali whined pitifully, trying to get back their attention to him. He watched as his boyfriends traded a gaze, and shivered helplessly underneath it.

"Okay, baby — you'll get my mouth, but if I see you trying to fuck it before you get permission, you can be damn sure it's the only thing you're gonna get tonight, birthday or not," Rosé said in a rough, stern voice. "Do you understand?" he asked, starting his descent, hazel eyes focused on Denali's face.

"Yes, daddy, I do," Denali barely managed to get out, as Rosé had started to trail his lips along his aching dick.

He bit down on his tongue, trying to avoid giving them the satisfaction of seeing how far gone he already was, especially after having them rile him up all evening. He took in a large gulp of air, willing his hips to stay down and not buck wildly, knowing Mik would easily call him out from his position. His ocean eyes were focused on them, trailing down from Denali's face to how Rosé was working him — and he knew his boyfriend. He knew Mik was enjoying the show more than he let on; Denali could see it in the tightening of his jaw and the way his fingers flexed on his own thighs.

Almost against his will, Denali let out a loud moan as he caught Mik's eyes at the same time that Rosé firmly took his cock inside his wet mouth, instantly hollowing his cheeks. He felt his hips twitch, and grasped at the blankets to avoid the temptation of guiding Rosé himself. He needed to be good if he wanted to have his rewards, after all.

"Rosie, fuck , don't stop, please, please," he blurted out, and he caught the mischievousness clear in his lover’s eyes.

Denali was sure Rosé would have been smirking if he could have, without a doubt pleased with himself. Conscient that he had slipped earlier, his self-control waning by the minute, Denali turned to Mik with dazed eyes. "Daddy, please, please , can I just guide him? I'm so close and I've been so good, please!"

He watched as Mik came closer to him, dragging his chin upwards, his fingertips lingering gently along his jaw. His boyfriend seemed deep in thought for a second, but he finally nodded after seeing his clear desperation. "You've been good, baby boy; ask him if he still wants to, but you can."

Denali was about to actually ask Rosé when his boyfriend only took Denali’s hands and brought them to his own head and shoulder, winking. Denali groaned as he felt a stronger suck, and he harshly pulled on Rosé strands of hair, his nails scraping along his scalp. His hips canted up, so close as he was, and when Denali felt Rosé's throat relax around his length, he moaned hoarsely. His head fell back on the pillows, and his back arched, absolutely drained. Denali was left a panting mess as Mik slowly stroked along his forearm. Rosé, on the other hand, was watching him with amusement, making a whole show of wiping off his mouth.

“How do you feel, gorgeous?” Rosé came up beside Denali, kissing him gently on the cheek as the other man tried to catch his breath. It was a good question, given just how much Denali was feeling in that moment--spent, happy, relieved, excited. Calm.

“Like I’m ready for more,” he finally said, unable to help the wry smile that curled at the corners of his mouth, and he could tell by the way both his boyfriends hummed in satisfaction that that was exactly what they were hoping to hear.

“Was hoping you’d say that,” Mik winked as he popped open the bottle of lube, squirting some onto his fingers to coat them. “Now scoot up the bed a little and open your legs.”

“Yes, daddy.”

Denali shivered as slick fingers started to circle his hole, then sighed contentedly when Mik finally eased his fingertips in, leaning down to kiss the discomfort away. He’d missed the warmth of Mik’s tongue against his, along with the soft moans he always let out into his mouth. He felt Rosé’s eyes lingering as he watched them make out, his fingers stroking through Denali’s hair to get him to relax even more.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Mik pushed in a little farther, pumping in and out smoothly while he watched Denali’s face for any signs of discomfort.

But Denali was fine; in fact, he was more than fine. He felt amazing, each rock of Mik’s hand and crook of his fingers sending pleasure that’s almost electric coursing through Denali’s body. But the best part of it all, the sexiest thing Mik was doing?

“You look so pretty like this, baby,” Mik’s eyes shone with love, his voice almost reverent as he scissored his fingers, smiling when Denali let out a mewl. “Taking my fingers so well, so good for me. I love seeing you like this, Nali. Wish I could keep you like this forever.”

God, was that feeling ever mutual.

But Denali was known to be hasty, sometimes even too much for his own good — he wanted more, so much more. He had waited all night for it and yes , coming once already had helped, but not so much when there was something so tantalizing and new he couldn't wait to experience. Denali knew he was supposed to let Mik tease him and play by their rules, but he was struggling to let it play out without doing something. Rosé was far from helping his restraint, too, when he was watching them so intently and letting both his fingertips and his lips roam along their bodies wherever he could reach.

And then Mik crooked his fingers just right, making him whimper loudly, his back arching and hands trying to hold himself steady on his shoulders. "Please," he started, but finished on a breathless moan, as Mik pushed back harsher, and Rosé’s hand brushed against his cock.

"What do you think, Rosie, is he ready for this?"

Denali watched as his two boyfriends eyed each other, seemingly pondering on their next action — if they wanted to take pity on him or make him beg even more. Denali really hoped it would be the first one, because he remembered how Mik’s dick had felt earlier, on his hand and in his mouth. He felt it push against his inner thigh, causing him to tremble lightly. He wanted, no, needed to have him inside, making him see stars as he'd clench around him—

"Look at him, baby. I think he'll snap if we don't give him something soon," smirked Rosé, turning Mik's face to kiss him too, but they didn't have time to deepen it as Denali whined pitifully to get their attention back.

"So needy," cooed Mik, pulling back his fingers finally, kissing the frown off Denali when he suddenly felt empty. "Are you sure you're ready?"

"If you don't fuck me with the dick that I've thought about ever since you fucking bought it in the next thirty seconds, I will never let you touch me again," Denali threatened, hissing in warning when he heard the warm chuckle of Rosé next to him. The older one seemed quite skeptical of what he had said, too. "Don't try me," Denali warned once more, whacking at Rosé's forearm. "Else I'll extend this to you too."

"You're the worst out of us, Nali. Your love language is literally touch. You wouldn't make it," teased Rosé, with that typical smugness.

"Yeah? Wanna see me try it, starting now?!"

However, his threat fell short when he saw Mik hover above him once more, eyes sparkling with mischievousness. "I don't think you wanna start now, this is just starting to get interesting," he advised, his warm hands moving thick thighs farther apart, and Denali lost his breath for a moment. His heart was hammering in his chest with anticipation of Mik's next move.

But it wasn’t Mik who acted first - rather, Rosé reached out to graze his hand down the planes of Denali’s abdomen, fingers scratching down Denali’s stomach and stopping at his pubic bone and lingering there.

“One more time, baby,” he whispered, winking over to Mik before looking down and locking eyes with Denali again. “Be polite, take back your little threat, then we’ll make you feel good.”

There was no way around it; if Denali wanted to be taken care of, he’d have to swallow his pride and do what he was told.

“Touch me. Please ,” he whispered hoarsely, finally giving in to what he’s wanted this entire time. “Touch me. Use me. Ruin me.”

As soon as the words had left his mouth he felt the air in the room change, becoming just a little lighter.

“Let me know if I’m going too fast,” Mik’s voice was gentle, his lips soft and fingers light as he stroked Denali’s cheek, gave him one last kiss. They all knew it was just a gesture--Denali liked it rough, after all, the whole world knew that now--but it was one that meant a lot to Denali just the same.

“Don’t hold back,” he half-ordered, half-pled, and apparently it was all the permission both Mik and Rosé needed.

Denali let out a shaky sigh of relief as Mik finally eased his way in, each ridge and curve of the strap making him shiver as Mik pushed deeper. Meanwhile, Rosé’s hand continued its way down Denali’s body, finally sliding home between his legs to wrap his fingers around Denali’s already-aching cock.

“My, my,” Rosé teased when Denali bucked into the feeling of his lover’s hand on his shaft, only to gasp when Mik began to thrust into him experimentally. “Already excited, are we? Look, Mik, he’s already half-hard again!”

Denali blushed fiercely when Mik looked up and broke into a grin, the sight of his boyfriend’s semi spurring on the rhythm of his thrusts. It was too much, especially when Rosé started to stroke up and down his dick, Mik snapping his hips a little harder to go a little deeper. Denali tried to shy away, tried to hide his face in his hands so that his lovers wouldn't see, but of course neither of them were willing to make it that easy.

“No baby, no being shy,” Mik bit down hard at the juncture of Denali’s neck. “Rosie, make sure he doesn’t get too bashful, yeah?”

It was entirely too easy. Rosé didn’t even break his rhythm stroking Denali’s dick as he grabbed his wrists and brought them up over his head, pinning them down firmly and making it impossible for Denali to wriggle free.

“There we go,” Mik timed his kiss with another thrust and giggled when Denali moaned, trying to squirm for more. “So pretty like this, all blushy and helpless. Doesn’t that feel so much better, angel?”

Denali opened his mouth to answer but Mik picked up speed again, changing his angle slightly, and he found himself lost for words, unable to do anything but mewl as Mik hit up against his spot at a relentless pace.

Stuck between Rosé holding his wrists tightly while he continued stroking him without any trouble even if he squirmed around and Mik still hovering above him and smiling wickedly as he kept his rhythm steady, he wasn't too sure he could last long. Denali could feel the strength of the grasp the youngest had on his hips, knowing that if he kept it up, it would eventually bruise — not that he minded. He enjoyed it. Denali enjoyed it when they left the gentleness behind for a moment, only to rough him up.

He fought vainly against Rosé's hold on his wrist and only got a hum in return, nails digging into his skin. His chest heaved and he arched his back when both his boyfriends decided to go all out at the same time - Rosé twisting his hand just right on his length, lingering on the head to tease him more, and Mik thrusting harshly, his head falling into his neck to moan right against his ear.

"Please," Denali keened, the high-pitched sound resonating against the walls of the otherwise silent apartment.

"Are you gonna come already? Oh baby no, no, that won't do," cooed Rosé, slowing his movements much to the dismay of Denali. He looked desperately at his boyfriend, pleading silently for his cause, but he knew Rosé wouldn't relent, not right now.

"You can hold on a bit longer, no? We just started," Mik smirked, punctuating his statement with a deeper snap of his hips and Denali's head fell back to his pillow. "It will feel better if you let us build it up. Can you do that, baby boy?"

Denali inhaled sharply, trying to recenter himself and not focus entirely on them making him feel so good, on the pleasure building up, but even if he had already come once, the entire night had been enough to rile him up for a good while still.

"Yes, daddy," he answered breathlessly, and he saw the appreciation shine in both his lovers' eyes.

Mik slowed his movements enough for it to feel only teasing inside him, just short of brushing against his spot everytime, and it was driving him absolutely crazy. Added to how he couldn't move his arms, and the lazy strokes of Rosé’s hand against his dick, he just wanted to disobey for once and come now, not later like they wanted.

Denali also knew how it would please them to watch him go wild, trying to keep from misbehaving the best he could. He turned to the only solution he could think of: talking and telling them how he felt, and hopefully it would be enough to distract them from their quest of leading him right into pure madness.

"You feel so good, both of you. Don't want you to ever stop making me feel like this," he started with a hoarse voice, already seeing the effect of it on them. "You’re driving me absolutely insane, please…"

“Tell us just a couple more things,” Mik winked, not breaking his stride, and Denali swallowed hard, waiting to hear whatever idea the youngest had come up with.

“Who’s a pretty boy?”

Fuck. So they were playing this game—not only giving Denali praise but making him praise himself, adding just that touch of humiliation that always put him right on the edge. It was downright cruel, but he was too far gone to fight now. So instead, he played along.

“I am,” he whimpered, earning some faster thrusts and a few flicks of Rosé’s thumb over the head of his cock.

“And who makes the cutest sounds when he’s close?” Rosé followed up, grin positively evil as he quickened his pace a little, making Denali cry out at the overwhelming feeling.

“I do!”

“And who do you belong to, baby, who’re the only ones who can make you feel like this?” Mik was returning to his previous pace now, a fact that was so relieving, Denali almost forgot to answer.

“You, daddy, you and Rosé, only you two make me feel this good, you make me crazy, God, please let me come please—“

“Tell us what you are, sweetheart,” Mik leaned down to whisper in Denali’s ear, his voice taking on a soothing tone when Denali sobbed in response.

“I’m—I—“

Another flick of Rosé’s wrist, a change in Mik’s angle, and Denali couldn’t hold back any longer.

“I’m a good boy, your good boy, please daddy, I need to come so bad, please— oh, oh, fuck, fuck—“

Rosé and Mik must have known he was at his limit, because they didn't ask anymore of him. They just kissed him and praised him and finally, finally told him he could come. Rosé’s hand was painted white with come as Mik continued to fuck Denali through his orgasm, milking out every bit of pleasure they could possibly give him. And by the time he could finally see straight again he didn’t care how tired he was, or how sore, or how much his lovers had tormented him. He was happy and sated, high on pleasure, and he wouldn’t take the feeling back for the world.

He was ready to call it a night, especially after the hectic start of his day, but somehow Denali knew his boyfriends wouldn't stay restless for that long. He just wasn't too sure if he could handle having them all over him for the third time in such a short period, no matter how much he wanted to please them. He felt pleasantly sore all over, and he knew he'd have trouble moving in the next few minutes.

Denali was about to tell Mik and Rosé just that when he heard the rustling of the sheets on the bed, followed quickly by heavy breathing and soft groans. He opened blurry eyes, turning his head towards the side of the mattress.

He was only half surprised to see Rosé hovering above Mik, with the oldest keeping his wrists firmly pinned above his head. Unlike him before, Mik wasn't even trying to squirm underneath their boyfriend, merely trying to kiss him instead, whining when Rosé moved away slightly.

Denali's eyes widened when he caught the free hand of Rosé moving down to Mik's hips, already untying the strap with practiced ease and smirking while doing so. Denali already knew what would happen — he had witnessed it happen so often before with different variations maybe, but it still stayed the same: his boyfriends taking care of each other after he was left fully sated.

He loved to watch them play together and seeing it unfold in front of his curious eyes. They traded roles so easily according to their moods, often without even a need to actually ask out loud. Denali was always eager to know what would happen and this time wasn't an exception.

He had just started to come down to earth, slowly moving himself to sit against the headboard, now with an even better view of his lovers kissing fervently. Rosé was already making a mess out of Mik, and Denali could hear him moan, even if it was slightly muffled.

Denali's dark eyes followed the way Rosé’s arm flexed, relentless with his pacing; he watched as the oldest broke the kiss to tease Mik’s burning skin. When Rosé firmly bit down on his pulse point, Denali could hear Mik pant, finally putting some struggle to the grasp Rosé had on his wrists.

Rosé tutted gently at this, slowing his movements enough to have Mik complain, but Denali figured Rosé was already riled up enough by having taken care of him with Mik earlier, and Rosé promptly picked up back his former speed. From the wicked glint in his eyes, Denali knew Rosé wouldn't stop there and make Mik come just like this, and he sat up straighter against the headboard more than ready to watch them. He wasn't going to miss a single second of it if he had his way.

Denali could feel his body reacting to all he was seeing and hearing, and he hesitantly trailed a hand down his chest, not quite ready to have direct stimulation but also wanting to bank on the warmth he still felt lingering in his lower stomach. And it only increased when Rosé turned a hungry look towards him, licking his lips as he cocked his head towards the youngest.

“Go wild.”

Denali didn’t need to be told twice. They worked in a smooth motion, Denali taking Rosé’s place without so much as a moment gone to waste, kneeling over Mik and boxing him in.

“Can I go down on you?” Denali took his time kissing over Mik’s body, voice full of hope as he whispered the question against his skin. Mik swallowed hard in response, and Denali could practically hear the younger man’s throat as he nodded.

“Need to be opened up, but want your tongue first…”

“Why not both?” Denali winked, and Mik rolled his eyes, but laughed nonetheless.

“Just fuck me already,” he shook his head, still laughing a little.

Denali didn’t have it in him to deny his baby any longer. He began kissing his way down Mik’s body, taking time to explore the places he knew made Mik go wild. And of course it worked—by the time Denali finally made his way to the apex of Mik’s thighs he was nothing but a puddle beneath him, squirming and sighing and very clearly putting effort into keeping his arms on the bed, not grabbing at Denali and pulling his hair like Denali knew he wanted.

“Spread your legs a little wider, angel.”

Denali looked up with wide eyes to see Rosé hovering beside them, hand stroking along his cock as he watched the sight in front of him. With a wink, he tossed Denali their bottle of lube before sitting back on his heels, still stroking himself and waiting.

“I’m not going to deprive you,” Rosé shrugged. “Play with him as much as you’d like, darling. He’ll let us know when he’s ready for me.”

“Please,” Mik added breathlessly, and Denali decided right then and there that he couldn’t wait anymore. He coated his fingers in lube and turned his attention back to Mik, finally setting to work.

Up until then, Denali hadn’t realized just how much he’d taken eating Mik out for granted. How much he’d missed the taste of his boyfriend on his tongue, missed feeling the twitch of his thighs and the buck of his hips under his ministrations. How he’d missed the way Mik’s little sighs and moans clued Denali into exactly what he was feeling as he circled his entrance with wet fingers, easing inside of him slowly and pulling out whimpers that were music to Denali’s ears. He could do this forever, he really could--but he knew that right now, he needed to control himself. Rosé was watching and waiting for Denali’s permission to take over, and Denali wanted nothing more than to see the older man make their boyfriend come undone.

Then again, taking his time meant torture for both of the other men, and after all the shit they’d pulled this evening, didn’t they deserve it?

So he kept going relentlessly, pulling out every move he knew and even trying out some new stuff, until both his boyfriends looked like they were right on the edge of losing control.

Perfect. He had them right where he wanted them — and while he kind of wanted to continue riling them up just for the sheer pettiness of it. For how they had acted all day, Denali also wanted to see them have their moment.

He pulled himself away abruptly, watching with a smirk as his boyfriend helplessly tried to bring him back but to no avail. Denali had already moved back to his original place, easily trading his position with an overly eager Rosé, who had never seemed more ready before. He let one of his hands trail softly along the length of the older one’s arm, their eyes meeting for a few seconds. They shared everything in that simple gaze to be enough that words were unnecessary, but Denali still needed to push through in the near silence of the room, apart from heavy breathing and soft rustling of the sheets. “Take care of him.”

Denali broke into a small grin when he heard the chuckle his boyfriend let out. “You know I always do, but is he really ready?”

“Yes I am, now come on,” Mik loudly whined, grabbing Rosé’s body closer to his own. “And don’t say I’m impatient, just do something!”

Denali watched amusement unfold on Rosé’s expression but he still kept quiet, probably only because he was just as close to losing all his self-control. Denali was well aware that otherwise, Rosé would have just held back to see how much he could get away with before actually fucking him. While neither of them were the best at denying what Mik wanted, both in bed or not, Rosé usually had a better handle on it — especially if the youngest was acting up a bit.

Denali was startled out of his thoughts when he felt a hand squeeze his leg, and he caught smoldering blue eyes watching him. He held his gaze, not wavering when blunt nails dug almost painfully into his skin. Denali only dared to move his eyes away when Mik himself broke their stare down, taking the whole scene in for the first time.

It didn’t matter that he had seen similar scenes so many times before. Something was always fascinating in witnessing his two lovers move so fluidly together, both of them grunting and moaning and whispering sweet nothings at each other between kisses — only for them to enjoy; only for him to see it. Denali watched with rapt attention as one of Rosé’s hands clutched the wrinkled up sheets near Mik’s face, while the other held on to one of his thighs. He was pretty certain that it would come to bruise on his pale skin, but it wasn’t something that bothered any of them.

He watched as one of Mik’s legs hooked around Rosé’s hip, wordlessly encouraging him to continue his actions, as if he would even dare to stop like that. They both were way past the stage of teasing, having taken it out mostly on him before. Denali could see it in how Rosé’s thrusts were already wild and uncontrolled, paces away from the way Mik had controlled his own when Denali had been in his place. He could see it in the thin layer of sweat shining on both their bodies, with how they were both shaking. He could see it in how Mik’s back was arching off the bed, his nails dragging along his leg, only making him more involved in what was happening in front of him — not that Denali wasn’t already with how he was biting down on his already bruised bottom lip, dark eyes focused on them and a hand lazily touching himself.

He had been more or less trying to keep silent and not distract them from their time together, but it was difficult with the kind of show they were putting on for him. Every moan dragged out longer and sounded louder. They purposely exaggerated the deep rocking of their hips so he could clearly see what was happening. It was almost a blessing that Denali had already come twice in a row because otherwise, it would have been a problem. He was more than happy to just give himself a bit of pleasure without any pressure of coming again.

Denali barely caught the rough, low voice of Rosé saying he was close, and his eyes fell to a bright eyed and deeply flustered Mik, knowing without him saying anything that it wouldn’t take that long for him to come either. Not that he needed the indication, with how the indents of his boyfriend’s nails were littered around his leg. Denali was sure he had avoided a few scratches on Rosé’s shoulders and back because of it.

And then he got an idea, a wicked one, and smirked.

“You think you two can come just like this? No, I’m not done watching you yet — it’s still my birthday gift, yeah?”

Denali had to give it to Rosé, he did slow down once his brain caught his words, even if he groaned in displeasure at his intervention. Mik, on the other hand…

“I hate you,” the youngest grumbled, still letting his leg fall off for a second, his head falling back to the pillow now that Rosé was only slowly and shallowly pushing into him. Denali laughed at his misery and shrugged.

“What happened to the ‘we just started’ from earlier? Doesn't that apply to you two as well?”

“Come on, you’re evil,” retorted Rosé, huffing through both annoyance and the strength he needed to keep from bucking wildly as he had been doing before.

“Keep it up and you’re not coming,” he warned in a sickly sweet tone.

“You don’t make the rules —”

“It’s my birthday, I kinda do,” Denali argued, “you two had fun torturing me, so let me do it, too. I’m not that evil, I’m gonna let you come… eventually.”

While neither Mik nor Rosé looked particularly happy about the situation, they didn’t fight Denali any further. He suspected that they couldn’t, not while distracted like this. Their self-inflicted teasing was getting to them both, and Denali felt a spark of smug satisfaction as he watched both of them get closer and closer to cracking. Mik’s cheeks had practically set ablaze with effort and his hips twitched just the slightest bit, clearly unable to lie still completely. That was okay; Denali would give him that at least. After all, the clear effort the younger man was making was surprisingly cute. The fact that he wasn’t quite able to be good, and was unable to control himself completely was even better. Couple that with Rosé’s panting breaths, little whines of need just barely audible underneath that, and it was almost enough to get Denali going again too.

“You both look so precious like this,” he teased a little further as he let his hand wander down slowly between his own legs, beginning to play with himself lazily. “All needy and desperate. Bet it doesn’t feel so good when you’re on the receiving end of it, huh?”

“You like it and you know it,” Rosé retorted, but Mik’s whimper at the taunt betrayed that maybe, just maybe, Denali’s boyfriends were enjoying it just as much.

“Oh, I’m having fun, that’s for sure,” he grinned. “Tell you what, Mik, baby, you’re getting pretty vocal--tell me how you feel, and maybe I’ll let Rosé go a little faster, yeah? It’s only fair, after all.”

He knew he was going to get it the next time they did this, that neither Rosé nor Mik would forget the kind of shit he’d pulled tonight. But he could worry about that tomorrow. Right now, he was set on just enjoying the way Mik was struggling to find his words.

“What, you don’t want more?” he prodded again, grin widening. “Aw, how disappointing. I guess you really can come this way. Okay, Rosie, looks like you’re stuck like this--”

“No, please, fuck , feels so good, but I need more, please, Nali, let me have more?”

Denali couldn’t tell what was hotter--the desperation in Mik’s voice, or the way Rosé looked caught between betrayal and a plea of his own as he looked from Mik back up to Denali, checking for his next move.

“Good boy,” Denali hummed. “Alright, you can fuck for real now. But ,” he added, chest swelling with giddy excitement as he warned, “You both still need to ask to come, and if you don’t come together, then whichever of you would wind up coming last won’t be coming tonight.”

It was a false threat, in reality; Denali planned on pretending to take mercy, to enjoy hearing one of them grovel before he revealed the ruse, if it came to that. But he wasn’t going to let them know that. And in any case, the idea of them coming together?

He couldn’t help but stroke himself a little faster at the thought.

Denali didn't have to wait long to see them fall into action, Rosé instantly picked up back the speed he had from before, while Mik pulled at his hair, getting him closer, almost sobbing in relief. Rosé hummed appreciatively, leaning down even more to capture Mik's little whimpers into his mouth.

Denali let his eyes focus on his two lovers, knowing how close they still were, even when he had interrupted them for a moment. His hand brushed against the head of his cock as he picked up speed, and Denali moaned hoarsely, getting a look from Rosé, and a whimper of his name by Mik.

Denali didn't know if he was going to come once more just by watching them, but he didn't mind. It was enjoyable, and there was almost nothing more satisfying than to witness his two lovers fall off the edge.

He almost lost it himself when Rosé brought a hand down on their boyfriend’s hip, squeezing his bruised inner thigh and making him moan — and Denali might not have had the best point of view with how Mik's raised thigh was hiding it, but he knew what Rosé was doing, and it was more than enough. Especially when the sheer idea of it was mixed up with the high-pitched sounds Mik was letting out now. Denali felt a shiver running down his spine, his chest heaving. Hearing them taking pleasure was always making him crazy, and tonight was no exception. His hips canted up into his tight fist, and he fought to keep his eyes open to watch the scene in front of him unfold until the end.

Denali heard Mik’s scream first, but in his defense, Rosé's moan resonated only a few seconds after, and he stopped stroking himself instantly to the sound, wanting to take it all in without distraction. Vaguely, in the back of his mind, a voice told him they’d disobeyed, hadn’t asked like he’d told them to, but right now, he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was too satisfying to see them both in such pleasure, enjoying each other, enjoying him watching. He didn’t want it any other way.

Both Mik and Rosé were panting loudly, and Mik had his eyes firmly shut, an arm now flung across his eyes as he tried catching his breath under the strength of the orgasm. Rosé on the other hand had more or less no more strength left in his body, falling halfway on top of their boyfriend.

Denali got closer to them, gently stroking along Rosé's spine, the older one arching his back to get more of his touch. He leaned down to push back a few strands of dark hair from Mik's forehead, his boyfriend mumbling something he couldn't pick up. He dropped his body on the bed, staying slightly up on his elbow and waiting for them to come back down fully.

“Hi,” he turned a soft smile towards Mik, who was the first to look up again, the fuzzy, sated bliss in his eyes making Denali’s heart warm.

“ Fuck, that was good, ”  Mik let out a breathy laugh in response, wiping the sweat from his brow as a tired smile broke onto his face.

“You definitely put me through the works, I’ll say that,” Denali teased, stooping down to give the younger man a kiss.

“I think you still aren’t done, though.”

Denali and Mik both turn to Rosé, who in the time since Denali had shifted his focus away had pushed himself up onto his elbow, looking them both up and down with a bemused twinkle in his eye. And for a second, Denali isn’t really sure what he means, until he looks down and--

Oh .

“Huh,” Mik looks down at Denali’s semi, eyes wide with half-shock, half-satisfaction at what he and Rosé had done to their boyfriend. “I gotta say, I knew you were pent up, but three times? I’m impressed.”

Denali blushed fiercely, the heat in his face only intensifying when Mik and Rosé both tittered at his reaction.

“Don’t be embarrassed, baby,” Rosé teased, scooting closer and running a hand up Denali’s thigh. “It’s okay. Here, I know you’re tired--let us take care of you one last time, then we can relax, yeah? How does that sound?”

Denali weighed his options for a moment, but shook his head, unable to stifle a yawn as he did. The truth of the matter was, he already knew he’d be sore tomorrow, especially after everything he’d been through today. He didn’t need to add a broken dick on top of that, since he knew how relentless his boyfriends could be. He’d need to be in tip-top shape for the next week, otherwise he’d never survive.

Besides, there was a part of him that kind of felt like he didn’t actually need anything more, no matter how much his boner tried to say to the contrary. He’d been lavished with attention all evening, every need met for him, and even watching his boyfriends just now--sure, it turned him on, but his satisfaction with the display had gone beyond that. Because it wasn’t just sexy seeing Rosé and Mik fuck, it was also just plain nice for lack of a better word. Hearing Mik’s moans, seeing Rosé’s hips buck in such a wild, yet measured way--it filled Denali with a sense of contentment that was second to none. After all, there was nothing better than seeing Mik and Rosé happy, engaged with and enjoying each other as they played together. In Denali’s mind, that was the real treat of seeing them fuck, so really, did he even need anything else?

“I’m good,” he shrugged, moving up the bed to lie back against the pillow and making grabby-hands at both his boyfriends. “Now c’mere and cuddle me, will you?”

Rosé and Mik both obliged happily without another word.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Keep An Eye Out...

Howdy, folks. In addition to a couple of surprises in the next couple of weeks, keep an eye out for my next Supernatural story!

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity, cursing.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

Sneak Peek: a small excerpt from chapter 1

“Okay, Andy, you’ve got this,” she mutters. She stands outside the bunker entrance, fingers frozen on the handle. She can feel her heart beating in her throat as she clutches the latch but still can’t bring herself to open the damned door.

“This isn't so hard,” she sighs. “I’ve opened thousands of doors. I’ve opened this exact one before. A lot. I can open it again.”

It’s not that simple, her traitorous brain whispers. She knows it isn’t the door that makes her hesitate; it’s dealing with who’s behind it that twists her heart and makes her fingers turn stupid. Considering the stunt she’s attempting to pull off, it’s not just her fingers that feel stupid right now. And knowing she’s about to face down Dean and all his impending wrath and try to actually lie to him?

Suicidal levels of idiocy.

“Stick to your story. Say as little as possible, avoid all mention of demons. You found a lead, the source was jumpy, and you couldn’t bring anyone else. Lead never showed, you waited, but nothing came from it. Don't get fancy; he'll see right through you.”

She’s been coaching herself this way for an entire day. The meet-up was only a couple of hours away, but she left early and came back a day late, knowing every minute she spends with Dean makes her five times more likely to reveal every recess of her soul. She’s never wanted to spill every secret she knows with someone like she does with this beautiful asshole.

But she came back when she probably shouldn’t have, even though it means attempting the impossible of keeping this secret from the person she wants to lie to the least, and she’s not going to waste the precious little time she has left by standing outside the door all night. She had to give herself - give them both - just one more night together. In the end, she knows she could never make any other choice.

Sneaking into the Winchesters’ bunker is universally known as the last act of a desperate idiot, and Andy certainly feels up to the part tonight.

[willowistic22]

New jomike hc au!post college

I came up with this au in my head for awhile now some hc’s regarding this new au on a whim bcs i wanted to tell my friends abt it on a discord server. I thought it’s time it sees the light of day bcs i simply cannot keep it in me anymore. Also this is kind of inspired by the song Dorothea - Taylor Swift. 

Everyone is graduating so que the sappy goodbyes as they’re all gonna be scattered not just all around the us but also all around the world

The couples made a truce whether to do long distance or they share the same dreams so they do it together

But mike and jojo didn’t make things work in the end so they broke up before graduation but still went to prom together

y’know those kinds of high school hearthache

Bcs Mike stayed in new york but jojo flew away (like england or sumn idk) 

To some fancy elite school bcs he’s smart yknow

He wanted to from the start but he’s always been a bit torned bcs he knew from the start of the relationship mike was the one (call it stupid young love or whatever you want, i call it destiny:))

And mike never wanted to hold him down so he was the one that proposed the idea to him

For the most part it worked out

Jojo flew away to chase his dreams

Mike stayed and did the same thing

Both of them only kinda sorta moved on. Met new people but never fully stopped thinking abt the other. Wishing the other was by their side right now

And so they’ve gotten their degrees and gotten their dream jobs

Mike is a coder working in a video game company while jojo is in social media marketing after finishing business school (or whatever major required for that job field idk)

And they kinda hv their life together. Jojo living on his own in a studio apartment with a cat called Dorothea (see what i did there:)) money doesn’t concern him all that much bcs the job pays nicely and he’s good at handling his finances 

Mike lives alongside with his brother ike in a nice apartment too. He manages to get a position that allows him to work flexibly at home yknow. He also has a new kitten he saved from the streets named Honey (bcs his fur is orange like honey) and since his older cat had died of old age

But mike lives with ike who also lives with hotshot. So he’s like always the third wheel. Even worse when ike and hotshot are hving the occasional double date with race and spot. Mike feels even more worse at those time

Decides to hide away in his room or go out with the excuse being work

And its even worse remembering he used to go on double dates with ike and hotshot when him and jojo were still a thing

So ike is like ‘yknow what? I hv enough of this shit’ and hv one good brother to brother talk

‘Dude. It’s been years already. How are you not over him?’

‘Bcs he’s jojo...’

‘Ok? So why don’t you call him?’

It’s not like mike has never thought of calling him. Very much possible. They still follow each other’s social media’s so if his old number had changed he cld always just ask from a simple dm since mike knows jojo is still active in his social media accs

But mike is like ‘i can’t. He cld be taken for all i know. Even if he weren’t, he seems to be doing fine on his own’

‘You can’t really get to know a person through instagram posts. Remember how you tried that the first time you wanted to ask him out? You thought he didn’t like guys and yet still went on a date with you anyways’

That was a real slap in the face type of sentence yknow so mike is working up a lot of courage and planned a lot on what he’s gonna do

He first wanted to message jojo. Seeing if it’s still okay to call and all. But he cldn’t figure out what to say so he procrastinated on that part

Ike got sick of it so he took the phone from mike and messaged ‘can we call? I miss you’

Mike was hovering in between i will murder you or thank you @ ike

Either way jojo texts back with his new number. It’s gonna add up on his usual phone bill but he thinks it’s worth it.

Ok so they talked for like soooo long

7?8?hours?

Basically the whole night for mike

It felt like high school all over again

They were just catching up with each other and talking abt absolute bullshit at the same time

Till they got to the point where they mentioned how they’re both single and the air kinda shifts

Deep down mike and jojo knows what this means

As far as jojo is concerned, mike was the one that messaged him that he misses him

It’s easy now for mike to word out come home without indirectly saying it out loud in case that’s not what jojo wants

Bcs after that catching up, he knows that as much as it’s a dream for jojo to work at a big well known fashion brand (he’s pretty fashionable lmao) and get free products that are usually hella expensive from the brand, he hates everyone he works with. Real snobs and ruthless when it comes to getting a higher position

The other things abt his new life is pretty interesting and he loves it. But he admits there’s always been something missing and mike so badly wants to be that something missing in jojo’s new life

So it comes out straight forward. Not like how mike had planned, but it works in the end. ‘Come home’

And jojo does exactly that. He agrees to come home for the weekend. He books a ticket to new york then back with only a carry on duffle bag filled with a few assortments of clothing and booked it out after telling dorothea he won’t be long.

He rushes to the airport bcs he kinda booked the flight that leaves for new york as soon as possible. Perhaps deep down jojo really does know what he’s been missing in his life?

He lands in new york on a friday night new york time

Mike tells him not to worry abt what he’s wearing bcs he just wants to meet jojo at a central park bench that has long became an important spot for them

Jojo insisted on meeting as soon as he lands which is tonight. So the whole time he’s in the cab, he’s like soooo shaky and nervous it kinda drove the cab driver anxious as well. Bcs like jojo’s not talking and didn’t like say anything abt why he’s going to central park this late at night and not to some fancy hotel as most travelers wld do when they first arrive at new york

The moment the cab stops, jojo basically threw him a wad of cash. Probably too much than the actual price of the ride but he just called out from the back of his shoulder saying it’s a huge tip. Secretly, he’s thanking the cab driver for not asking him why he’s in new york and why central park at this time. It’d most likely make him even more nervous

He’s running on the path. He doesn’t reach full speed bcs his duffle bag is weighing him down. He doesn’t even know why he’s going so fast. It’s not like mike has anything else planned

Picture jojo frantically looking around the area like he’s a lost little boy in the dark. Barely seeing anyone else in ten vicinity, so any figure out at this ungodly time rn cld only mean is mike.

But he’s growing worried bcs it doesn’t seem like he’s around

Until ofc ‘jojo!’

Jojo whips his head around and sees Mike walking up to the bench from a different direction

They didn’t really do anythign at the start. They just stared at each other while standing in the dark approximately 10 feet apart. Jojo waits for a sign from mike to do anything else, though mike was doing the same thing for jojo

Until mike decides to break the 1 minute long silence ‘jojo-‘

But he didn’t continue bcs jojo was already running up to him the moment his mouth moves and tackles him into the tightest hug ever

His duffle bag was dropped halfway from the run so there was no holding back. The hug very much pushed mike’s soul out of his figure as much as it did to his body

Thankfully, mike hugged back just as tight. If not, it was a sign for jojo that it wasn’t okay to go in for a hug just yet and he wld pull back really quick

In time, jojo did end up pulling back to look at mike’s face up close and whisper ‘i still love you’

Which is really out of nature for jojo bcs he’s never really known to be the risk taker between the two

And mike was so happy at that moment that he just pulls jojo in for a kiss.

And that folks, is how they got back together:)

So everyone has agreed that airplane food sucks ass (for the most part at least. 

Jojo was forced to eat it on his plane back to new york but he didn’t like finish it

Probably bcs he was so nervous and it also didn’t look so appetizing

So after they’ve said their heartfelt ‘i still love you’s and etc mike took him back to his apartment after finding out he doesn’t hv a place to stay. He’d stay at his parents place but the de la guerra’s hv long moved out of new york. You can say the similarities between jojo and his parents are that they like to travel. They sold their house and ended up backpacking across the world to look for a place to retire inevitably. Last time he checked up on his mom, the old couple is driving to Netherlands.

So mike took him home and cooked him dinner. They hv the apartment all to themselves since hotshot and ike are out

Unknowingly, jojo had sat on honey’s favorite spot on the couch and earned a disapproving meow from the little cat

Not until mike had properly introduced them that honey started to be nicer to jojo. And so they eat dinne ron the couch and talked.

Mike admitted calling him has been on his mind for quite some time but was too scared to act up on it. And jojo said what he did just now was the most compulsive and adrenaline rush thing he’s ever done. The roles had reversed for the moment

But now they’re back where they’ve always belong. In each other’s grasp while looking out the balcony in the tiny living room to watch the sunrise and then getting surprised seeing ike and hotshot pile in the apartment

And so now they’re back. They make the most of the weekend to talk abt what they really want

Jojo wants to quit his old job. The firm is full of snobby and arrogant ppl

And it has him working almost 24/7. He doesn’t want that

Mike on the other hand wants to hv a period of his life where he’s traveling full time

So they took inspiration from ike and hotshot’s current plan : get a mini bus to convert it into a home

In conclusion jojo quits his job, moves back to new york along with his cat dorothea so he can live with mike to make that converted bus plan. After securing a proper job that let’s him work at home flexibly like mike’s, they get on with their plan and sets off to travel in their house on wheels with their two cats. They end up getting married ofc and lived happily ever after:)

Thank you and goodnight folks hsnsgsbssjshmshssmhs

[prurientpuddlejumper]

You’re a Mean One, Mr. Kneef (Part 3)

<- Part 2 | Part 4 ->

For @thatesqcrush​​’s Naughty or Nice Holiday Bingo! Filling the Mistletoe square

Bryan Kneef x Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Rough-ish hate-sex, mild degradation. Enthusiastic but dubious consent! They both want what’s happening but Bryan is reader’s boss who coerced her into the date and reader is now (half-jokingly?) blackmailing him. It’s super healthy 🙃 

5,400 words

Bryan wished he were drunk.

He reclined in a leather armchair, a warm weight in his lap. He stared intently and with disinterest at the embroidery on the edge of a red Christmas stocking hung above the fireplace in his parents’ living room while his tiny nieces and nephews giggled at holiday movies.

If he had been drunk, he would at least have an excuse for his behavior tonight.

No, not for making a dozen paralegal nobodies miss Christmas, leveraging his authority to coerce you into doing a personal favor, or introducing NC-17 language to a family dinner. Those were all par for the course for the most ruthless litigator at STR Laurie.

It was the particular favor he had coerced you into—asking you to pose as the MILF he’d been banging when she dumped him via text on Christmas Eve.

Just so he wouldn’t have to explain why Sydney wasn’t with him. 

Just so he wouldn’t be alone for the long drive.

Fucking brilliant.

Now his most obstinate, irritating, antagonistic employee knew about Sydney, knew how attached he’d gotten, had met his mother, and seen photos of him getting a bubble bath in the sink. (He loved his mom, but sometimes he wondered about murder.) Making you do such a humiliating favor seemed like a good way to finally control you. But his upper hand was quickly reversed.

You were right. The whole thing was pathetic.

Still, you were playing along better than he could have expected.

The strangest part was, you fit in with his family so much better than Sydney would have. She was hot, but honestly, dumb as a brick, and as difficult as Bryan himself. He had a better time with you. The way you gently teased him, commiserating with his family over what a pain in the ass he could be. The way you smiled so naturally… he saw how things could have been with Syd. With someone who called out his bullshit, but cared about him anyway.

It was a shame you were just pretending.

Try opening your heart sometime.

Fuck that.

He didn’t need to open up more. He needed to get back to the Bryan Kneef he used to be before some bitch fucked with his heart. He needed to get Syd out of his fucking mind and replace her with someone else. Anyone else.

He needed to fuck someone.

And you…

His attention turned to the weight in his lap.

You were there.

*****

When did the pretend little gestures start getting to you? Start feeling enough like real affection that there was a lonely ache in your stomach?

You fucking hated Bryan Kneef.

But there you were, your fingers tangled in his beard when no one was even watching.

You’d been sitting on Bryan’s lap for what felt like hours—you could probably figure out how many based on the number of Christmas movies that had played and how many of the children had gone off to bed in various guestrooms.

Now the fire in the hearth was burning low, and only the adults remained hanging around in the living room.

His hands were wrapped around your waist, and you had gotten so comfortable, you were practically nodding off to sleep against his chest. Bryan was getting more comfortable, too. You idly stroked his beard, and he didn’t disguise the way he nuzzled into your hand.

The private whispers you shared started as touchy warnings not to screw up your “Sydney” act and counter-threats to expose him if he crossed a line. But that invisible line kept moving, and the whispers became more like the sweet nothings between lovers they were meant to resemble.

He even started stroking your hair. Bryan Kneef, gently running his fingers over your scalp. It was a Christmas miracle.

You might have drifted off in his arms, except for one major distraction—the bulge pressing against your ass.

“What the hell is that?” you asked, close to his ear.

“My dick.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Stupid question, then.”

“Fuck you.”

“Want to?”

You accidentally let out a heady sigh instead of an offended gasp, and his hand moved a little higher, slipping under your knit sweater, grazing over your belly. You meant to tell him to fuck off. Really. You should have told him to cut it out. But the problem was, you didn’t want him to.

“My offer’s still on the table,” he murmured. “Since you’ve been such a good girl tonight. You deserve a reward.”

Being called a good girl did something to you, even though it was—or maybe because it was—somewhat demeaning. Your skin prickled. You swallowed the dryness in your throat. Your skin felt too hot… much too hot, and his thick cock was still trapped firmly between his hips and your ass. His offered reward.

“Y-yeah, I deserve a medal of honor.”

For what, again? For helping out your coworkers? They were already home with their families—you didn’t have to stay this long.

Maybe continuing the charade was just more fun than sitting in your apartment eating Chinese takeout. You accused Bryan of being lonely, but the truth was, you were the one who had nowhere to be tonight—everyone you cared about was half a country away. And your horny, irrational side wanted to feel that cock without so much clothing in the way. Wanted to feel exactly how a selfish asshole like Bryan would ravage you with it.

He would devour you like the big bad wolf…

“That wasn’t a no,” he observed, his beard tickling your ear.

“Shut up!” you hissed back, loud enough to draw attention.

He chuckled, and you felt the vibrations of his chest at your back. “Yes, kitten.”

To his credit, Bryan didn’t try anything further. His hands behaved themselves, chastely stroking your hair, and eventually his erection returned to its pre-arousal size. You had been on his lap for a long time, your ass grinding against his groin whenever you shifted. It was a natural, physical reaction… That was all.

The fact that it felt so good you were soaking through your panties was just natural biology, as well.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Bryan Kneef was the worst boss you ever had. He had no respect for his subordinates (or for anybody—you recalled the deposition in which he’d told a name partner of Reddick, Boseman & Lockhart to “call her own ass”). The fact that he was handsome just made you hate him more.

But god, his lap was warm. The smell of his cologne, and the steady rhythm of his breath…

You got to see a human side to him tonight. The way he acted with people he couldn’t treat like shit. A private side no one who knew him professionally—and you doubted any of the fifty-two other women he hooked up with per year—ever got to see. You were peeking behind the curtain of his life, and it made Bryan squirm. It was kind of cute. And your wild, horny side was clawing at the inside of your brain to give in to all the lewd promises he kept whispering.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK!

*****

Martha yawned and patted her husband’s knee. “Well, us old folks are going to bed. Feel free to stay as late as you like, just turn the TV off when you go. No one’s in your bedroom if you do decide to stay over,” she added. “I’m making waffles in the morning.”

You swiveled your head around at the empty couches and realized it was just you, Bryan, and his parents left in the living room. Everyone else had gone home or gone up to bed. Bryan had been so cranky about wanting to leave right after dinner, but after you settled onto his lap, neither of you had found a reason to move.

Bryan stood and dumped you unceremoniously off his lap—you barely stuck the landing. He stretched.

“Nah, we’d better head out, too. Thanks for dinner, ma.” He kissed her cheek and hugged her and his dad goodbye. “Get your things, Syd,” he snapped.

Sounded like girlfriend-duty was over. Good. You could stop pretending to like him.

Good.

“Be nice,” Martha chided, batting him on the arm. “Go help her find her coat; she doesn’t know the way around.”

Bryan put his hand on the small of your back and led you through an archway to the entrance hall.

His father cackled as you passed through it. “Look up!”

Mistletoe.

Bryan glanced up at the bundle of mistletoe without moving his head, so it looked like he was rolling his eyes. Then he looked at you and quirked a brow. You let out an awkward laugh, which he took to mean kissing was not part of the deal.

“It’s depraved that you want to make your children kiss,” he said dryly. “You do this to Tim and Steve, too?”

“We did, and it was adorable.”

“It’s tradition! Kiss. Kiss!”

“We are not going to kiss for you like trained monkeys,” said Bryan.

His parents passed under the arch and pecked each other’s lips.

“I love you, dear,” said his mom to his dad.

“Love you, too,” said his dad to his mom.

“No,” said Bryan.

“’ Night, peanut.” Martha pinched his cheek, and she and her husband took their perfectly hideous matching holiday sweaters upstairs.

“There,” Bryan sighed as his parents’ bedroom door clicked shut. “That wraps it up. Good work tonight.” Genuine praise from Mr. Kneef was rare, and sent a strange flush of heat between your legs. He turned toward the closet to fetch your coat, but you caught his wrist. He turned back to you.

“It is tradition…”

“Is it now?” His eyes narrowed, and a confident smirk turned the corners of his lips. He stepped closer, dangerously into your space, pushing you back against the corridor wall. “We wouldn’t want to defy tradition...”

Fuck, fuck—what were you doing?

His scent was overpowering and masculine, his presence overwhelming your senses, making him seem so much taller than he was as he shadowed you from the overhead light. You grabbed the front of his cashmere sweater and pulled. His lips crashed into yours, as hungry and fierce as you dreamed they’d be. There was no slow mounting of intensity—the moment his mouth was on yours it was fighting for dominance, wet and hot, his tongue forcing your lips open, not giving you a second to catch your breath. He tasted like cocoa and peppermint. A low growl rumbled from his throat, and you felt it in yours, his tongue was buried so deeply down it. You wrapped your arms behind his neck, tangling your fingers in his salt-and-pepper hair, drawing his weight down on you, letting him trap you against the wall. Someone was making a pathetic high-pitched whimper, and you realized it was you, desperately clawing at his sweater to grab more of him, rocking your hips forward until he reciprocated and his erection pushed against the aching heat between your legs.

When he finally pulled away, you were panting, lips drenched and throbbing from his aggressive technique. His hand was unabashedly cupping your ass, rolling the fat of it in his palm.

Oh, fuck.

No. No, no, no. He’s an asshole. A shallow jerk, and you hate him. You were not supposed to give him the satisfaction of seducing you.

He brought a hand to your face, holding it firm to keep you looking at him. His green eyes were dark with lust and energetic with desire. He lowered his face to yours and licked the saliva off your mouth. You shuddered, hips twitching forward into his cock.

Then again, it wasn’t like this meant you had feelings for him. He certainly didn’t have any for you. This was about sex. About your satisfaction. What was so wrong about fucking your boss?

The same dominating, shameless personality that made him a nightmare to work for would be right up your alley in bed. You wanted those big hands all over you, holding you down. That filthy mouth degrading you. You wanted him to call you kitten and sweetheart while he had his way with you.

His big hand was still holding your face, his lips still breathing your air as they hovered over yours.

That was it. The floodgates were open, and there was no closing them again. The wild, wanton part of you won out and took control. There would be no more rational decisions tonight.

“Can I have my reward now… Mr. Kneef?”

“Yeah?” he breathed against your lips, still pinning you. “You want the medal of honor?”

“Fuck you.”

“Since you asked nicely.” He grabbed your hand and dragged you up the master staircase, down a hallway, and pushed you into a bedroom.

As soon as the door was closed behind you, his demeanor shifted slightly. His strong hands were pawing at your ass, roving under your clothing, but he pulled his head back when you tried to kiss him. “You sure you want to do this? To be clear, this is not part of our arrangement—I don’t want to hear from HR later that I forced you to fuck me.”

“I plan to leave this part out of the complaint I’m filing.”

“Good to know you’re still filing it.” He pinched one of your nipples through your bra to punctuate the thought. You tried not to melt in his hands.

“Maybe that depends on your performance,” you purred, letting a slow, wicked smile spread over your lips. “You’d better fuck me like your job depends on it, Mr. Kneef.”

“Treacherous little bitch,” he growled. “I like this side of you. You just tell daddy exactly how you want it...” His teeth grazed your ear. A flight of goosebumps broke out over the back of your neck.

“Oh, fuck… I want that nasty fucking attitude of yours. You never hold back, never have any respect for anyone—I bet you like giving it hard, don’t you?” You pulled his hips toward you and snapped yours against them.

“Is that what you want? You like it rough?” His fingers tangled in your hair and pulled your head back, exposing your neck. His lips were hot and his beard scratchy as he sucked a mark onto the soft skin of your throat while you moaned.

“Yeah. I want you to use me. Think you can do that?” you challenged, only a slight hitch to your breath betraying what his mouth was making you feel.

Despite the soft domesticity of your performed cuddling earlier, you could only imagine Bryan one way. And soft wasn’t it. One tolerable night didn’t mean you liked him… but it was kind of hotter if you didn’t. You had your own frustrations to work out.

The big bad wolf could fuck you hard enough to forget you were alone on Christmas.

“I think I can handle it.” He pulled harder and sucked another mark, this time enough to leave a bruise.

You let a moan slip out, grateful it was the time of year you could get away with wearing a scarf all week until those faded… because you wanted more—a whole little collection from Bryan Kneef’s filthy mouth.

“I knew you were a slut deep down…” He found the hem of your sweater and yanked it off over your head in one motion. “Having such filthy thoughts about your boss is naughty behavior,” he tutted. “Santa’s going to bring you coal.”

“And what about sexually harassing your employee?” You cocked an eyebrow, using the temporary space between you to posture with your hands on your hips defiantly.

“You’ve got no case for that one, sweetheart,” he chuckled darkly, stroking your cheek with unsettling fondness. “You barged into my private office and asked me out for drinks. Sounds like you’re just a slut.”

You glowered at him incredulously because… he wasn’t… wrong.

“It’s OK. I like sluts.” He smirked. The thumb stroking your cheek worked its way over your chin, brushed your pouted lips, and slipped between them. Your tongue instinctively darted out to taste the salty pad, and his eyes darkened with desire. “That’s right… take it, you filthy little—” He hissed when you nipped him hard enough to get his attention.

“And you’re lucky naughty boys are fun to play with.” You ran your tongue over his thumb soothingly.

His chest reverberated with a predatory grumble. You were going to pay for that. Within seconds he had your top off, and then your bra—his hands were everywhere, rough and demanding, not waiting for permission.

He wrapped one strong arm around your back to brace you and lowered his face to your breasts and started sucking on them, hard. His free hand kneaded your other breast, rolling the hardened peak under his thumb. Lightning shot through your body, making your back arch, your chest rising into his mouth. “Oh, Mr. Kneef…” you moaned, curling your fingers into his thick hair.

He was so ravenous his beard burned your skin, his tongue leaving wet trails of saliva along your abused breasts. Your nails dug into the back of his head as you pulled him deeper against you, encouraging every dangerous graze of his teeth and every mark he left on your skin that turned your lower body into molten lava.

“Fuck… yes, Mr. Kneef,” you panted. Always “Mr. Kneef.” It did something frenzied and primal to remember you were fucking your boss. Bryan wasn’t the kind of man you would fuck unless he was your boss. He wasn’t a lover, he was a kink.

Just when your raw nipples couldn’t take anymore, his mouth was on your lips again, assaulting your tongue with his, deep and persistent. There was a blur of movement. Your stomach lurched, the room spun, and suddenly you were on your back, on a mattress with Bryan on top of you.

Then he was sitting back, pulling his cashmere sweater off and unbuttoning his dress shirt while your fingers grasped at his belt, fumbling to unbuckle it. The tent straining the fabric beneath it was considerable, and that melting heat in your core was desperate for it.

You could see the dark need in Bryan’s eyes, but he managed a little more restraint than you were capable of in the moment. “Ground rules,” he said. “If you want to go through with this, there’s none of that fake lovey-dovey shit, understand? You are not my pretend-girlfriend. I am not going to be tender. There’s no cuddling.” His white undershirt fell open and revealed a broad chest covered in a forest of greying hair you wanted to get lost in. He followed the path of your eyes, and one corner of his lips twitched into a greedy smirk. “I am going to fuck you. Hard,” he growled, lowering his body on top of you, so close you could feel the heat of his skin on yours, the tickle of his chest hair on your sore breasts. His half-undone belt hung down and dragged on your hips. “I am fucking pissed about being dumped, and you are just a replacement. A body for me to fuck. That’s the deal—do you understand? Don’t come running to me Monday expecting any special attention.”

“Deal. On one condition.” You grabbed his beard and pulled his face down so his eyes were locked with yours. “You don’t fucking tell anybody about this. No one at work hears a word. No disgusting locking room talk. I am not one of your conquests. You want to tell anyone you got laid? It was Sydney.”

“Deal, Syd. Now shut the fuck up.”

You released his beard and pat his face condescendingly. He caught your wrist with an annoyed grunt, fingers circling it effortlessly, and pinned it beside your head on the mattress. Then he was stealing your breath with another fierce kiss, all teeth and tongue and snarling into your mouth. You felt dizzy when he finally broke it to pull his shirt the rest of the way off and toss it aside.

“Oh fuck, Mr. Kneef… you really are attractive,” you commented, running your free hand over his muscular chest and arms. God, those arms were the size of your head, with thick veins running their length.

He glanced down at you but barely took note of the way you were salivating over his body. He knew how hot he was. It wasn’t news. What interested him was you.

He slid your skirt and panties down over your hips, stripping you completely naked on the bed, and looked you over appreciatively. For someone who dressed so conservatively all the time at work, you were sexier than the real fucking Syd. He was starting to think it was a good thing the bitch dumped him—look at all he was missing out on being chained to one pussy.

“You OK?” you asked. You noticed him pause after getting your clothes off, and he had that strange sort of sad look again.

He blinked, and his eyes hardened.

His pants dropped to the floor so he was standing just in his boxers. Then he was on top of you, pushing you back down into the mattress, using his knees to spread your thighs apart. That wild, needy heat flared up within you, anticipating it.

You reached between his legs to cup his bulge through his underwear, his heavy balls, the stiff erection above it. His cock was so thick you gasped as your fingers surrounded it to take in its size, and couldn’t wrap all the way around.

“Fuck. Oh wow, fuck. That’s huge,” you husked, voice slurred with desire. “I guess when you strut around like you’ve got a huge dick, it’s for a good reason. I always thought you were compensating for something.”

He growled and thrust his hips between your spread legs so you could feel that massive cock grind against your pussy.

“Ohh—fuck!” you groaned. You considered the monster between Bryan’s legs, and suddenly the idea of him fucking you with it as hard as you asked for made your throat go dry. “I don’t know if I can take this all at once.”

“You won’t be able to walk right on Monday. Everyone’s going to know what a great holiday you had,” he promised sinfully. “I’m going to rip you in half.” He rocked his hips again, rubbing your clit with the pressure of it, and you felt yourself getting wetter.

“I fucking mean it, Bryan. You are actually going to hurt me with that thing.”

His face grew serious. “You want me to stop, say stop—any time. Say no. Slow down. I’m not going to fucking hurt you.”

That was entirely relieving, actually. You’d kind of jumped into this hoping he’d ride you hard and push you around, but the fantasy didn’t work if you weren’t in control if he pushed too far. You were actually putting a lot of trust in a man you hated because you were horny.

He felt like shit that you’d think he would actually hurt you like that. But he could hardly blame you. “If you can’t speak, tap out. Can you do that? Show me you know what I’m fucking talking about and you’re not just nodding along.”

You scowled indignantly and tapped three times on his arm.

“Good girl.” His beard was tickling the soft skin of your chest as he made a path of bites and kisses down your body. “Don’t worry, kitten. When I’m done, you’ll be begging for me.”

He lifted your legs over his shoulders and sucked a long, teasing mark into one of your thighs, pinching the flesh in his teeth, determined to leave a lasting impression with this one—so anyone else who might fuck you in the next few weeks would know he was there. Then he moved his attention to your already-drenched heat. He dipped one of his long, thick fingers in first, and you gasped, flinching as it plunged its full length up to the knuckle into you, and he chuckled at your reaction.

“You’re tight even around one finger,” he said. “Am I making you nervous?”

You looked down your body at Mr. Kneef, your asshole boss, between your legs, slowly pumping a finger inside you. “Fuck you.”

“Trying, but I’ve got my work cut out. What a beautiful pussy, though…”

Without warning, his tongue darted out and licked your clit. You felt yourself clench around his probing finger and relax again, flooding with warmth. He grinned against your heat and began eating you out relentlessly, filling the room with filthy wet sucking and lapping sounds. Your soft, whimpering cries filled the air, too—you tried not to make too much noise with his family in the house, but you couldn’t stop a few from slipping out. You yelped as he added fingers with just as little warning, stretching you open a little at a time. He changed up the pattern and speed of his tongue on your clit, always backing away just as the molten heat of your orgasm began to build to its delicious, irresistible heights. He didn’t stop until his beard was soaked, and your pussy was practically sucking his fingers in with the need to be satisfied—until you were begging for it.

“Please… Mr. Kneef—ah! Please let me come?”

“Now, now. You’re going to come on daddy’s cock.”

“Yes!” you gasped, clawing at his hair, “Yes—fuck me. Oh god, fill me up with that perfect cock.”

He stripped his boxers off, and his red cock sprang free, already glistening with arousal, the smooth head pulled out of his foreskin. Veins snaked up the sides of it just like his arms and the backs of his hands. It was every bit as big and solid.

Kneeling between your legs, he gave his cock a few strokes and rubbed it through your dripping wet folds. The blunt, hot pressure of it sent waves of arousal up your spine. Your legs opened a little wider without your bidding them to.

“Wait!” you choked out, coming to your senses. “Condom.”

Bryan grumbled. “I’ve only been with one partner for the last three months. I’m clean.”

“Put a fucking condom on—”

“Or you’ll tell HR?”

“And your mom, too.”

“Bitch.” He smiled, the corners of his bright eyes wrinkling. Nobody ever called you that like it was a compliment before.

“Asshole.”

There were condoms in his business card case, as if he had rather expected the night to go this way.

When he finally entered you, he was studying your face almost tenderly for signs of pain or hesitation. He worked you open in a steady movement—not rough as promised, but not patiently waiting. His blunt head stretched you more than his fingers, but you were so sensitive already—so close—your walls eagerly gripped him, reshaping for his size, and the sore, burning sensation of being stuffed past your limit was one you relished as much as the pleasure.

Your legs hooked around the back of his thighs and guided him in until he was buried in your tight warmth.

Slowly at first, he rolled his hips fluidly until he was sure you could take it. When he felt you relax around his cock, your eyes on his with lust-blown desire, he snapped his hips against you once, the smack of flesh echoing through the quiet dark of the bedroom. A deep, startled moan followed it, torn out of your chest.

You were already at the limit of pressure your body could take just being filled by Bryan’s cock. The hard thrust went even deeper—too deep. You had never felt such a fullness before, and—fuck—he was hitting something so deep inside. Something that made your whole body start to melt. It didn’t matter if you could take it or not.

You wanted every inch of this bastard.

“Yes… That’s it… More. Give it to me.”

Bryan lifted your legs up onto his shoulders and leaned over you, pushing them toward your head. The new angle made him feel impossibly large, and when he found just the right angle for leverage, he started fucking you harder and deeper than you’d ever experienced. Every ruthless snap of his hips hit so deep it knocked the air from your lungs and drew a wailing moan from low in your throat.

He clamped a hand over your mouth, eyes a warning. “Quiet. Don’t wake the house.”

“Oh god… oh fuck, Bryan, you’re so… big.” Your voice shook as you tried to speak and hold back another moan.

Unlike the high, breathy gasps you usually gave, Bryan’s massive cock was pulling a new level of moan out of you, as penetrating as his thrusts. Another tore from your throat. You couldn’t hold it back if you wanted to, when his cock slammed into that spot that made you melt. It came from so deep within it shook your bones.

His hand covered your mouth again, and a fire kicked up in your stomach. The warmth of his salty palm pressing over your lips, pushing your head down into the mattress as he jackhammered into you—you were lost and aroused at the dominance of it. This time you grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand over your mouth tighter.

He tipped his head at you curiously, and you shot him a defiant look, grinning against his palm as he realized how much you liked being gagged.

“You like that, you little slut?”

You moaned even louder, letting him muffle you. You didn’t have to hold back now—the harder he rutted, the louder you wailed into the weight of his hand, which meant he didn’t have to hold back either.

The entire bed shook, legs scraping the floor with every powerful thrust as he fucked you into the mattress.

“Take that cock,” he grunted. “That tight pussy feels so good.”

Every stroke bottomed out, hitting depths you never thought possible, and hitting something that ached exquisitely and sent tendrils of molten heat out to your fingertips and down the base of your spine.

It came on so gradually you almost didn’t notice the warm tension building up in every part of your body until it was breaking over you like a wave. Bryan tightened his grip to silence your climax, sobbing into his hand, kissing it, but mostly just letting yourself cry out louder as wave after powerful wave shook you from toes to fingertips, making the world lose focus. All you could feel was him filling you so completely, fucking you through it as your walls convulsed around his cock, and the weight of his hand on your mouth holding you down, anchoring you.

He grunted, pumping faster, shallower as your walls clenched too tight to penetrate, then just as you were starting to come down from your high, his hips jerked, stuttering in their rhythm, and he heaved an exhausted, satisfied sigh as his hot release filled the condom.

His hips stilled. He slowly released your mouth, and you kept moaning, “Fuck… fuck… oh my god, fuck. That was so good.” Your skin was still prickling with warm needles, and you felt… vulnerable.

You felt him start to pull out and grabbed his thick ass, pulling him flush against you.

“Don’t...” you panted. “I want to feel you inside me a little longer.”

“I told you none of this clingy shit,” he frowned. His brow was beading with sweat, and a sheen covered his chest muscles. His pink nipples were hardened peaks in his greying chest hair.

“Shut the fuck up,” you sighed, head falling back on the pillows. You relaxed your legs off his shoulders and crossed them around his back, holding him in place. “I just love your cock. You’re still an asshole. Just shut up and pretend you’re someone nice for a second while I catch my breath.”

It wouldn’t last long before he grumbled about needing to shower and dispose of the condom. But for a few minutes, the callous Mr. Kneef did as he was told and held you as the stars faded behind your eyelids, and your breath stopped trembling. When he was quiet like that, his solid presence was comforting—an anchor when you felt like you might float away.

When he wasn’t taunting and condescending—being himself, in other words—you could imagine he was the kind of person you would want to hold you.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tagged: @beccabarba​ / @caked-crusader​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws​ / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @madamsnape921​ / @astrangegirlsmind​ / @neely1177​ / @onerestein​ / @welcometothemadxxhouse​ / @stardust-fray​ / @dreila03​ / @the-baby-bookworm​ / @ireadfanfictionontheweekends​ @storiesofsvu​ @xixxiixx​

[kipscorner]

Headernotes:

- THIS IS A LONG POST! - Anything in Parenthesis, feel free to change or remove - Feel free to change pronouns to match - Thank you for reblogging and using! <3

“(Name), can you explain again what we're doing?”

We're kicking off our fun, old-fashioned family Christmas by heading out into the country in the old front-wheel drive sleigh...to embrace the majesty of the winter landscape...and select that most important of Christmas symbols.”

“We're not driving all the way here so you can get one of those stupid ties with the Santa Clauses on it, are we?”

“Some jackass is riding my tail.”

“(Name)! Don't provoke them!”

“Burn some dust here. Eat my rubber.”

“Eat my road grit, liver lips!”

“(Name), stop it! I don't want to spend the holidays dead!”

“Will you just take it easy, (Name)? I'm in complete control.”

“(Name), we're stuck under a truck!”

“Do you think I don't know that?”

“For Christ sake, I didn't do this on purpose!” 

“My toes are numb.”

“I can't feel my leg.”

“(Name), that thing wouldn't fit in our yard.”

“It's not going in our yard, (Name). It's going in our living room.”

“She'll see it later, (Name). Her eyes are frozen.”

“Hey, (Name)! Where do you think you're gonna put a tree that big?”

“You've got a lot of nerve talking to me like that.”

“I wasn't talking to you.”

“It looks great. A little full. A lot of sap.”

“Did I tell you I talked to my mother?”

“They've decided they're coming for Christmas too.”

“You're forgetting how difficult it's gonna be having everybody in the house.”

“(Name), they're family. They're not strangers off the street.”

“Yeah. And about my mother accusing your mother of buying cheap hot dogs. And your mother accusing my mother of waxing her upper lip.”

“I want to have Christmas here in our house. It means a lot to me. All my life I've wanted to have a big family Christmas.”

“The question is, what will you do with that bonus? Gonna blow it on yourself, I hope.”

“Oh, my God, you're putting in a pool.”

“Layman's terms. None of that inside bullshit jargon nobody understands.”

“Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Kiss my ass. Kiss his ass. Kiss your ass.Happy Hanukkah.”

“Wouldn't be the Christmas shopping season if stores were less hooter--Hotter than they are.”

“You have your coat on.”

“There is a nip in the air though.”

“Can I take something out for you?”

“'Tis the season to be merry.”

“Folks! Folks! Folks! Merry Christmas!”

“Look at how big you've gotten!”

“They're not sleeping in my room. I'm gonna go crazy.”

“We're gonna have the best-looking house in town.”

“Come on, unravel these. You have to check every bulb. Got a little knot here. You work on that. I'll get the other box.”

“Would it be indecent to ask the grandparents to stay at a hotel?”

“We're all making sacrifices, (Name).”

“Well, I don't know what to say except it's Christmas and we're all in misery.”

“And why is the carpet all wet, (Name)?”

I don't know, (Name)!”

“I hope nobody I know drives by and sees me standing in the yard, staring at the house in my pajamas.”

“Talk about pissing your money away.”

“Let's get in where it's warm.”

“Now, look, if you need any help...give me a holler. I'll be asleep.”

“Where the hell is that cold coming from?”

“I want to take off these clothes, sit with a glass of wine and kiss your body.”

“Are you out here for a reason, or are you just avoiding the family?”

“Do you honestly think I would check thousands of lights if the extension cord wasn't plugged in?”

“You deserve a home like this to spend Christmas in.”

“You taught me everything I know about exterior illumination.”

“I hope this adds to your enjoyment of the holidays.”

“You got a kiss for me?”

“Better take a rain check on that. (pronouns) got a lip fungus they ain't identified yet.”

“We named him that because he's got this sinus condition.”

“You pet him and he'll love you till the day you die.”

“If I woke up with my head sewn to the carpet, I wouldn't be more surprised then I am right now.”

“After that long drive, we could use a little private time together.”

“(Name), help me get some hot chocolate. It's cold.”

“A little tree water ain't gonna hurt him. Before we left, he drank a half a quart of Pennzoil. Boy, when he lifted his leg the next morning…”

“It's a crying shame the older kids couldn't make it.”

“She's got these big horns growing right out above her ears. Yeah, she's ugly as sin, but a sweet gal. And a hell of a good cook.”

“Can I refill your eggnog? Get you something to eat? Drive you out to nowhere and leave you for dead?”

“Oh, that there? That's an RV.”

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm in the middle of an important call. Get me somebody. Anybody. And get me somebody while I wait.”

“We're gonna fly down the hill with this stuff.”

“You know that metal plate in my head? I had to have it replaced because every time (Name) revved up the microwave...I'd piss my pants and forget who I was for a half-hour or so.”

“Nothing like waiting till the last minute, huh?”

“What are you doing up, sweetheart?”

“You shouldn't use that word.”

“I don't think he should be nervous and you shouldn't be either. Because if you're good, Santa knows it. If you believe in him and you believe in your mom and you believe in your...Your dad. If you've been good all year round, Santa is gonna bring you something.”

“Well, I happen to know for a fact that Santa Claus is real. And in the next couple of days… somehow I'm gonna prove it to you.”

“It's good you came to stay with us.”

“I think you'd better go back to bed now.”

“Aren't you having any breakfast?”

“Oh, the silent majesty of a winter's morn. The clean, cool chill of the holiday air.

And an asshole in his bathrobe emptying a chemical toilet into my sewer.”

“It's a sewer. If it fills with gas, I pity the person who lights a match near it.”

“Merry Christmas. Shitter was full!”

“In seven years he couldn't find a job?”

“(Name) and I want to help you give the kids a nice Christmas.”

“This isn't charity. It's family.”

“If you don't tell me what they want, I'll go out and get it on my own.”

“Is your house on fire, (Name)?”

“No, those are Christmas lights.”

“Don't throw me down, (Name).”

“Oh, that was fun. I love riding in cars.”

“Oh, dear. Did I break wind?”

“You shouldn't have brought presents.”

“This box is meowing.”

“(Name)? (pronoun) passed away 30 years ago.”

“They want you to say grace. The blessing!”

“I told you we put it in too early.”

“I heard on the news that a pilot spotted Santa's sled on its way from New York.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, (Name)?”

“If he keeps it up, it will be his last Christmas.”

“Look what you've done to my tree!”

“It was an ugly tree, anyway.”

“I'm sorry if I've been a little short with everyone lately.”

“...I didn't have enough in my account to cover the check.”

“I can't swim, (Name).”

“(Name), that's the gift that keeps on giving the whole year.”

“If this isn't the biggest punch in the face I ever got. Goddamn it!”

“I wanna look him straight in the eye and tell him what a cheap, lying, no good, rotten, four-flushing low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed ignorant, bloodsucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless ignorant, bloodsucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless heartless, fat-assed, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where's the Tylenol?”

“He's got that crazed look in his eye.”

“Turn that thing off and get in the house!”

“Aren't you a bit sorry we didn't get a Christmas tree?”

“Well, where you gonna find a tree at this hour on Christmas Eve?”

“Could you just keep it in mind the next time you go berserk?”

“I didn't go berserk. I simply solved a problem.”

“You couldn't hear a dump truck driving through a nitroglycerin plant.”

“I'm gonna catch it in the coat and smack it with the hammer.”

“I'm going in with him.”

“You just march right over there and slug that creep in the face.”

“I can't just attack someone.”

“Where do you think you're going? Nobody's leaving. Nobody's walking out on this family Christmas. No, no. We're all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm

holiday emergency here.”

“We're gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fuckin’ Kaye.”

“And when Santa squeezes his ass down that chimney tonight he's gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nut house.”

“Worse? How could they get any worse? Take a look around you, (Name). We're at the threshold of hell!”

“You losing your temper with the whole family only makes things worse.”

“Are you gonna recite The Night Before Christmas?”

“No. It's your house. It's your Christmas.”

“You about ready to do some kissing?”

“I'm sorry. This is our family's first kidnapping.”

“I'll be more than happy to take the rap on this.”

“If you wanna come in, you are gonna have to break down the goddamn door!”

“Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!”

“I did something I shouldn't have, and these people called me on it.”

“It's Santa Claus!”

“She thinks she sees Santa.”

“No, it's the Christmas star. And that's all that matters tonight. Not bonuses or gifts or turkeys or trees. See, kids...it means something different to everybody. Now I know what it means to me.”

“That ain't the frigging Christmas star. It's a light on the sewage treatment plant.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.”

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 25: Silver Lining

Just another day, like any other. Esredes was on his walk to work, and in a particular mood. His mind was wandering once more as he passed the Vault, to fantasies that faded far beyond reality. Imagine if the Warrior hadn't interfered until Nidhogg reared his ugly head. Imagine if Ysayle had killed the Archbishop, before he could take on his own transformation, and the two of them had dealt with Nidhogg. Esredes hadn't trusted Ishgard's people enough, perhaps even less than Ysayle herself. He was fully mentally prepared for having to subjugate Ishgard to get it to listen to them. But perhaps, as things had turned out, not nearly as many would have needed subjugation. Perhaps he wouldn't need to help manage a fragile, in chaos city-state that had been taken over, especially when so many of his own had nothing even close to management skills, perhaps a proper parley would've been possible. And yet, Esredes pulled himself back to reality and reminded himself, that was never quite the case. Peace had been agreed to, and that was it. Himself and all of his were only here on Ishgard's terms or else, and the rest simply had to be dealt with. Still he went through his days in anticipation of being fired for shining progressives who repeated his ideologies on Ishgard's side, or of his house burning down when he got home. Ah, what would life have been like if he wasn't a failure who couldn't match up to idiotic children with goddess powers? It was a question he asked himself here and there, swirling around with all the others, and in his head, timelines began to split off, mirrors into other worlds for him to glance into. In one, he saw himself back with his family in Thanalan. He lived under a new identity and kept quiet and to himself, always afraid of the Ishgardian government finding him out. He worked a simple job that had him feeling nothing, and though he hoped to earn his parents' forgiveness through it, things didn't really change. Esredes looked away from the mirror and towards the approaching door to his office, and opened it and went inside. He greeted the receptionist as always, then greeted Heilyn and Ferrant, quipped with Heilyn about the fact he would never brush his damn hair properly and it looked like ass or something stupid like that. Work went steady today- Esredes cozied himself up with a cup of white tea and busied himself writing some in depth notes on Dragon Blood observations to use as a reference. With how many people he had encountered here and there who would do any amount of dubious things to obtain such information, the casual scrawl on the paper gave no indication of awareness of this. Just another day, just another paper amongst many, cloaked in the tranquility of absurdity. Another mirror opened in Esredes' head as he worked. In this one, Esredes had gone through with one of his fleeting ideas and fled to the Far East when Ishgard rejoined the Alliance, and oh my, was he lost. Completely out of his depth, he had to fight off multiple people trying to mug him in Kugane until someone watched his latest skirmish and approached him. "You're good with a sword," the man said as Esredes shrunk back and kept his hand wrapped around its handle. "How would you like an opportunity to put it to the test?" And so Esredes watched himself hesitantly agree after sixty and a half questions to work for a Kugane lord as a bodyguard. It was a place to stay and decent pay, to stand around and observe everyone like a hawk. He got to know some people around the home and the streets of Kugane who looked upon him with respect, yet caught himself glancing over the sea even on a good day and remembering everything he left completely behind. Esredes got up to refill his tea, and the mirror closed. Soon after, Heilyn called him over to the office across the hall, and surprised him with a sweater- knit entirely by him in that periwinkle blue reminiscent of Shiva. So that he had more than one sweater, Heilyn said. Esredes smiled and thanked the man back, giving him a soft hug of gratitude. Ferrant was also his usual cheerful self today, asking after if Esredes was feeling all right and letting him know he appreciated him. All very routine, yet he never tired of it. At lunch hour, he had an appointment of the strangest sort, so he retrieved his coat and exited the building and made his way down to the Firmament. Esredes was in a little bit of hot water recently, having chased down a double agent to his people and getting in trouble after he was arrested for the act of vigilantism- as if that was the worst thing he had done while back in the city. And yet the head Inquisitor on the chase wrote to him and invited him out to lunch with his friend who also got involved with the chase. To know them both as a person, she claimed. He was completely lost as to the motivation, but Esredes could tell she was an Inquisitor who had an actual soul, a normal person's thought process. So he accepted and went on a picnic. She served arancini, an imitation recipe from the Far East. Elouan took most of the conversation as Esredes anticipated, and he didn't have to do much work as he listened to her and her bodyguard talk about how much they want to visit the Far East, and Elouan filled them in on his own travels. What a nice and unexpected little bubble in the veil of absurdity. Another mirror manifested during the picnic, and Esredes saw himself with his knees curled up, sitting on the ground in a pathetically tiny cell, and from the expression on his face alone, clearly having lost his mind. He flinched and ignored the mirror after his initial glance, focusing his attention on Elouan's babbling exclusively. When everything wrapped up and he returned for the second half of work, Esredes made a few discreet calls in his office to the network about arrangements for later. A little outing with an actually human Inquisitor was nice, but the man knew what he was, and there was always work to do. He took a break in the middle to move over to the Blue Room for an appointment. Clover's ward Teagan had begun seeing him in the past couple months, a woman rescued from life in a fighting ring in Ul'dah who was still perpetually trying to learn and adjust to life beyond. They always had good discussions, even after he put her to looking into the water. This time, to teach her about Ishgardian culture, he had ended up going into his own story up until everything fell. "How did you do it? Turn it around, I mean? It must have been hard, pulling yourself out of that... how did you manage?" She asked him after that. Esredes had to pause a moment to think about his answer. "I had to take it a day at a time. The other members of the camp were not unsupportive. They were concerned, they wish they knew what to say or do, but I was completely unreachable. So, for one thing, I'm someone who doesn't believe in meeting your death unless you have to. It's more productive to die so someone else lives than to simply off yourself. So every day, it was get from start to finish. There was a routine. Do your tasks, break for meals, read in your tent, avoid talking to anyone any longer than you had to. Keep doing this, and eventually you would either die, or something would happen that you were waiting for. Just, something to happen. It was all I really had besides keeping in mind my family- what if I missed something happening? Eventually, I realized these people were that, people. Who cared. Who did not want to kill me for being a knight as I thought. And I decided that, while I could've fled to Thanalan and tried to live as a normal person, I wanted to stay and make a difference, even a small one. Help people in my situation to be saved and survive, not perish to Ishgard, even if there was no chance of making a bigger difference by that point. And when Ysayle entered the picture, that changed everything, and the rest is history." "I think I can understand that... I, for one, am glad the sun continued to rise for you...that you were able to find reasons to keep going, ways to help people." She gave a small smile. "I bet you've made plenty of differences with all the folks you've helped along your journey. Cause it's not just the big ones that matter, yeah?""Well, had I not been concerned about the small child who was alone in the woods, we wouldn't be here, so yes. And that's what I enjoy about doing this on the side nowadays- the pleasure of seeing it affect individual people in real time. The way I ended up discussing it with another client, is you have to figure out the way to get out of the room. You're in a room, and you can get out and see what's beyond it, but you're just not ready to yet, you find yourself unable. Once you can manage to get out of the room and see what's beyond it, everything becomes a little easier." Teagan tilted her head at this. "A... room? So... you finding the drive to help others helped you open your 'room'?" "It helped me get out of it, yes. I realized I still had something to do and people cared. People really helped a lot, even though I was pushing them away. Just knowing they wanted me to feel better and believed in me as a person.... after everything else fell through, it was all I had." She nodded and smiled a little. "I'm glad you were able to find the door, and that you had people there to help you find the knob." She paused for a brief moment. "... Thank you for sharing your story with me, Esredes. It's been really eye-opening." And so the session concluded, and soon Esredes was back out into the world. First half of the day was over, and then it was time for the second. There was not a formal meeting happening with his people tonight, but instead a get together of sorts at Vette's more recently acquired mansion she had made into a space for all of them to convene safely. Esredes went to and from everybody, making sure everyone was doing well, holding conversations and watching everyone enjoy themselves with a faint smile on his face. He stepped into the bathroom at one point to do his business, and washed his hands after. He was confused why there was a second bathroom mirror for a moment until it began to show him another reality. Esredes stepped back from the sink and put a hand against the wall to his left, the other going over his heart. Reflected back at him in the mirror was a collection of all the people he knew and loved close together, with himself standing further away on the platform and forced to stare at them. A mass public execution. Esredes rushed out of the bathroom and slammed the door shut, pressing his entire body against the door and breathing in and out, in and out. It's not real. It's not real. "Esredes?" Came a gentle voice, as Vette approached the man. She had most definitely felt the spike in distress from the aetherial bond they shared. She asked about how he was doing and put a soft hand to his cheek. "I'm all right, really." Esredes said. "I just had... an unexpected wave of fear come over me." Vette was always in tune with how he felt. She helped him calm down the rest of the way, and then lead him back to the gathering. The anxiety soon faded, and replaced by it, a warm feeling heated the blood inside him. For the rest of the evening, Esredes continued to engage with his family, waves of laughter and elation surging and falling in with the tide. He only hoped that the droplets of gratitude leaking from his fingertips and voice washed over everyone attending like a cool rain on a summer's day, for as he closed his eyes and let each droplet of noise from their voices and words hit him, everything stood right into place where it belonged.

--- @thecalmnessandthestorms / @heartofthefury Heilyn, Ferrant, Sartorius (unnamed mention) @eternal-finis Lieuvanne (unnamed mention) @shieldbcund Elouan @punches-and-cream-puffs Teagan @syerraffxiv Vette

[dany-is-my-queen]

Born To Be Yours | Part X

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)

Season 1-8

Word Count: 3,387

Note: This is the end of S2! Thank you for reading <3

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9

“Are you out of your mind?” Cersei peevishly protested. You heavily sighed. “You just want to prove yourself, and impress that northerner friend of yours-“ You cut her off.

“I don’t need to prove anything.” She rolled her eyes.

“So what do you want to earn from it? You’ll stay in the Red Keep with the other highborn ladies. End of this conversation.” You pressed your lips, not pushing harder cause the result would be the same. If you are in the same place Sansa is when this starts then you can keep an eye on her in case things go sideways for your brother’s army.

You stormed out of her chambers. Cersei might not hold the same affection she does for your brothers and sister but she doesn’t want you to die, in her own strange way she cares, not that she knows how to show it.

The bells rang, the troops were ready, Joffrey had the stupid idea of attacking the Starks now that they were distracted. He came to his senses thanks to you, he finally kind of admitted you are were right. And that that wasn’t a prudent decision.

Truth be told, you were afraid, afraid for your family safety, this is war, nothing less, you were always so self-confident, you believed the good would persevere, the strongest and largest forces would win, the smartest. You can be so wrong about that fact... Tonight a lot of people will die fighting for his own King, and just because your brother is a bastard. You might as well be one too, but you are not, you are Y/N Baratheon.

The Throne Room was lit by great flaming braziers. “I see you changed your mind.” Tyrion asserted.

“My mother is very convincing.” You jested. “Actually, I pondered it through, Sansa needs me, she’d be devastated if some plucky soldier manages to drive an ax through my heart.”

“You can’t die before confessing your feelings to your lady.” He playfully remarked. She and Shae arrived, they slightly bowed.

“Lady Sansa and Sheila.” He said in purpose.

“Shae.” She corrected him.

“Shae, yes.”

“What are you doing here?” You questioned half surprised, you didn’t expect to see her until you were on the Keep.

“King Joffrey sent me to see him off, my Princess, my Lord. And you? I thought-“

“I’m not going anywhere.” She smiled broadly, acknowledging you will stay by her side.

“Sansa, come here.” Joffrey called for her. Shae and your uncle discreetly said goodbye to one another.

“Be safe. You are my favorite uncle.”

“I know.” He winked.

“Some of those boys will never come back.” Sansa didn’t take her eyes off the group of men heading outside.

“Joffrey will. The worst always live.” She emotionless said. Shae frowned, a bit worried you’d be angry about that, you couldn’t care less.

At the Meagor’s holdfast you sat next to little Tommen. You took a few seconds to stare at him, what a fine, decent, and handsome prince he was, unlike Joffrey, he deserves to live, he deserves the very best of the world and more. Across the room, Sansa and Shae were talking to each other. Occasionally you glanced at her.

“I don’t want us to die, Y/N.” Your baby brother said.

“We are not. I promise you, my little lion. Your big sister is here to protect you.” You squeezed his hand.

“I’m glad Myrcella is not here.”

“So am I.” Though you missed her every single day since she left King’s Landing, you knew she was safe, you were grateful that uncle Tyrion sent her away in time.

Suddenly you heard your mother’s voice calling for the Stark girl. She shyly stood in front of her. Perhaps Sansa was scared that Cersei would be angry to see her show devotion for you, she thought she might get scolded for staring at her daughter in a lingering way.

“I was wondering where our little dove has flown. You look pale, child. Is your red flower still blooming?”

“Yes.”

“Fitting, isn’t it? The men will bleed out there and you will bleed here. Pour Lady Sansa some wine.”

“I’m not thirsty, your grace.”

“So? I didn’t offer you water. Pour my daughter wine too.” The handmaid gave you the cups, you didn’t want to drink to be honest, just gave it a small sip, Sansa repeated your act. “I’m glad you didn’t insist on nonsense, my dear. War is no place for someone like you.” You scowled.

“That’s not the reason I’m not there.” Sansa saw you tensing, she changed the subject once you took another gulp of wine.

“What is he doing here?” Referring to the man that beheaded her father.

“Ser Ilyn? He’s here to defend us. When the axes smashes down those doors, you might be glad to have him.”

“I have my sword right here.” You grasped the cold weapon, resting in the armchair.

“After all that Jaime and Robert taught you you’ll be able to protect us all.” She scoffed. You waved off her comment.

“The lads caught a groom and two maids trying to sneak away with a stolen horse and some gold cups.” Ser Mandon Moore informed.

“The battle’s first traitors. Have Ser Ilyn see to them. Put their heads on spikes outside the stables as a warning.” She commanded him. “The only way to keep the small folk loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy. Remember that if you ever hope to become a queen.”

“That’s a wrong understatement. Make them love you, not despise you.” You stated, not doubting of your words.

“You would definitively be a weak queen, my love.”

Everyone could already notice the Queen Regent was tipsy, maybe even drunk. She didn’t bring to care. Tommen fell asleep an hour ago, you didn’t want to let your guard down, in case you needed to run.

“Come, darling. Step closer. I know I’ve been hard on you. Lately it seems like you want to die. I can be a pain on your neck, but I can’t lose you, Y/N, I can’t.” She kinda sought to appease.

“It’s alright, mom. I’m still in one piece.”

“I have never been an example for you to follow.” You couldn’t get to the light all the faults she has had since you were a toddler, however, it wasn’t the time, nor was she in a position to talk about it.

“You can always start over.” It’s all you said back.

“She is very pretty, isn’t she?” You fixed your eyes on Sansa, she was holding hands with the other ladies, sitting in a circle on the floor. Some would say it was too obvious, your mother being one of them. You didn’t get to answer cause she was calling her once again.

“What are you doing?” Cersei asked, well knowing.

“Praying.” She plainly said.

“You’re perfect, aren’t you? Praying, what are you praying for?”

“For the gods to have mercy on us all.”

“Oh, on us all?”

“Yes, your grace.”

“Even me?”

“Of course, your grace.” You just listened to their conversation.

“Even Joffrey?”

“Joffrey is my-“

“Oh, shut up, you little fool. Praying for the gods to have mercy on us all. The gods have no mercy. That’s why they are gods. My father told me that when he caught me praying. My mother had just died. I didn’t really understand the concept of death, the finality of it. I thought that if I prayed hard enough the gods would return her to me. I was four.”

“Your father doesn’t believe in the gods?”

“He believes in them, he just doesn’t likes them very much. Y/N prays as well. But it’s okay as long as she knows who the real saviors are. Here.” She threw her a small pillow. “Another for her.”

“She doesn’t want to keep drinking, mother.” You spoke.

“Is that true, little dove?”

“I-I-“ Cersei was harassing her, the stutter gave her away, and you were growing weary of your mother’s behavior.

“You are just as frightened as this flock of hens. I should have been born a man. I rather face a thousand swords than to be shut up inside.”

“That was my intent too.” You objected.

“My daughter is gorgeous, don’t you think so? And she desires to spoil that face of hers out there.”

“Yes, your grace, she looks a lot like you.”

“Not the hair. These women. It was expected of me to ask them here. As it will be of you if you ever become Joffrey’s queen. If my wretched brother should somehow prevail, these hens will return to their cocks and crow of how my courage inspired them, lifted their spirits.”

“And if the city should fall?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? The Keep should hold for a time, if it were anyone else outside those gates I might hope for a private audience, but this is Stannis Baratheon. I’d have a better chance seducing his horse.” Sansa remained quiet. “Have I shocked you, little dove? Tears aren’t a woman’s only weapon. The best one’s between your legs. Learn how to use it. Do you have any notion of what happens when a city is sacked? No, you wouldn’t. If the city falls, these fine women should be in for a bit of a rape. Half of them will have bastards in their bellies come the morning. You’ll be glad of your red flower then. When a man’s blood is up, anything with tits looks good. A precious thing like you will look very, very good. A slice of cake just waiting to be eaten.” Cersei was tormenting Sansa because she wanted to bother you, upset you, and she achieved it, the uncomfortable look on the redhead's face was evident. She drank deeply from her glass.

“No one is going to rape Lady Sansa.” You promised, you wouldn’t let them get near her.

“Her hero will protect her. Yes. You, my sweet, sweet, silly daughter.” Cersei mocked, and Sansa flushed.

Cersei continued to tell Sansa stories about Jaime and her when they were children, you tried to distract yourself with your baby brother, you prayed for your uncle to succeed, for this to be over soon. You did not keep drinking, you were getting fond of wine, even ale. Now was not the moment to fill your veins with alcohol.

The Queen Regent apparently got curious about the foreign handmaiden, she didn’t act nervous, not even a bit, she asked her to tell a story, when Shae was about to begin Lancel burst in shouting at Cersei. He reported Tyrion’s destruction of the fleet and the landing of Stannis’s troops. She ordered him to fetch Joffrey inside.

“Your grace, what? The King’s presence is good for the morale.” He quibbled.

“Bring him back to his chambers now.”

“Not here?”

“With the women and children? Do you want him to be mocked as a coward for the rest of his life?”

“He is a coward.” You said out loud. She gave you a withering stare.

“Silence, Y/N.”

“Now, Ser Lancel.” He left, unconvinced. “Little dove, the real reason Ser Ilyn is here is for us. Stannis may take the city and the throne but he will not take us alive.”

The Lannister boy returned, he told the gold cloaks lost all heart when they saw Joffrey leaving. Cersei took both Tommen’s and your hand and rushed you off to the exit. Sansa tried to follow your gaze.

“What are you doing?” You baffling questioned.

“Buying us some time.”

“You can’t leave, these ladies-“

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” You got out of her grip.

“Are you coming back with her?” Your silence was the answer.

“Y/N, don’t go. I’m scared and if you are not with me-“ Tommen pleaded.

“My brave little lion. You are going to be just fine. You are very strong, just like father. I’ll be with you soon I promise.” You kissed his forehead. You didn’t look up to meet Cersei’s infuriated glare, you ran to Sansa’s room, where she must likely be.

You could never leave her behind. She was all that matters, Tommen will be safe with Cersei, she will defend him till her last breath. Something inside you told you uncle Stannis won’t be sitting on the throne tonight.

“...you won’t hurt me.” Sandor got there first, it was very odd, he seemed untroubled, under the circumstances of the battle. Sansa was relieved to see you.

“Of course he won’t.”

“No, princess, I won’t hurt her.” Sansa was holding the doll Ned gave her when they first arrived at King’s Landing.

“Why are you here?”

“Your big brother is a cunt. I won’t spend any other second of my life protecting a cunt. I wish you both good fortune, you might survive.” He walked out, leaving you alone with the northerner.

“Y/N... you came back. You must go with the Queen and the Prince.” You shook your head, taking her hand.

“No. My place is with you. I shall protect you and keep you from any harm. Remember, I’m not going anywhere.” She buried her face in your neck, the embrace was full of warmth. You laid in her bed, she gently placed her head on your chest. You were certain she could hear your shaky heartbeat, not for the war, nor for the fear but because of having her this close, you might as well confess your love right now, you don’t even know for sure if there is going to be a tomorrow.

She lifted her face, her eyes were dark, yours were too, there was only one thing you were dying to do. You softly caressed her cheek, your breaths became heavier, she closed her eyes and leaned closer, you sealed the kiss, her lips were oh so very thin, they were also edgy, a brief seconds later that changed, she deepened into it, melting your heart and body. Her hands resting in the back of your head and yours on her waist.

You smiled before the kiss ended, it felt like hours. You hope this is your last first kiss, with the woman you love. The bells rang again, you knew it was a sound of victory, you could tell the difference. Uncle Tyrion prevailed, you won.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. Since the first day you came into my life.” You mumbled in Sansa’s ear.

“I can’t even put into words all the things you make me feel with just being around. You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest, and most beautiful person I have ever known, and even that is an understatement.” She stuck her arm around you.

“You intoxicate my soul with your precious blue eyes, my lady.” You said in a playful, sweet tone.

“Is that a good thing?” You giggled.

“Yes, yes it is.” You stayed in the cozy bed for another while. This felt so good that a part of you didn’t believe it was actually happening.

A couple of days passed since the victory. Uncle Tyrion was unconscious. You hoped he’d wake up soon. Now you were all gathered on the Throne Room, you stood next to Lord Varys.

Joffrey proclaimed your grandfather, Tywin Lannister, the new Hand of the King, and the savior of the city. He also awarded Lord Baelish with the Castle of Harrenhal for brokering the alliance between House Lannister and House Tyrell.

Loras was called to step forward, he knelt before the throne. It was so good to see him again.

“If your family would ask anything of me, ask it, and it shall be yours.” Joffrey stated.

“Your grace, my sister Margaery, her husband was taken from us before. She remains innocent.” You could notice he was still grieving for Renly, you knew him too well. “I would ask you to find it in your heart to do us the great honor of joining our houses.” You weren’t utterly surprised by this request, Margaery has always dreamt of being Queen. Still, you found Sansa’s unreadable expression from atop de gallery. This was swelling news.

“...For the good of the realm, your councilors beg you to set Sansa Stark aside.” Your mother finished saying.

“I would like to heed your wishes and the wishes of my people, but I took a holy vow.”

“I have consulted with the High Septon and he assures me that the crimes of the Starks against the realm free you from any promise you have made to them in the sight of the gods.” Maester Pycelll concluded.

“The gods are good. I am free to heed my heart. Ser Loras, I will gladly wed your sweet sister. You will be my queen and I will love you from this day until my last day.” You were beyond happy for this but also you couldn’t help feel bad for Margaery, she was one of your best friends, you cared for her and now she is the one who will live hell with your brother. That is what she really wants, she’ll know how to handle it, you hope, maybe he’ll truly love her, in his odd own way. Your northerner lady was finally free from that horrendous engagement.

“Thank you for coming. You saved us, Loras. I’ll be forever in your debt.” You gave Loras a big hug, he reciprocated.

“You are like my little sister. If I can help I’ll always will.”

“I’m sorry about Renly.” He ducked his head.

“He was your uncle, Y/N. I am sorry too.”

“Y/N! It feels like it’s been ages, right? Always a pleasure to see you.” Margaery approached you and her brother.

“I can say the same. Congratulations on your betrothal to Joffrey, my lady.” She grinned widely.

“I don’t know him very well but if he is anything like you then I’ll be very happy.” You returned the polite smile. You better warn her, not today though.

“I’ve missed you so much. One of these days we should assemble and chat.”

“Absolutely.” You excused yourself, leaving Loras and Margaery a bit confused for your sudden departure. They shared a complicit gaze.

“Lady Sansa.” Littlefinger bowed and turned around. You don’t like him being near her, you waited until he disappeared into the crowd before addressing the Stark girl.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look with that southern hairstyle? It suits you perfectly.” She blushed.

“Have I told you you are the cutest girl in the Seven Kingdoms and beyond?” You chuckled. She smiled, it was an unburden one that you haven’t seen in a while. “Things will get better or worse from now on?”

“Don’t stress about the future, my lady. Live in the present and make the most of it.” You tenderly said.

“With you.”

“Yes, if it is with someone else I’ll get jealous.” You winked at her.

Only Varys, Podrick the squire, and Shae came to visit Tyrion. You of course went to check on him too, he did all the hard work, he defended the city when Joffrey fled the battlefield. Still, he didn’t even mention him.

“...The histories won’t mention you, but we will not forget.” Lord Varys assured your uncle.

“How are you feeling?” You entered the room.

“A Kingsguard almost split me in two. I am now the monster the world has always said I am.”

“No. You were amazing. You didn’t back down. You fought bravely to defend the ones you love. I won’t forget either.”

“Thanks, my dear Y/N. I wouldn’t let those bastards get to you. Is your lady okay?”

“She is. We will have to catch up, but that will be at another time. You need to rest to fully recover. Let’s don’t keep your lady waiting.” You alluded to Shae. At least he has various people who love him just the way he is.

In the next couple of weeks your relationship with Sansa evolved, you became closer, letting your feeling flow out without any shame, you love her in secret from Cersei and Joffrey, and the others who wouldn’t accept it, who would do anything to tear you apart. Things had changed, but for the better.

[ffakc]

The Weather Outside is Frightful - a Jeffrey Dean Morgan fanfiction

@negans-attagirl @jdmbbycakes @iluvneganandjamie

“For Rhinebeck, we’re looking at up to five inches per hour! Make sure you’ve got your milk and bread, folks, it’s going to be a doozy!” the weather man proclaimed. My husband changes the channel to our favorite trashy reality TV channel.

“I’d like to get five inches per hour,” I mutter for myself with a smirk and snuggle up under a fuzzy blanket.

“What did you just say?” Jeff laughs.

“Oh, nothing,” I sigh. Jeff is still giggling to himself. My silver fox leans over and growls in my ear.

“If you wanted to have sex, all you had to do was say so,” he kisses my neck with an obnoxious “MWAH!” sound.

“You’re so damn cute,” I try my best to climb onto my husband’s lap.

“How are you so hot even in your jammies, baby girl?” I grab his cheeks and kiss him.

“I don’t feel very hot,” I gesture to my VERY pregnant belly. Jeffrey scoffs.

“Nonsense! You’re carrying OUR child, that’s the most badass thing a lady can do!” he kisses my lips sweetly as he rubs the taut skin, “I love my girls.”

“We love you too, Daddy,” I smile and rock my hips against Jeff’s thigh. I moan with delight.

“Think about it this way, you’re rearranging your organs to bring a life into this world! How cool is that?”

“Jeff, that’s gross,” I laugh.

“I guess you’re right,” he chuckles. “So, what do my gals want for dinner, hm?”

“If I had my way, Pizza Hut stuffed crust. I’ve been craving that for a good week now. But I’m not about to make a delivery driver trek through this,” I climb off my man’s lap and rub his knee.

“Sweetheart, I’ve got a massive four wheel drive. Do you want pizza? I’ll get you pizza,” Jeff smiles, standing up off the couch.

“Yes please, Daddy. You’re so sweet.” I pull up the website on my phone, “What do you want?” I run my fingers over my stomach, which is now growling.

“You know I’m not picky,” Jeff grabs his keys and uses his remote start to warm his beast of a truck.

“Extra red onions, black olives, and sausage then,” I reply, Jeff hands me his card and kisses my forehead. “Ooh, and maybe a syrupy sweet fountain Pepsi?”

“You better be suckin’ on a breath mint then before you get near these lips! Also, Pepsi? Really? Oh, you better be fuckin’ messing with me.” I rest my sore feet on the ottoman and nod as Jeff pets my hair. “Fine, whatever. I’ll get you horse piss.” I laugh. That man is hopelessly addicted to his Coca Cola. “Anything else while I’m out?”

“Maybe a pregnancy test? I’ve been feeling weird lately,” I joke.

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying,” Jeff rolls his eyes with a grin and pulls on his flannel jacket, placing an unlit cigarette between his lips.

“Drive safe! I love you,” I blow him a kiss.

“I love you too, baby girl.”

***

“That’s your Daddy,” I trace my fingers over my belly, watching a rerun of Grey’s Anatomy that happened to be on. “He’s already wrapped around your little finger and he hasn’t even seen you in person yet,” I giggle. “We are so excited to meet you, baby girl.”

“Dinner is served, darlin’!” Jeff calls out and sets the pizza on the counter. I sit myself up a little straighter. Little flutters ripple across my abdomen.

“Jeff! Babe, come here!” I gesture to my stomach.

“Watching Daddy, hm? Wow, I miss my dark hair,” Jeff laughs and gets to his knees on the floor in front of the couch. I place his hand on my stomach and gently press my hand on top of his.

“Do you feel that? As soon as she heard your voice, she started moving.” Jeff gasps as a wide smile crosses his lips.

“I’m so in love with her already,” he kisses the little lumps where I assume a hand or a foot poked through. “That’s my daughter, my fucking daughter. It’s still so surreal to say. I’ve wanted a little girl for God knows how long,” he lowers his voice to a whisper, “I’ve loved you since the moment Mama said she was pregnant with you. Don’t you break your daddy’s heart, sweet pea.”

“I can’t imagine bringing a child into this world with anyone else,” I reply and kiss my husband deeply. “Alright, I suppose I should get up!” I grab Jeff’s outstretched hand and he pulls me off the couch. I place my pizza on a paper plate. Jeff looks me up and down.

“Look how fucking cute you are, doll. Daddy loves giving his gal what she wants,” my husband remarks and kisses my cheek. I sink my teeth into the greasy pizza and moan with delight. “Is it everything you hoped it would be?”

“God, yes. The grease makes my soul happy,” I laugh. Jeff sits on the barstool at the kitchen counter.

“So, umm, yeah,” my husband clears his throat. “Usually I couldn’t give two shits what people say on social media, but...” Jeff heaves a heavy sigh. “I was scrolling through Twitter while waiting for pizza and I saw a few comments here and there about how I’m too old for this,” he places a hand on my stomach.

“That’s stupid,” I roll my eyes.

“They say I’m too old for you too,” he grabs his phone and adjusts his bifcocals, “‘Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s going to be 72 when that kid graduates and his sugar baby’s going to be 42. You ever think about how weird that is? Ew. Poor kid.’ I keep telling myself it do-“ a single tear falls down his face as he places his phone back on the counter.

“It doesn’t matter, Jeffrey,” I cup his cheek my hand and kiss him. “Aww, baby, come here,” I hold his head against my chest. “You already cherish this baby with every ounce of love you have and that’s literally all our girl could ask for, is a Mommy and Daddy who want nothing more than to love her with all their hearts. Age is but a number, sweetheart. My dad was older when he had us kids and it didn’t affect his parenting one single bit. Also, calling me a sugar baby when anyone who follows me on any social media platform knows I never shut the fuck up about how much I love my husband.” Jeff laughs to himself. “I’d have to be in REALLY deep with the sugar baby thing if I let my sugar daddy put a living, breathing child inside me.”

“Yeah, you are absolutely right,” Jeff sniffles and kisses me. “They can call me ‘old’ all the live long day, but coming for my incredible wife and unborn child? I don’t take too kindly to that. That hurts. I swear, I think your pregnancy hormones are affecting me too,” he teases and flicks his tears away.

“I don’t blame you! That shit is rude and uncalled for!” I exclaim and take a bite of pizza. “Sorry, I got distracted,” I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “What can I say? I’m eating for two.”

“You are indeed,” Jeff smiles, he murmurs something to himself and gives my backside a squeeze. He nibbles his pizza.

“What’s that, Daddy?” I look up at him with innocent eyes and take a long sip of my drink.

“I said, ‘that ass’,” You’ve gotten so curvy, baby. Pregnancy looks real good on you. Who gave you the right to be so damn sexy?” I wiggle my hips as wetness pools between my thighs. “You’re lucky I don’t just shove this pizza off the counter and fuck you right here.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I smirk. I pull down my top slightly, revealing my overgrown and engorged breasts.

“Baby doll,” Jeff whines. I run my fingers over the zipper of his jeans, earning a moan from my gorgeous older man. He places one veiny, strong hand on my hip and the other in my hair as he kisses me deeply. His hand travels to my belly as his breath shudders against my lips.

“I love these new curves,” Jeff groans. “Why does this big, round pregnant belly turn me on so much?”

“Because you know it means you bred me so good?” I suggest, squeezing my breasts together. “Making my tits bigger, making my hips wider.”

“God yes. What can I do to make my gal feel good tonight?”

“Well, I’ve had another craving that isn’t pizza,” I trail my fingers down his chest, “A hot, steamy shower with my hands in your hair and your mouth on my needy, wet pussy. Oh Daddy, I need you.”

“Oh my,” Jeff clicks his tongue, his face flushing slightly, “You know how much I love devouring that sweet pussy. I could do that all day, every day if you’d let me.”

“I’d let you!” I pipe up, and Jeff laughs, dunking his crust in pizza sauce. “Just don’t put any pepper flakes on your pizza,” I wink and Jeff laughs even harder.

“Good lord, you really think I’d do that to you?”

“I don’t know, maybe! Now, let’s finish dinner, dessert is waiting for you,” I rub my husband’s shoulders and he lets out a satisfied groan. I throw my plate in the trash, “I’ll meet you in the shower,” I whisper against his ear. Jeff shoves the rest of his food in his mouth and chases after me. I crank the shower up as hot as it can go, Jeff grabs me by the waist from behind and rubs against me as he kisses my neck. I can feel how hard he is in his fitted jeans. I slip out of my clothes and my husband does the same, his cock throbbing as he slides out of his underwear.

“Look at what you do to me,” Jeff gestures downward.

“Oops,” I step under the water. I brush two fingers over my clit and whimper, then offer them to Jeff. He sucks them seductively. “Look what you do to ME.”

“Fuck girl, you taste so sweet,” his hands rest on my pregnant belly as I wrap my arms around his neck as we kiss.

“I need to sit down,” I remark and bite my lip. I sit back on the shower bench.

“That’s my good girl. You sit back and relax, pull my hair, and let Daddy enjoy himself. Don’t you move a muscle, let me do all the work, sweetheart,” Jeff ghosts his hot breath against me, smirking up at me. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He lets out a low growl of pleasure.

“You tease,” I whine, “Please Daddy, please. I need it, Jeffrey.” Jeff buries his face in what’s his. The water falls softly against his tanned skin.

“You taste so damn GOOD, girl,” Jeff rasps. A little bit of Negan slipped out with that statement. He breathes heavily as his mouth overtakes my most sensitive parts. His fingers curl inside me. My whole body jerks.

“Jeff! Oh my god!” I gasp. My silver fox groans loudly.

“Oh Princess, I want to make you scream. I want you to make an absolute fucking mess on my face,” he spreads my legs as far as my exhausted body can go and circles my throbbing clit with his ever-flickering tongue. God, what a talented tongue my gorgeous husband has.

“Jeffrey! Jeffrey, oh fuck! I’m so close, baby. Please, baby. Please, I need you so damn bad,” I plead, grasping onto his graying locks. He sucks gently as if I’m his favorite lollipop and smirks up at me. “FUCK!” I cry out, “JEFF! OH MY FUCKING GOD!” I can’t hold back, profanity and filthy, wet mouth sounds fill the air. My orgasm hits me like a powerful earthquake, a tidal wave of pure ecstasy. As if a surge of lightning coursed through my entire body. Jeff pants, planting soft kisses on my inner thighs. I stroke his hair as he kisses me passionately, my legs still trembling.

“Was is it as good for you as it was for me?” Jeff smiles.

“Oh god, better than I could have ever imagined, Daddy. I love you so damn much,” I breathe heavily.

“I love you more than anything. You make me the luckiest, Mrs. Morgan.”