#patrick and max | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mostlysignssomeportents · 9 months ago

Text

Boeing’s deliberately defective fleet of flying sky-wreckage

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TOMORROW (May 2) in WINNIPEG, then Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), Tartu, Estonia, and beyond!

Boeing's 787 "Dreamliner" is manufactured far from the company's Seattle facility, in a non-union shop in Charleston, South Carolina. At that shop, there is a cage full of defective parts that have been pulled from production because they are not airworthy.

Hundreds of parts from that Material Review Segregation Area (MRSA) were secretly pulled from that cage and installed on aircraft that are currently plying the world's skies. Among them, sections 47/48 of a 787 – the last four rows of the plane, along with its galley and rear toilets. As Moe Tkacik writes in her excellent piece on Boeing's lethally corrupt culture of financialization and whistleblower intimidation, this is a big ass chunk of an airplane, and there's no way it could go missing from the MRSA cage without a lot of people knowing about it:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-04-30-whistleblower-laws-protect-lawbreakers/

More: MRSA parts are prominently emblazoned with red marks denoting them as defective and unsafe. For a plane to escape Boeing's production line and find its way to a civilian airport near you with these defective parts installed, many people will have to see and ignore this literal red flag.

The MRSA cage was a special concern of John "Swampy" Barnett, the Boeing whistleblower who is alleged to have killed himself in March. Tkacik's earlier profile of Swampy paints a picture of a fearless, stubborn engineer who refused to go along to get along, refused to allow himself to become inured to Boeing's growing culture of profits over safety:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-03-28-suicide-mission-boeing/

Boeing is America's last aviation company and its single largest exporter. After the company was allowed to merge with its rival McDonnell-Douglas in 1997, the combined company came under MDD's notoriously financially oriented management culture. MDD CEO Harry Stonecipher became Boeing's CEO in the early 2000s. Stonecipher was a protege of Jack Welch, the man who destroyed General Electric with cuts to quality and workforce and aggressive union-busting, a classic Mafia-style "bust-out" that devoured the company's seed corn and left it a barren wasteland:

https://qz.com/1776080/how-the-mcdonnell-douglas-boeing-merger-led-to-the-737-max-crisis

Post-merger, Boeing became increasingly infected with MDD's culture. The company chased cheap, less-skilled labor to other countries and to America's great onshore-offshore sacrifice zone, the "right-to-work" American south, where bosses can fire uppity workers who balked at criminal orders, without the hassle of a union grievance.

Stonecipher was succeeded by Jim "Prince Jim" McNerney, ex-3M CEO, another Jack Welch protege (Welch spawned a botnet of sociopath looters who seized control of the country's largest, most successful firms, and drove them into the ground). McNerney had a cute name for the company's senior engineers: "phenomenally talented assholes." He created a program to help his managers force these skilled workers – everyone a Boeing who knew how to build a plane – out of the company.

McNerney's big idea was to get rid of "phenomenally talented assholes" and outsource the Dreamliner's design to Boeing's suppliers, who were utterly dependent on the company and could easily be pushed around (McNerney didn't care that most of these companies lacked engineering departments). This resulted in a $80b cost overrun, and a last-minute scramble to save the 787 by shipping a "cleanup crew" from Seattle to South Carolina, in the hopes that those "phenomenally talented assholes" could save McNerney's ass.

Swampy was part of the cleanup crew. He was terrified by what he saw there. Boeing had convinced the FAA to let them company perform its own inspections, replacing independent government inspectors with Boeing employees. The company would mark its own homework, and it swore that it wouldn't cheat.

Boeing cheated. Swampy dutifully reported the legion of safety violations he witnessed and was banished to babysit the MRSA, an assignment his managers viewed as a punishment that would isolate Swampy from the criminality he refused to stop reporting. Instead, Swampy audited the MRSA, and discovered that at least 420 defective aviation components had gone missing from the cage, presumably to be installed in planes that were behind schedule. Swampy then audited the keys to the MRSA and learned that hundreds of keys were "floating around" the Charleston facility. Virtually anyone could liberate a defective part and install it into an airplane without any paper trail.

Swampy's bosses had a plan for dealing with this. They ordered Swampy to "pencil whip" the investigations of 420 missing defective components and close the cases without actually figuring out what happened to them. Swampy refused.

Instead, Swampy took his concerns to a departmental meeting where 12 managers were present and announced that "if we can’t find them, any that we can’t find, we need to report it to the FAA." The only response came from a supervisor, who said, "We’re not going to report anything to the FAA."

The thing is, Swampy wasn't just protecting the lives of the passengers in those defective aircraft – he was also protecting Boeing employees. Under Sec 38 of the US Criminal Code, it's a 15-year felony to make any "materially false writing, entry, certification, document, record, data plate, label, or electronic communication concerning any aircraft or space vehicle part."

(When Swampy told a meeting that he took this seriously because "the paperwork is just as important as the aircraft" the room erupted in laughter.)

Swampy sent his own inspectors to the factory floor, and they discovered "dozens of red-painted defective parts installed on planes."

Swampy blew the whistle. How did the 787 – and the rest of Boeing's defective flying turkeys – escape the hangar and find their way into commercial airlines' fleets? Tkacik blames a 2000 whistleblower law called AIR21 that:

creates such byzantine procedures, locates adjudication power in such an outgunned federal agency, and gives whistleblowers such a narrow chance of success that it effectively immunizes airplane manufacturers, of which there is one in the United States, from suffering any legal repercussions from the testimony of their own workers.

By his own estimation, Swampy was ordered to commit two felonies per week for six years. Tkacik explains that this kind of operation relies on a culture of ignorance – managers must not document their orders, and workers must not be made aware of the law. Whistleblowers like Swampy, who spoke the unspeakable, were sidelined (an assessment by one of Swampy's managers called him "one of the best" and finished that "leadership would give hugs and high fives all around at his departure").

Multiple whistleblowers were singled out for retaliation and forced departure. William Hobek, a quality manager who refused to "pencil whip" the missing, massive 47-48 assembly that had wandered away from the MRSA cage, was given a "weak" performance review and fired despite an HR manager admitting that it was bogus.

Another quality manager, Cynthia Kitchens, filed an ethics complaint against manager Elton Wright who responded to her persistent reporting of defects on the line by shoving her against a wall and shouting that Boeing was "a good ol’ boys’ club and you need to get on board." Kitchens was fired in 2016. She had cancer at the time.

John Woods, yet another quality engineer, was fired after he refused to sign off on a corner-cutting process to repair a fuselage – the FAA later backed up his judgment.

Then there's Sam Salehpour, the 787 quality engineer whose tearful Congressional testimony described more corner-cutting on fuselage repairs:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PP0xhIe1LFE

Salehpour's boss followed the Boeing playbook to the letter: Salehpour was constantly harangued and bullied, and he was isolated from colleagues who might concur with his assessment. When Salehpour announced that he would give Congressional testimony, his car was sabotaged under mysterious circumstances.

It's a playbook. Salehpour's experience isn't unusual at Boeing. Two other engineers, working on the 787 Organization Designation Authorization, held up production by insisting that the company fix the planes' onboard navigation computers. Their boss gave them a terrible performance review, admitting that top management was furious at the delays and had ordered him to punish the engineers. The engineers' union grievance failed, with Boeing concluding that this conduct – which they admitted to – didn't rise to the level of retaliation.

As Tkacik points out, these engineers and managers that Boeing targeted for intimidation and retaliation are the very same staff who are supposed to be performing inspections of behalf of the FAA. In other words, Boeing has spent years attacking its own regulator, with total impunity.

But it's not just the FAA who've failed to take action – it's also the DOJ, who have consistently declined to bring prosecutions in most cases, and who settled the rare case they did bring with "deferred prosecution agreements." This pattern was true under Trump's DOJ and continued under Biden's tenure. Biden's prosecutors have been so lackluster that a federal judge "publicly rebuked the DOJ for failing to take seriously the reputational damage its conduct throughout the Boeing case was inflicting on the agency."

Meanwhile, there's the AIR21 rule, a "whistleblower" rule that actually protects Boeing from whistleblowers. Under AIR21, an aviation whistleblower who is retaliated against by their employer must first try to resolve their problem internally. If that fails, the whistleblower has only one course of action: file an OSHA complaint within 90 days (if HR takes more than 90 days to resolve your internal complaint, you can no have no further recourse). If you manage to raise a complaint with OSHA, it is heard by a secret tribunal that has no subpoena power and routinely takes five years to rule on cases, and rules against whistleblowers 97% of the time.

Boeing whistleblowers who missed the 90-day cutoff have filled the South Carolina courts with last-ditch attempts to hold the company to account. When they lose these cases – as is routine, given Boeing's enormous legal muscle and AIR21's legal handcuffs – they are often ordered to pay Boeing's legal costs.

Tkacik cites Swampy's lawyer, Rob Turkewitz, who says Swampy was the only one of Boeing's whistleblowers who was "savvy, meticulous, and fast-moving enough to bring an AIR 21 case capable of jumping through all the hoops" to file an AIR21 case, which then took seven years. Turkewitz calls Boeing South Carolina "a criminal enterprise."

That's a conclusion that's hard to argue with. Take Boeing's excuse for not producing the documentation of its slapdash reinstallation of the Alaska Air door plug that fell off its plane in flight: the company says it's not criminally liable for failing to provide the paperwork, because it never documented the repair. Not documenting the repair is also a crime.

You might have heard that there's some accountability coming to the Boeing boardroom, with the ouster of CEO David Calhoun. Calhoun's likely successor is Patrick Shanahan, whom Tkacik describes as "the architect of the ethos that governed the 787 program" and whom her source called "a classic schoolyard bully."

If Shanahan's name rings a bell, it might be because he was almost Trump's Secretary of Defense, but that was derailed by the news that he had "emphatically defended" his 17 year old son after the boy nearly beat his mother to death with a baseball bat. Shanahan is presently CEO of Spirit Aerospace, who made the door-plug that fell out of the Alaska Airlines 737 Max.

Boeing is a company where senior managers only fail up and where whistleblowers are terrorized in and out of the workplace. One of Tkacik's sources noticed his car shimmying. The source, an ex-787 worker who'd been fired after raising safety complaints, had tried to bring an AIR21 complaint, but withdrew it out of fear of being bankrupted if he was ordered to pay Boeing's legal costs. When the whistleblower pulled over, he discovered that two of the lug-nuts had been removed from one of his wheels.

The whistleblower texted Tkcacik to say (not for the first time): "If anything happens, I'm not suicidal."

Boeing is a primary aerospace contractor to the US government. It's clear that its management – and investors – consider it too big to jail. It's also clear that they know it's too big to fail – after all, the company did a $43b stock buyback, then got billions in a publicly funded buyback.

Boeing is, effectively, a government agency that is run for the benefit of its investors. It performs its own safety inspections. It investigates its own criminal violations of safety rules. It loots its own coffers and then refills them at public expense.

Meanwhile, the company has filled our skies with at least 420 airplanes with defective, red-painted parts that were locked up in the MRSA cage, then snuck out and fitted to an airplane that you or someone you love could fly on the next time you take your family on vacation or fly somewhere for work.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/01/boeing-boeing/#mrsa

Image: Tom Axford 1 (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Blue_sky_with_wisps_of_cloud_on_a_clear_summer_morning.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

Clemens Vasters (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:N7379E_-_Boeing_737_MAX_9.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

745 notes · View notes

reveluving · 2 months ago

Text

anything and everything ; paddy feld x reader x max

summary: it’s them and their girl against the fucking world.

warnings: s~mut obv (minors DNI!), Max & Paddy in general (if you've seen the movies, you know how they are. but! they're pretty tame here), minor character death (deserved; horrible ex + cheating but it's okay, you win in the end) including minor mentions of blood & breaking bones type of violence, Paddy & Max would do anything for you.

a/n: ta-da!! you don't know how excited I was to write this. had to rewrite a few things but I was too into the idea, I didn't mind kdlsajk and mind you, it's EXTRA nasty in this one, so, keep that in mind! please enjoy, take care & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» wanna know what I have in store this fall? come & check out this year's 'reve's quirky reverie' m.list! 🕷️'!

» smut includes: mildly DARK fic! mm4f, size kink, lovestruck & possessive (slightly mean) doms!paddy & max, shy-esque mc, ‘baby’ & ‘pretty girl’ as petnames, dirty talking, facesitting/oral s~ex (both f & m receiving, clothed(?) too), spit & tit play, marking, spanking, brief mentions of blood play (doesn’t happen), brief mentions of age gap (legal & consenting!!), teasing & mentions of punishment, did I mention possessive paddy & max yet?

'And it all came down to that very moment, in the middle of nowhere past two in the morning.' ;

Paddy’s fingers thrummed along the shape of the steering wheel, subtly displaying his excitement even at such an hour. The music coming from the radio was partially his saving grace from the fairly long drive but the anticipation of what was to come expelled any form of restlessness in his body.

The road he took practically didn’t exist on the map, but he had no problem navigating his destination the deeper he went into the woods, not when he had taken the route many times for the past couple of months for this very moment.

Slowly yet surely, he spotted a familiar car, the headlights remaining on were enough for Paddy to see a man overlooking something before him. He knew his landlord long enough to recognize the large, taller frame in the distance. He spotted the bundle of clothes by his feet, along with the rocks of different sizes next to it, and Paddy knew he had begun.

Good thing, too, for it was mere hours before your alarm would go off, and they wanted to be by your side as soon as you opened your pretty eyes.

Without wasting any time, Paddy turned the engine of his car off before exiting the vehicle, sauntering over to his good friend—your other partner—and standing next to him.

“Took you long enough.” Max scoffed, though largely jesting to get under Paddy’s skin.

“She slept later than usual.” Paddy explained, one corner of his lips quirking at the memory of mere hours ago, of him snuggling you against him, lulling you to sleep with kisses and pats before quietly leaving the unit once he was confident you were truly out like a light.

“She couldn’t sleep?” Max glanced at his friend, a hint of worry in his rich voice, to which Paddy shook his head.

“She’s just excited for tomorrow.”

Ah, Halloween.

Max hummed in understanding, then cut the conversation, or at least, the subject short. As much as he’d love to ask how you were doing, he and Paddy had business to take care of, and the ‘business’ in question stood right in the trench before them.

Chad, or really, they’d just prefer to call him ‘your ex’, stood naked in the ditch, shivering and battered from Max’s need to pour his frustration out on him an hour prior—remembering all the stories you’d tell them of how he had the gall to swoop in and take you from them, even if you weren’t theirs yet.

It was one thing to steal you from them, but it was another to treat you like you were worth less than cheap dirt. Manipulating you into thinking his mistreatments were just you ‘being a big baby’ or accusing you of how ‘possessive’ you were when he would ‘just casually talk’ to other women when you found the bravery to break up with him a year ago.

But were they really surprised by a pompous man, no, boy, with dodgy secrets? Spending his old money on pointless luxuries and meeting up with low lives behind his old girlfriends’ backs, including yours. It was a good thing you were out of the relationship earlier than his previous exes, but fuck, if Paddy and Max didn’t want to gouge his eyes out for even mistreating you in the first place.

They could never forget the tears in your eyes and on your cheek when you stopped by, reassuring them with a wobbly smile that you had ended the relationship, but not without seeing the man’s true colours by berating you for leaving him.

But that was in the past. The months that came after were nothing but bliss, for you and them. You didn’t think Paddy nor Max were open to the idea—the three of you—but you were proven wrong. You should’ve expected it, though, with how Paddy and Max were more or less alike, including but not limited to their ‘innocent’ flirting with you before it all went down.

But it wasn’t just the relationship that had them in high spirits.

It wasn’t hard to find his information online—the sucker was as terrible as an ‘influencer’ nowadays, and it was even easier to air his secrets out, destroying relationships including with his own family and even transferring most of his savings to shelters because why the hell not.

At one point, Max couldn’t resist taking a video of the poor guy borderline begging the lady he cheated with when you were still together at their usual meeting spot at a bar.

He and Paddy had the time of their lives watching the embarrassing scene, even anonymously sharing it on his hacked account before days later, Paddy tampered with the same woman’s drink enough for her to overdose and successfully framed your ex ‘as revenge for public humiliation’.

Yes, the past few months were priceless, to say the least.

But they never spent the whole time ruining the man’s life all the time, no, they had a beloved to take care of. The time to ruin lives could come whenever they pleased, but not precious moments with you.

Besides, wasn’t it more entertaining to drag out one’s victim’s despair just a little longer? The reactions to their downfall mattered, after all.

And it all came down to that very moment, in the middle of nowhere past two in the morning.

“Doesn't look like he's got a lot of fight in ‘em.” Paddy snorted.

“Good.” Max replied, short but well-pleased.

“Hey, man…” Chad croaked, and Max and Paddy immediately grimaced, “I didn't think she meant that much to you…. Honest…”

The two rolled their eyes in annoyance.

“At least think of a better lie, kid,” Max sighed, “‘s'not like we'd let you go if you did.”

Paddy huffed, amused at the truth in his words. If anything, they'd be doing the world a favour, removing a little parasite—yours, theirs, his ‘friends’ and exes, and hell, even his family—all while getting to call you theirs.

But, it was satisfying to see the pathetic sod being, well, pathetic. A way better look on him than the infuriatingly cocky façade he'd put up around others for whatever the hell he was leering for then.

“I’m not..! I–C'mon, I didn't even lay a hand on her–” Chad reasoned weakly, only to further set them off.

“You better pray you fucking didn't.” Paddy snarled. He and Max knew he didn't, but it didn't ease their anger any less because, at the end of the day, he still manipulated you in some way, using a few tricks to make you seem like you were the ‘overthinking’ one even if it didn't entirely work.

At the end of the day, he did you harm.

“Alright, y'got anything else to say, kid?” Max leaned his weight on one leg, adjusting the black gloves he had been wearing since he dragged the guy in the middle of nowhere. Paddy, too, put on his gloves as he turned around, all while eyeing the rocks.

“Wait, wait, wait—” Chad spoke in urgency, his teeth chattering from the chilly air, “I can pay up! I won’t tell anybody shit about this–”

“No, you won’t,” Max agreed as he interjected, honestly not wanting to listen to him anymore, “Not especially her name out of your mouth.”

Against his better judgement, Chad had the gall to shout at the mere mention of you.

“Her?” He yelled, his annoyance picking back when Max brought your name up multiple times during this whole thing, “Why the fuck does she matter to you that much anywa–”

Crunch.

Chad's head whipped to the side as the sizable rock Paddy threw landed at his temple, the sound horrific but satisfying to the two.

“Easy,” Max drawled, swiftly picking up a rock and inspecting it, “No fun in killing him already.”

“You wanna listen to him talk ‘bout her like that?” Paddy grunted, chest rising and falling at the audacity of a man who was on the brink of death.

“Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm pissed,” Max replied coolly, hiding his temper behind nonchalance. He felt the weight of the rock he held before eyeing Chad with a dangerous look, “But the head? Pat, come on, we made it this far. Play around with him a little.”

Paddy didn't have the time to reply as Max held the rock above him before throwing it, aiming right at Chad's leg with almost the same, if not, a nastier sound of impact than when Paddy threw it.

Chad yowled, falling to the ground before groaning in sheer pain. He could only sob on the ground, specks of dirt already in his eyes and mouth.

“See?” Max smiled cruelly, “Make him feel it, just like she had to.”

Just speaking of it riled him up just as it did to Paddy. They wanted to finally, finally get it rid of him, sure, but there was no harm in having fun with it just a little longer. They'd clean up the mess anyway, might as well say their final goodbyes to the son of a bitch for good.

“Yeah… Yeah, alright.” Paddy mirrored his friend's cold-blooded contentment, picking up another rock, this time, hoping to break any parts of his bones without instantly killing him just yet.

And just like that, Chad wished for his ultimate death as they prolonged his torture.

You, back in Paddy’s unit, were none the wiser, slowly waking up from your deep sleep. You turned, anticipating Paddy upon opening your bleary eyes, only to blink at the sight of Max, watching you with a warm smile as he lay on his side.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He greeted, bringing his hand to your face and caressing your cheek.

“G'morning…” You murmured with a shy smile, hiding one side of your face in the pillow.

“Oh, no, don't do that now,” Max chuckled, “Don't hide that pretty face from me.”

Even half asleep, he could make you giggle first thing in the morning.

“How'd you sleep?” He asked, his voice almost enough to lull you back to sleep.

“Good,” You responded, unaware of their little escapade hours ago. You yawned, “You?”

“Like a baby,” He grinned, causing your heart to flutter. In reality, he hadn't had a wink of sleep since he and Paddy drove back home, but the adrenaline of putting the bastard down gave him more than enough energy to see you, “Come here.”

Max gently led you to his lap, encouraging you to straddle his hips while resting your head on his chest, “Atta girl.”

You couldn't resist relaxing in his arms, not when he was so warm and comfortable, and he didn't want you to do so either, kissing the crown of your head while his hands slid up and down your sides.

But you knew Max long enough to know his touches didn't always stay innocent as his hands roamed lower and lower and lower before reaching the hem of your nightdress.

You eyed him suspiciously, “Max…”

He just hummed, leaning in to kiss your temple and cheek, “That's me.”

You huffed at his wits, only for your eyes to flutter shut as his hands roamed under the fabric, “Max, c'mon, I just woke up…”

You were a little worried about your morning breath and how you looked from just waking up, but he was having none of it.

“Can't hear you.” He drawled lowly against your skin, pulling you closer so he could latch his lips onto your neck. You jolted at the feeling of Max's palms gripping and kneading your ass, your body only growing tauter when a third hand slid up the curve of your back.

“Starting without me, pretty girl?” Paddy cooed, leaning in to kiss your cheek, the other side that Max hadn't touched yet.

“Paddy…” You whimpered, and as soon as you turned your head to look at him, briefly noticing he was shirtless, he slotted his lips against yours, the fingers of his other hand brushing along your neck before descending to your clothed breasts.

The haziness in your mind grew more than when you woke up, feeling pairs of lips and hands mark your body with vigour.

Max sat up, forcing you and Paddy to break the kiss as he slid the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

Paddy took a seat on the edge of the mattress, kissing your shoulder from behind, feeling his spine-chilling groans reverberating against your back.

And with two sick minds thinking alike, images of you covered in your ex’s blood in between them fueled their uncontrollable desires. Too bad every last drop of it had to be drained for obvious reasons. But it wouldn't hurt to imagine what could've been every once in a while.

So long the deed was done.

Good riddance, bitch.

Paddy pulled at your tits between his fingers, the same time Max nipped at the space between your neck and shoulder, leaving the barest hint of mark that begged to be darker.

More long-lasting, prominent for the world to see.

“How ‘bout it, baby? Think you can for a quick round before we let you go?” Max asked. They could've convinced you to stay in bed longer if not for the candies you had promised to buy before the last minute in the afternoon for trick-or-treaters tonight.

“We'll take good care of you.” Paddy added, as they always did.

You pleaded with the two with a look that was to die for and it wouldn't take long for them to act upon your request, leaving you in your pretty undies, almost tearing off your sleepwear when they removed the pesky article.

Max was eager to lay on his back, encouraging you to move back a little and position your ass just above his face, making you face Paddy, whose pants were off, teasing you by fondling his prominent tent with a smug smile.

You weren't sure whether to focus on him or Max’s cock standing tall each time you looked down, awaiting your soft lips and its careful licks.

You jumped at Max’s playful slaps and massages of your ass, prompting Paddy to coo as he neared until his shins touched the bed.

“Playin’ a lil’ rough, isn’t he, baby?” He cradled your jaw, almost condescendingly mimicking your parted lips as Max licked you through the flimsy panties. He gently led your head by the chin to his bulge and sighed in contentment, “Yeah, that’s my good girl.”

“My good girl.” Max grunted, biting his lips upon moving your panties to the side before licking a big stripe along your pussylips like a man starved, even more so when he couldn’t help but spank you three more consecutive times, downright suffocating himself when trapped your thighs around his head.

“Max…” You cried into Paddy’s tented pants, nuzzling him like it would calm Max down, but they couldn’t blame you, knowing your mind was already mush.

You could already imagine the familiar beard burns decorating your inner thighs.

Paddy pouted, “Baby, ‘m’feeling a lil’ lonely,” Brushing your bottom lip with his thumb, he stared at your through lidded eyes, “You know what t’do, yeah?”

You did, you always did.

Keeping your eyes on him, you mouthed along the girth of him, leaving little trails of drool because ‘there is nothing sexier than our sweet girl making a mess out of them’. Their words, not yours.

Giving a low growl, he slid his sweatpants down for you, “That’s it.”

He didn’t bother putting on boxers, already anticipating such ‘morning routine’ if he and Max were going to make it until the evening before they could get their hands on you again.

Of course, that didn’t mean they’d play nice behind closed doors when the trick-or-treaters weren’t around.

His pants dropped to the floor with a soft thud, his hard cock ached for you if the subtle twitches were anything to go by.

But Max, still eating you out and practically leaving marks on your behind, shoved his tongue into you just a tad deeper, reminding you that he, too, needed you.

You could only let a little glob of drool drip onto Max’s cock, then slowly wrapped your fingers around it before sliding your hand down to the base. Paddy clenched his jaw, greedy for the same treatment when Max bucked into your hand. He loosened just a tad bit when you finally leaned in, taking a small, cautious lick at the tip of him.

Somehow, somehow, Max knew your teasing behaviour and brought his palm down on your already sensitive rear. You weren’t sure how he wasn’t begging for air at this point the more your thighs tightened around him—if only you knew how much he wouldn’t mind dying that way.

Paddy tutted in disapproval, gently tapping his cock on your cheek, “Not very nice of you.”

“Think she deserves a little punishment?” Max spoke against your cunt, spreading your cheeks and downright spitting at your hole.

“I’m sure she can handle a few,” Paddy responded, eyes rolling back when you moaned around him the more he pushed himself into your mouth. He continued through gritted teeth, “And then, we’ll give her everything. Just like she deserves.”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» a/n: this was initially a standalone fic for Max but then I was like mmm OMG what about with Max and Negan but then... I also wanted to write for Paddy, so... yeah ;; gorgeous divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

137 notes · View notes