#this and daddy would you like some sausage

[tehshelaroxx]

Me at 3 am:

[iluvjesus666]

[7ringsinhand]

Heartbreaking: woman who can’t control her vocal stims is now quoting freddy got fingered constantly

update: now that I’ve seen the movie I am now quoting the hooves line and the backwards man bit. Help me.

[wtfaniii]

Req for a Hwang In-ho os with kind off parenting scenarios like what if by mistake a toddler was brought to the games and he ends up in the caretaker roll (and yes he gives off daddy vibes ya know !)

God I loved this one, I feel like him would be great protector.

¿What if...? a little girl entered the games

little girl x Hwang In-ho father figure

Summary: Your eleven-year-old self is taken to an island believing you'll be a little entertainment.

Warning: In-ho may not be that attached to the original character ¡this man will be a big hug bear here!

Note: I do my best to answer the rest of the requests, thanks for your support!! And if I make a mistake I accept constructive criticism!

You lived alone on the street, you didn't know anything about your parents and every day was a struggle until one day you saw a man in a suit playing Ddakji with another person, when you saw that he gave money as a reward if you beat him quickly went to him.

At first he ignored you and walked away with you right behind him but you were so persistent that after walking a few blocks he finally turned to with a raised eyebrow.

You played with him and won every time, received money and a card to continue playing for more money.

You didn't owe anything, he knew that, but he thought he was doing you a favor by opening the doors to the slaughterhouse, maybe it would be better than you continuing to sleep in a box and eat leftover food.

"She's going to die anyway, I'm just making her suffering shorter" thought the salesman.

What he didn't know is that a certain man would take a liking to you as soon as he saw you.

You played "green light, red light" and managed to get through without a scratch, you were scared but Gi-hun made sure to keep you safe during this game.

—¡They are bastards! ¡They brought a little girl for the love of God! —456 screamed to the sky as the ceiling loomed over their heads, the other player 390 covered your eyes so you wouldn't see all the carnage they left behind in the first round.

Meanwhile... The Front Man's firm footsteps echoed through the hallways as he made his way to the control booth, when he arrived, he spoke in a voice that chilled the blood of his employees.

—¿Who let her in?

He knew the salesman, he knew the heartless idiot had no empathy for even a puppy but the fact that these guards had dressed you up and put you in that arena gave him a headache.

When he was given the number of the one who allowed you to get into the first game, he personally took it upon himself to put a bullet in him head.

He thought about getting you out immediately but considering the fact that he would also be infiltrating there and how after that massacre you were playing and talking non-stop with 390 and 456 as if nothing had happened, he let you continue but this time under his personal supervision.

It was quite easy for him to infiltrate and join Gi-hun, keeping his enemy close would be very useful but he also kept his eyes on you.

—Eat this too —In-ho handed you his can of food when he saw how quickly you had finished the rice, sausage and egg.

—No thanks —The smile you gave him almost made his hard heart beat—You should eat too, but if you insist so much you can give me the sausages.

You finished with a smile, to which he returned the gesture and gave you part of his portion.

During the night he took care of covering you with the blanket so that you wouldn't be cold and of laying you in bed next to him in case you had a nightmare, but to his surprise and that of your new friends, you slept all night without interruptions.

When it was time to go to the next game, In-ho kept you by his side so that you would be on his team with Gi-hun.

His team made it to the end so he wasn't worried if they lost, if they did neither you nor he would have died and there would be no witnesses.

He would break just a few of the rules to stay you alive.

Every time some players were eliminated, you covered your ears and closed your eyes tightly, something that moved him so much that he also distracted you by talking to you every time the guards removed the bodies to prevent you from seeing all that show of death and blood.

After the second vote Jung-bae was sorry for choosing the circle so he apologized to you and Jun-hee.

—It's okay, as long as we're together ¡we'll win! —You said with a beaming smile as Young-il ruffled your hair in excitement.

The day seemed long in there, but you didn't get bored with Young-il. He told you some children's stories and played with you.

However, when you were playing with the empty milk carton you accidentally hit the back of player 100.

—Oops, sorry sir —You said politely, reaching out to grab the little box from the floor, but before you could do so, he stepped on it hard, stepping on two of your fingers of the hand in the process.

Your cry of pain caught In-ho's immediate attention, he cut off the conversation he was having with Gi-hun and went to you.

—¡¿How is it possible that you are still alive?! ¡You are just a little brat!

In-ho effortlessly picked you and hug against his chest.

With just one look he silenced the man, it wasn't a warning, it was a threat, that man had hurt you and he would make sure him paid the consequences, not now, but he would definitely suffer.

—I told you not to stray too far from me ���He said as he walked back to his place with the others.

You just nodded still with tears in your eyes and hugging him by the neck, he left you on the bed and took your hand to analyze the damage.

—You didn't hurt yourself much, you'll be better after pouring cold water on yourself in the bath —He said trying to calm you down, he dried the tears from your cheeks and kissed your forehead, it was an act he did on impulse and it even surprised himself a little.

"You'll be a great father" Gi-hun told him when you were sleeping, which was strange, the last time he heard that was when his wife talked to him about starting a family, he silently thanked but deep down he felt different, as if you had been able to reach the light inside him, a light he had considered extinct.

During the third game he stayed close to you, every time it was time to team up and run into a room he made sure to hold your hand.

Until the time came to form a team of four, there were many in his group so you and he separated, the counter reached zero and In-ho managed to get you two into a room and close it.

—But we're missing two —You said somewhat nervously and scared while the shots rang out from outside.

—Listen to me —In-ho knelt in front of you and held your shoulders —I need you to keep this a secret,

He gave a quick glance to the camera in the corner, they weren't going to kill them even if they cheated but now he needed no one else to find out about this.

—But it's cheating... —You murmured, confused and still a little scared.

—Promise me you won't say anything about this, not to Gi-hun or the others.

You nodded silently, you didn't say anything and that, without knowing it, would cost the lives of some of your friends.

That same night, there was a rebellion organized by 456.

You wanted to go with them, believing yourself strong enough to help them, but Young-il opposed it.

—I'm not going to let you come with us—He said firmly as he took you by the hand and led you back to the rest of the players —It's dangerous, you will stay with them until we return.

He left you in the hands of 149, 222 and 007, the older woman was the one who had the most empathy for you so In-ho knew you would be fine until his guards came for you.

[...]

After returning to his place as Front man, he sent a group of guards to control the rest of the players in the room and get you out of there.

"Player 398, you must come with us" when you heard that and saw the guards coming towards you, you hugged 149, you were scared, after all you were a girl and didn't know what was happening.

Geum-ja also held you tightly to prevent you from being taken away but it was useless, In-ho was surprised by how you won the affection of her, Jun-hee, Hyun-ju and Myung-gi to the point that they were able to stand up to his soldiers.

As were led through the colorful hallways you bit the hand of one of the pink guards and kicked the other to escape, you had spent entire short life on the streets so escaping was one of your skills, the first thing you did was call some of your friends, including Young-il.

But there came a time when you started to cry, believing that they were dead and you sat on the ground, you remained there scared and worried until once again two guards found you, this time accompanied by a man dressed in grey and a black mask.

When you looked up, he could see your watery eyes and red nose, which made his affection for you grow and not caring about his own rules about secret identity, he took off his mask and crouched down to be at your level.

He didn't know what to say to you, how to handle this situation in which you were so confused and overwhelmed, so when you hugged him he just returned the gesture and got up from the floor with you.

—It's okay, you're going to be fine —He whispered to you calmly while caressing your hair.

In-ho didn't know anything about being a father, he hadn't thought about being one since his wife died but he would do everything possible to take care of you from now on, for a few seconds he thought about sending you with Jun-ho and his mother but he preferred not to, besides, you didn't want to leave him alone for even a second.

He would teach you how to use weapons and defend yourself, he would also try to get you to accompany him everywhere or remain under surveillance, you quickly became a weakness so the safer you are the safer he will be too.

He didn't explain everything to you in detail, much less what role he had in these games, he believed that you wouldn't forgive him so the less you know the better for you, but you weren't stupid, the life you had before meeting him made you analyze things better than many others.

You knew that whatever his job was, it wasn't good but you didn't judge him or talk to him.

To you, he was like your father and that would make you defend him tooth and nail from anyone who wanted to hurt him.

In case Gi-hun ends the games, Jun-ho would probably take responsibility for you and let you visit In-ho in prison, (when you're older, you'll probably help him escape and move to another continent).

But if not, you will probably be given the front man position when you grow up because you are trained enough by this man, you will be calculating and probably a younger, female version of him.

N/A: Ok, I hope this is what you expected and thanks for this idea!

I honestly think In-ho wouldn't canonically take responsibility for a child, maybe he would protect sometimes like 222, but I don't think he would care afterwards, that man is beyond help 😭

[peachypixelpop]

Paws and Claws

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x curvyf!reader | smut | 6k

SUMMARY | Your dog Bert accidentally knocks up Dogpool which leads to a meet cute with an angry Wolverine.

WARNINGS | Meet cute (but make it intense) kinda enemies, to friends to lovers, mutual yearning, daddy wolverine, flirting, mutual yearning, immature humour, oral sex, swallowing, fingering, piv s*x, what refractory period? we die like men, You know he talks you through it.

RATING | Explicit

NOTES | Okay so this is my first ever Tumblr spicy oneshot, soooo thoughts and feedback are so welcome. Enjoy my loves <3

���You,” he snarled, teeth bared as he thrust what could only be described as a pot-bellied gremlin toward your face.

“Me?” you splutter, glancing between the feral-looking man in front of you and the small creature he held in his hands.

“Yeah! You’ve got some audacity coming back here after what you’ve done,” he spat, gesturing around the park while transferring the small creature to his large bicep, cradling it against his impressively muscular chest.

The ‘here’ he was referring to was your local park, currently hosting its weekly ‘Social Snout Society.’ You had moved for work, and the event seemed like a great way to meet fellow dog owners.

And in a way, it had. You’d made friends with.  many of the regulars and had grown your social circle considerably. There was the sweet young couple who kept trying to set you up with their ‘friend,’ and the lovely old lady, Barbara, who always offered your dog peanut butter-filled treats.

But then, there was him. The one person you couldn’t quite figure out. He was always standing off to the side, averse to socialising, with his thick arms crossed over a plaid shirt as he watched the dogs run around. There was something about his presence—an air of brooding mystery—that made it hard to ignore him. You’d caught yourself staring a few times—how could you not? He was handsome in a rugged, roguish Clint Eastwood sort of way. But more than that, he was The Wolverine. Yes, that Wolverine—the legendary superhero from the X-Men who fought bad guys and saved the world.

Each time he caught you looking, you quickly glanced away, your face turning a brilliant shade of red as you desperately tried to distract yourself by calling your dog over.

You had pegged him as the type who would own a large, intimidating dog—a mastiff, a rottweiler, or maybe a German shepherd. So, when the social was winding down and you saw a tiny Pugese bounding over to him, you couldn’t believe your eyes. The little dog, all stubby legs and wrinkled face, leaped into the gruff man’s arms with surprising agility. Its long tongue lolled out, swiping affectionately at his mutton chops as he caught it effortlessly. The sight of this fierce-looking man cradling such a small, adorable dog was almost too much to process, and you had to stifle a laugh at the unexpected contrast.

“What’s going on?” you finally manage to ask, your voice shaky as you look at the small creature nestled against his chest.

“Listen, bub, this clueless act ain’t gonna cut it with me. You can see what you’ve done,” he said, his voice rough like gravel. He adjusted his grip on the little dog, gently supporting its neck and bum as he sat it up slightly. You leaned in, taking in the wide brown eyes that blinked up at you as the dog gave a quick yawn, shifting in the man’s arms. Its little red leather outfit was twisted slightly around its body, looking snugger than usual.

“This—” he growled, nodding toward the Pugese, “is Mary. And thanks to your sausage, she’s gonna have puppies!”

You blink in confusion. “My—wait, Bert? You’re talking about Bert?”

“Who else?” he huffed, his intense gaze locking onto yours. “Your daschund knocked up my dog!”

As if summoned, Bert appeared between your legs, huffing loudly from his sprint back from Barbara, a smudge of peanut butter on his lips. He looked up at you and the angry man with a proud expression, oblivious to the chaos he had caused.

“Bert?” you repeat incredulously, trying to process the information. “But… but I swear he’s been fixed!”

“Yeah, well, he figured it out somehow,” the man muttered, still fuming. “Found out today at the vet—Mary’s knocked up, thanks to him”

You glanced at the small dog again and noticed how her little pot belly did seem more rotund than usual. She was happily wagging her curly tail, completely unaware of the drama unfolding.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, covering your mouth as you look at the little Pugese. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea…”

“Neither did I!” he retorts, though his tone softens slightly as he sees the genuine surprise and concern in your eyes. “I mean, Mary is the last dog I’d expect to end up pregnant. She’s never even shown interest in other dogs.”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, the absurdity of the situation dawning on you. Of all the things I expected today, getting chewed out by a grumpy, muscle-bound guy over a pregnant dog wasn’t one of them.

“How do you even know it was him? There are hundreds of dogs around here”

He huffed as if appalled you would even ask that.

“How could it not be him, I’ve seen him - sniffing around her” he spat. 

You side eyed Bert who had the audacity to flop on his back for a belly rub. It sounded exactly like him to your dismay. 

“I honestly don’t know what to say except sorry” you finally manage wincing as Bert let out a long whine at being ignored. 

“Just… keep an eye on your little Casanova,” he grumbled, rubbing Mary’s head. “We’re in this together now, whether we like it or not.”

“I really am sorry,” you say, reaching down to scoop up Bert, who was sniffing at the man’s shoes. Holding his little sausage body in one hand, you thrust a hand forward toward the man. “I’m Y/N. You’ve met Bert.”

The man eyed your hand for a second before clasping it in his own large one. “Logan,” he spoke, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“Listen, don’t worry. Bert won’t be an absent father. I’ll step up—I mean, he’ll step up—well, I suppose we’ll be there for you.”

“Uh huh.”

“And Mary, of course. Listen, I’m a girls’ girl, and the last thing I would do is—” You freeze as you realise you’re still gripping Logan’s large hand and shaking it like you’re sealing the most important business deal of your life. Quickly releasing his hand as if it were on fire, you take a step back and stare at the grass in embarrassment.

Taking a deep breath, you looked up and tried not to get lost in his warm brown eyes. “Listen, can you give me your number or something so you can keep me updated?” You asked, shifting Bert on your arm.

“I don’t have a phone,” he said awkwardly.

“Right,” you responded, feeling mortified. It seemed clear he wanted nothing to do with you.

“Okay, well, I’ll be around if you need me,” you said dejectedly. With twenty minutes left of the social, you just wanted to escape the awkwardness.

Before he could respond, you turned away and left the park, your ears burning red with embarrassment as Bert gently gnawed at your fingers.

You didn’t see Logan again, a couple of weeks had passed since the man had confronted you about Bert’s promiscuous behaviour so you were surprised to find a bright pink envelope on your floor when you arrived home from work.

🎉🐶 PAW-TEE ALERT! 🐶🎉 Hey there, Fur-tastic Friends! Guess what time it is? It’s time to celebrate the most adorable, waggliest, and undeniably cutest thing in the universe—PUPPIES! Yep, you heard me right. Wade is throwing the ultimate Puppy Shower and you’re on the VIP list. 🎉 Come dressed in your finest puppy-themed attire or don’t—either way, you’ll look fetching! 🐾 Please bring a treat for Mary, our star-of-the-show, and no, we’re not talking about your grandma’s fruitcake. 🍪 If you can’t make it, don’t worry. I’ll be sure to send you a selfie of me and Logan covered in puppy slobber. 📸 RSVP: Hit me up with your best bark or, if you’re feeling fancy, just send a text to [Contact Information Here]. Either way, let me know if you’re coming so we can prepare an appropriately excessive amount of dog treats and possibly a few questionable dog costumes. Pawsitively Excited, Wade & Logan xoxoxo P.S. If you think this is just a ploy to get free snacks and a chance to see Logan out of his grumpy shell, you might be right. But you’ll also be helping celebrate the imminent arrival of tiny, adorable puppies!

“Wade?” You murmured, running your finger over the red glitter hearts on the page. It made sense why Logan wasn’t single; he was undeniably gorgeous. But your brows furrowed as you tried to recall whether you had given Logan your address.

Glancing at Bert, who was sitting in front of his empty bowl and giving you a reproachful look, you sighed. “Time to step up, buddy.” You spoke to Bert, who huffed slightly in agreement and continued to paw at his dish.

When you arrived at Wade’s flat, you were surprised to realise it was only a few streets away from your own place. Bert whined softly as you lingered outside the door, feeling the weight of nerves flutter in your stomach. You could hear voices and music drifting from inside. Glancing down at your dog, you took a deep breath before rapping your knuckles on the door.

The door swung open almost immediately, revealing a tall man covered in a patchwork of scars. His expression was animated, and before you could say anything, he flashed a blinding smile.

“You must be Y/N! Come in, come in!” he greeted, his voice brimming with enthusiasm as he ushered you and Bert inside.

“Thanks,” you replied, stepping into the cosy flat and carefully setting your wet umbrella near a pile of shoes and coats. Wade gave you a friendly hug as you shrugged off your raincoat, leaving you momentarily startled.

“It’s great to finally meet you!” Wade said, his tone warm and welcoming.

“You too! And, er, sorry again about the whole… getting your dog pregnant,” you replied, feeling a bit awkward.

“Pshhh, don’t worry about it! Our little Puppins is 90% G-spot, it was bound to happen sooner or later, the little tease,” Wade jokes, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Oh-oka—wait, Puppins?” you asked, trying to keep up with the rapid-fire conversation.

“Yeah, Mary—Mary Puppins,” Wade clarified with a wide grin, clearly proud of the clever name.

“Ah, now Bert’s name is starting to make sense,” you mused, the pieces finally clicking together in your mind.

“Yep, it’s very on-brand,” Wade replied, a mischievous glint in his eye as he let his thoughts wander for a moment. He shook his head slightly, snapping back to the present. “Anyway,” he continued, his tone shifting to one of exaggerated seriousness, “where is our little absent father?”

You glanced down, spotting Bert near your feet, his little tail wagging as if he understood that the spotlight was now on him. Bending down, you scooped up the dachshund, who was proudly sporting a tiny yellow bow tie, and handed him over to Wade.

“There he is!” Wade cooed, holding Bert up like a prized possession. “Someone went out for milk these past two weeks, huh? Poor Wolvy has been looking for your mama,” he added with a wink, turning to lead you both into the lounge.

Wade marched into the room, lifting Bert high above his head in a dramatic gesture. “Everyone, I present to you the baby daddy!” Wade declared with flair, holding Bert up like Simba in The Lion King. The room erupted in laughter and applause as the small group gathered around, showering Bert with attention and affection.

But then your attention shifted to your usual target, who was brooding near the kitchen, lingering near some red velvet cupcakes. You moved closer, your heart pounding as you took in his form that seemed to take up most of the kitchen.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you asked, reaching past him to grab a cupcake. His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, searching your face for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah, alright. How’s it going with you?” he replied, his voice low and gravelly.

“Good, great actually. Bert hasn’t gotten any other dogs pregnant,” you joked lightly, trying to ease the tension.

“That’s good,” Logan replied, his tone a bit flat.

“You know what blokes are like, only thinking of one thing,” you blurted out without thinking, immediately regretting the words as they left your mouth.

Logan raised a brow at you, his expression unreadable. “That right?”

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. To avoid saying anything else, you took a bite out of the cupcake. The texture was unexpectedly tough, and you found yourself chewing more vigorously than you’d anticipated.

Logan’s gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes narrowing slightly. After a moment, he reached out and gently wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“There was some icing,” he murmured, his voice suddenly softer, more of a rumble than his usual biting growl. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as your heart pounded in your chest.

He held your gaze a moment longer, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You know, that’s for dogs, right?”

Your eyes widened in horror as you looked down at the half-eaten cupcake in your hand. “What?”

“Wade’s idea of a joke,” Logan explained, clearly amused by your reaction. “He put them out with the regular food to mess with people.”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment. “Oh my god…” you whispered, just before gagging as the aftertaste of beef hit your tongue. “Oh no, that’s disgusting!” you spluttered, wiping your mouth furiously as you tried to rid yourself of the flavour.

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first one he’s tricked,” Logan said, his smirk widening into a grin. You were momentarily taken aback, surprised by how the smile transformed his face, softening his usual stern expression and making him look years younger. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation dawning on you as your cheeks flushed a tomato hue. 

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first one he’s tricked,” Logan said, his smirk widening into a genuine grin that took you by surprise. The smile lit up his face, making him look years younger, almost boyish.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting you as your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. “Well, I guess it’s fitting. Bert and I are just full of surprises.”

“Seems that way,” Logan replied, his tone now more relaxed, a subtle hint of flirtation lacing his words. His eyes held yours, and for a brief moment, the air between you felt charged with an unspoken connection.

“Maybe you’re not so bad after all,” he grumbled, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

“Maybe not,” you teased back, feeling a nervous flutter in your stomach. The intensity of his gaze made it hard to think straight, and you wondered if he could hear your heart racing.

Logan’s nostrils flared slightly, as if he were picking up on the tension between you. But before anything more could happen, Wade’s voice broke the moment.

“Ooh, this looks all cosy, doesn’t it, Wolvy?” Wade chirped smugly, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he took in the lack of space between the two of you.

“Fuck off,” Logan muttered, his jaw clenching as he shot Wade a glare.

“Spicy, this one isn’t he? Muy, muy caliente,” Wade ribbed, his grin widening as he revelled in the discomfort he was causing.

You glanced down to see Logan clenching his whisky glass tightly, a small hairline crack forming in the glass, his expression one of barely contained irritation.

“Could you pass me the little tux behind you?” Wade asked, clearly enjoying himself.

Logan turned around quickly, grabbed the small tux, and tossed it at the scarred man without a word.

“Thanks, Peanut,” Wade winked before chasing after Bert with a mischievous glint in his eye.

As you watched Wade prance off, you noticed the pained expression on Logan’s face. Trying to smooth over the situation, you decided to make conversation.

“So… how long have you two been together?” you asked, your tone light but genuinely curious.

Logan, who had just taken a swig of his whisky nearly choked, sputtering slightly as he wiped away the spilled liquid with a large hand. “What?” he spat, clearly taken aback.

You blinked slowly, suddenly feeling a wave of embarrassment. “Oh, sorry—I shouldn’t have presumed.”

“Listen, we aren’t together,” Logan clarified, his voice firm, though there was a hint of something more beneath the surface.

“Oh… right,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “Sorry, I just… assumed.”

Logan shook his head, exhaling out of his nose “We just live together while I look for a new place.”

“Got it,” you replied, feeling both relieved and a little silly for jumping to conclusions. The tension between you eased slightly, though you couldn’t help but notice the way Logan’s gaze lingered on you just a moment longer than necessary.

You were soon swept into a whirlwind of party games organised by Wade, each one more spirited than the last. During the festivities, you met their third roommate, known as "Blind Al," though you quickly insisted on simply calling her Al. You chatted to their other friends too, laughing at some of their wild stories until your stomach got a stitch and your jaw ached. 

As the evening wore on, the sky outside grew darker and darker, the stars twinkling faintly in the chilly night air. Feeling the onset of sleepiness, you decided it was time to head home. Logan, having observed your growing fatigue, volunteered to walk you back. At first, you insisted it wasn’t necessary, pointing out that you had Bert with you. 

Logan, however, let out a dismissive snort at the sight of your chunky dachshund, who was currently curled up and snoozing with half his face buried in a muffin. “Seriously, you’re letting this guy be your bodyguard?” Logan remarked with a smirk.

You sighed at the sight of Bert’s icing coated snout and, realising Logan’s offer was genuine, you conceded. “Alright, if you insist.”

With that, you both left the warm, lively flat, stepping out into the crisp night air as Logan guided you through the quiet streets toward your home. The walk was peaceful, the cool night air brushing against your skin, and the occasional rustle of leaves the only sound in the quiet neighbourhood.

When you reached your door, you lingered for a moment, cracking it open just enough for Bert to scamper inside and head straight to his bed, exhausted from the day’s excitement.

“Thanks for today. I really like your friends,” you said with a grin, noticing the unexpected softness in Logan’s eyes—a stark contrast to your initial meeting.

“Just my friends, huh?” he teased, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“Oh yes, I suppose Mary is lovely too,” you teased back, looking up at him with a soft smile. The warmth between you was palpable, his large frame nearly filling your small hallway, making the space feel even more intimate. You could hear the faint buzz of your neighbours’ TV through the walls, a reminder of the world continuing on around you, yet in this moment, it felt like it was just the two of you.

Logan’s gaze held yours for a beat longer, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a fleeting second before he straightened up, breaking the tension just enough to breathe again. “Get some rest,” he murmured, his voice low and slightly rough. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you. “Goodnight, Logan.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, his voice softening.

As he turned to leave, you felt a sudden tug in your chest, an impulse you couldn't quite suppress. Before you knew it, you were calling out to him.

"Logan, wait."

He stopped and turned back to face you, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the hallway. The air between you crackled with an unspoken tension that had been simmering all evening. You took a small step closer, closing the gap between you.

"Today was... nice," you said, your voice almost a whisper now, "and I don’t really want it to end."

Logan’s eyes darkened slightly, the playful banter from earlier replaced by something much more intense. He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming in the small space of your hallway. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of him—something warm and earthy—filling your senses.

“It doesn’t have to,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your breath hitched as you looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this charged moment. Without thinking, you reached up, your fingers lightly brushing against the stubble on his jaw. Logan’s breath caught at the touch, his eyes never leaving yours.

In that instant, the tension snapped. Logan closed the distance between you in one swift motion, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both fierce and tender, as if he had been holding himself back. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, your heart racing as you responded with equal fervour.

The world around you blurred as all your senses focused on the feel of his lips, the strength of his arms around you, the roughness of his stubble against your skin. It was intoxicating, the way he kissed you—like he was claiming you, yet with a surprising gentleness that made your knees go weak.

You felt the arms round your waist pull you closer to his solid body, causing you to whimper and him to slip a tongue gently into your mouth.

You broke apart just enough to catch your breath, your foreheads resting against each other as you both struggled to steady your breathing. Logan’s hands were still on your waist, his grip firm yet comforting, grounding you as you struggled to level your breathing. 

“Come inside,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your hand slid from his jaw to rest against his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

Logan hesitated for a brief moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to read what you truly wanted. Whatever he saw there must have reassured him because he nodded slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint, almost teasing smile.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’d like that.”

You stepped back, pulling him gently inside your flat, closing the door behind him. The click of the lock sounded louder in the quiet of your home. The cosiness of the small space wrapped around you both, the warmth and intimacy of it only heightening the tension that hummed between you.

You took his hand, guiding him deeper into the flat, past the soft glowing lamps outside and Bert who was already snoring softly in his bed, oblivious to the charged atmosphere filling the room.

Logan’s gaze was intense as he followed you, his hand warm and reassuring in yours. When you reached your bedroom, you turned to face him again, your heart in your throat as you searched his face, wondering if this was really happening.

Logan’s hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that sent another shiver through you. He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss, slower this time, savouring each moment. Your arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer, the feel of his solid frame against yours grounding you even as your head spun.

Without breaking the kiss, Logan’s hands slid from your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him as he walked you backward toward the bed. You went willingly, your heart pounding with anticipation and need, the heat between you building with every passing second.

When the back of your knees hit the mattress, you sank down onto the duvet, pulling Logan with you. He followed without hesitation, his body covering yours as you both tumbled onto the bed, the kiss never breaking, never slowing.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, marvelling at the feel of him—so strong, so present, so overwhelmingly real. Logan groaned softly against your lips, the sound sending a thrill through you as his hands began to explore, tracing the curves of your body as if committing them to memory.

You arched into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips as he kissed his way down your neck, his stubble grazing your skin in the most delicious way. The sensation was electrifying as you gulped back another whimper as his tongue slipped back into your mouth, tasting the whisky on his lips. 

As he slowly begins to undress you, You feel an overwhelming sense of vulnerability as he unzips your last article of clothing and pulls your skirt down. Sensing you freezing he stops.

“Hey, where did you go bub?” He whispers, pulling back to meet your eyes.

“It’s just, er, been a while and I've put on a bit of weight recently” you mumbled, unable to hold his gaze. 

Logan paused, his hands gently resting on your hips as he looked at you, his brow furrowing with concern. The intensity of the moment faded slightly as he took in your words, understanding the vulnerability you were feeling. He tilted your chin up softly, urging you to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice filled with a tenderness that surprised you. “You don’t have to hide from me. You’re beautiful, just the way you are.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, the sincerity in his words sinking in. It had been so long since anyone had looked at you like this, let alone made you feel beautiful. Logan’s eyes were full of warmth, no judgement or hesitation, just blown pupils and an open gaze that made your chest tighten and your panties soak. 

He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch feather-light. “You’re perfect, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble that resonated through you. “Every inch of you.”

His words were like a balm, easing the anxiety that had been bubbling beneath the surface. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the way his hands held you with such care.

“Logan…” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, grounding you in the moment. You felt the tension in your body slowly melt away, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest, as your heart started to race with excitement rather than fear. 

You took a deep breath, letting the anxiety flow out with the exhale, and nodded slightly. “I just… it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way.”

Logan’s expression softened further, his gaze never leaving yours. “I get that,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “But you don’t have to worry, not with me. I’m here, and I see you. All of you.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, with a tenderness that made your heart ache. His hands moved with reverence, as if he was rediscovering every part of you, appreciating each touch, each breath, as if it was a gift.

Logan pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression one of quiet reverence. “You’re beautiful, Y/N, but if you want to stop I will respect that, what do you want?”

“No I want this, I want you Logan.” You whispered, biting your lip. 

He leaned forward to kiss you again before pulling away your skirt and panties. He groaned at the sight of you glistening and swollen. “God you are incredible sweetheart” he groaned before leaning down.

“I wha-” You started before cutting yourself with a loud moan as he swiped over your clit. 

He drank from you like a man without water. The silence of the room is broken by the sound of his slurping and suckling. “I’ve been smelling you for weeks and you taste even sweeter than I imagined’ he whispered against you. 

Unable to answer him you continued to pant as he greedily ate you out. Grunting like an animal, his oral could only be described as animalistic as he pushed you towards that high. It was only when he added two thick fingers did you begin to wail as the stimulation overwhelmed you.

“That’s it sweetheart, I know, it’s okay, let go for me” He grunted as he continued to eat you out, the prickle of his beard between your thick thighs adding to the sensations as he rubbed his face into your pussy. 

When he crooked his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion that hit that sweet spongy spot inside of you. Something snaps inside as you whimper his name and come panting and wiggling on his face. 

As you came back to yourself you let out a whimper as you saw him smugly looking at you from between your thighs. Slowly rubbing you as you came down from your high. 

Standing up, you have to resist the urge to whine at the lack of fullness you feel and spy him suck his glistening fingers.  As Logan swiftly removed his clothes, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him—his body was beautiful, all toned muscle and solid mass, every muscle defined and glistening under the soft light. The intensity in his eyes never wavered as he tossed his shirt aside, revealing the expanse of his toned chest.

He moved with purpose, crawling onto the bed towards you like a predator closing in on its prey, his movements slow and deliberate, each one making your pulse race. The heat between you was palpable, electrifying the air as he inched closer, his gaze locking onto yours with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, the sheer magnetism of his presence drawing you in, making you feel both excited and slightly nervous. 

When he finally reached you, his large hands framed your face as he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both fierce and gentle, full of the passion you had felt building between you all night.

“I’m on the pill” You blurted out as he pulled back and you watched as his pupils dilated wider. 

“You sure bub?” he questioned.

You nodded fervently as a surge of confidence rushed through you and you pushed him back onto the mattress so you could climb on top of him. It really was unfair, he made it look so natural as he laid back on the duvet like a modern day adonis. 

Logan cursed when you sank on top of him. It took a few moments for you to be fully seated. When you were, you took a slow and deep breath as you felt his entire length inside of you. You had never felt so full. 

You wiggled your hips slightly as you tested the length of him inside you and his hands shot out to grip your soft hips. 

“Just a second darlin’” He growled, his face looked strained as he held you in place. 

“If i’m too heavy we can turn over” You spoke shyly conscious of how he seemed to grip tightly at your hips.

He chuckled as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth “No, No, It’s not that darlin’ you’re just so tight” He muttered before starting to thrust at you. 

You bit back a moan as you rode him. Large hands guiding you up and down as you bounced up and down, his cock rearranging your insides to make room for him, all of him. 

Leaning forward he took one of your nipples in his mouth and gently nibbled and sucked on it before moving on to the other one. You were unsure of how much time had passed but you soon found yourself coming on his cock. 

Unlatching from your nipple his hands went to your ass, taking over moving you as you came down from your high. “That’s it, such a good girl taking all of me” he rumbled before flipping you over and pushing your knees back to your chest. 

In this position he felt even deeper inside of you, stretching you out in the most delicious way and nudging the spongy wall of your cervix. “Logan” you whimpered as you pulled him forward to kiss his lips as he lazily thrust into you stoking the fire in your stomach again. Wrapping your ankles above the curve of his ass you dreamily sighed into his mouth as the taste of whisky hit your tongue. 

Your skin was damp with sweat as you clung to him desperately as his thrusts built up again. 

“Think you can give me another one darlin’?” he questioned after he broke away from your lips and started kissing down your neck nibbling as he went. 

At this point you were on fire, legs numb and eyes rolling back into your head. You felt like he had taken everything from you, yet, as his fingers rubbed over your clit a spark shot through you as you keenly lifted your hips upwards to his barraging cock. 

“That’s a good girl, gonna fill you up” He grunted, taking the hand that wasn’t rubbing your clit and pressing down on your abdomen to make the space inside you even tighter. 

“Logan, I’m close” You whimpered at the stimulation. The sounds of his animalistic grunts and squelching filled the quiet room. 

“That’s it darlin’ come all over this cock for me” he growled as you felt the air get stolen from your lungs as you spasmed around him, muscles pulling him in as deep as possible. Hips stuttering, Logan followed you into your release pumping you full of his thick spend. You could feel the heat of it filling you up as some of it leaked out of the sides of his cock, your body simply incapable of holding the sheer volume of it. 

Rolling to the side he pulled you with him to lay on his chest as his cock stayed nestled deep inside of you twitching occasionally with the odd spurt, not quite finished filling you up. You hummed gently against his chest as his arms circled around you, warm and safe. 

"You okay, bub?" Logan grumbled softly, his deep voice carrying a warmth that sent a wave of comfort through you. He gently smoothed a few stray strands of hair back from your face, his touch tender against your skin. You sighed happily, nestling into the solid warmth of his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

Tilting your head up to meet his gaze, you couldn’t help but smile. “I’m so glad Bert knocked up your dog,” you said, a playful grin tugging at your lips. The absurdity of the situation, which had once felt mad, now seemed like the best thing that had ever happened.

Logan’s eyes softened as he looked down at you, a chuckle rumbling through his chest. "Yeah, who would've thought?" he replied, the corners of his mouth lifting in a rare, genuine smile. He reached down, brushing a thumb gently across your cheek. 

You shifted slightly and froze. Eyes widening in realisation at what was happening.  

“Logan…are you still?”

“Let’s hit number four” he growled.

[menagerofmischief]

Can I please have cold stuffed cherry tomatoes, sausage rolls, tomato soup and kebab with boba, rose and mocha coffee served by Lando Norris? And a little dessert too 💕 my favorite track is Zandvoort

stuffed cherry tomatoes sugar daddy cold appetizer rough sex sausage rolls "I'll make it fit" tomato soup "Running away from my dick? I don't think so" kebab "Look at that, my cock is splitting you in half" boba anal rose spanking mocha coffee degradation dessert aftercare + matcha toys

Lando Norris x sugar baby!girlfriend!reader

TW: unprotected sex, cumming inside, PiA, anal, fingering, toys , size kink

WC: 2.1k

A/N: sugar daddy lando implied but not specified. also anal is like my biggest opp so I hope this doesn't suck

I stared at the track ahead of me from the comfortable space of McLaren’s hospitality. Everyone was quiet from the moment the last lap started, waiting for the result. I twisted the Cartier love bracelet Lando bought me a few weeks ago, insisting I needed to match with him, as I watched the race.

But my thoughts were somewhere else. All I could think about while watching Lando approaching the finish, heading for a win, was a conversation the two of us had last week at Lando’s (mine as well, I suppose) Monaco apartment.

✿ ✿ ✿

“You know, I’ve been thinking about something,” Lando said, breaking the comfortable silence we had fallen into right after sex, both of us too tired to move.

“Oh, have you?” I asked, sucking in a sharp breath when I felt his fingers run through my folds, collecting some of his cum that spilled from me. “Lando,” I said, my voice breathless as his fingers slipped and moved down to my ass, rubbing around my other hole.

He hummed, his fingers, lubed with his own cum still tracing circles around my anal opening. “I’ve been thinking about fucking you here.” He said, his voice deep and dripping with desire. “Taking you fully. Your ass is the only part of you I haven’t fucked yet, and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I don’t know,” I said, trying my best to keep myself composed. “I’ve never done that before.”

He growled, placing a kiss on the side of my neck. “That makes it all the sweeter, baby. That I could be the first to have you like that.”

I looked at him, we were laying on our sides, facing each other. His eyes were dark, intensely focused on me. I was quiet for a moment, thinking about his proposition.

Lando waited, patiently. But his hand never moved away.

Finally, I swallowed, opening my mouth to speak. “I’ll make you deal,” I said, my voice cracking. “You win the race next week, and I’ll let you fuck my ass.”

Lando smirked, moving his fingers away from my hole, and grabbing my ass. “Deal,” he said, the tone of his voice letting me know he was already planning the whole thing out in his head.

✿ ✿ ✿

The whole garage erupted in cheers when Lando crossed the finish line. Everyone was up on their feet and screaming in happiness as the signs displayed Lando as the winner. Bringing him another 25 points and further confirming McLaren’s position in the constructors championship.

I was still lost inside of my own head as I made my way outside just in time to see Lando getting out of his car. He took off his helmet and balaclava, shaking his head to move his hair that was stuck to his forehead.

He turned towards the crowd and his eyes met mine. A smile stretched over his lips as he ran up to me and hugged me over the fence. His hands wrapped around me possessively, his lips brushing my ear. “I hope you’re ready for tonight,” he said, his breath hot against my skin. “Because I’m excited for my reward.”

He pulled away, lips drawn in a smirk and eyes gleaming. Lando leaned down, giving me a hard kiss before moving along to shake hands with the rest of his team and then going to do interviews.

✿ ✿ ✿

Lando was impatient. I knew that from the moment he found me after the interview and dragged me back to the car, throwing some bullshit line about how he was too tired to go clubbing and would rather have a nice evening in, to his friends.

His hand stayed on my thigh the whole time he was driving us back to the hotel, making me squirm in my seat,  and once we made it to the elevator his lips were on me as soon as the door closed. 

“Lan,” I said, trying to catch my breath as the elevator finally came to our floor. “Come on, this is our floor.”

Lando dragged me out the moment that the elevator doors opened, his grip tight around my wrist. He swiped the card and pushed me inside of the door, slamming the door shut.

“Fuck, you don’t know how long I wainted for this.” He said, pressing his lips against mine in a bruising kiss as he groped my breasts. “Been hard ever since I got out of the fucking car.”

His fingers moved to unzip my dress, fingers fumbling with the zipper before he roughly tugged at it and the sound of material ripping filled the room.

“Lando!” I said, as he pushed what was no longer a wearable dress down my body and onto the floor. “The dress -”

He cut me off by roughly spanking my ass, the sound of it echoing through the room. “I bought it, I can rip it.” He growled, his hands squeezing my ass. He pushed my panties off, his fingers dipping between my ass cheeks and then he froze and I knew he felt it.

He pulled away slightly, his eyes meeting mine, the expression on his face unreadable. “What’s this baby?” He asked, his fingers brushing the edge of the butt plug I was wearing.

I giggled, placing my hands on his chest, my fingers working on unbuttoning his shirt. “Let’s say,” I started, pushing his shirt off his body and running my hands over his naked chest. “I was confident you were going to win today.”

Lando groaned, leaning towards me enough for his lips to brush mine but not actually kissing me. “I’m going to destroy you,” he said, his voice rough and leaving no room for argument.

Before I could even begin to think of my reply Lando pushed me towards the bed. He pulled off his jeans, leaving himself in his boxers, before sitting down on the bed. I looked at him, confused but the confusion was quickly gone when he pulled me over his lap.

“Lan, what are you doing?” I asked, not entirely used to this position. Sure, he had spanked me over his knee before but I was totally unprepared this time. He brought one of his hands down roughly, smacking one of my ass cheeks, making me yelp.

“That’s for making me wait.” He said, then hit my other cheek with enough force to make me jolt slightly forward. “And that’s for being a naughty girl and wearing a butt plug under your dress this whole time without telling me.”

He spread my ass cheeks and for a second he was silent before he spat between them, causing me to gasp at the feeling. “Look at you,” he said, his fingers running along my ass, collecting some of his spit. “Such a dirty little whore - and all for me.”

His fingers wrapped around the top of the plug, before he pulled it out of me, making me whine at the loss of fullness. I heard squirting of liquid and barely managed to turn around enough to see Lando putting lube on his fingers.

With no warning he pushed two of his fingers inside of my ass, replacing the plug. He started thrusting them into me slowly, dragging out each movement. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me and take my cock?” He asked, slightly speeding up the movement of his fingers.

I nodded, my hair falling over my eyes and blocking my vision. “Yes!” I whined, feeling my clit rub against his leg when he flexed his thigh, making me even more desperate. “Please Lando, need your cock! Need you to fuck my ass.”

That seemed to be enough for him. Wasting no time, Lando pulled me up and manhandled me onto the beg, pushing me onto my hands and knees. He stood behind me, gently rubbing one of his hands along my back while he squirted lube onto his dick with the other.

Once he lubed himself up, he moved the hand on my back so it was holding my waist, and then started slowly pushing himself inside of me.

The head of his cock slipped in and I found myself moaning out into the pillow below me. “Hurts!” I whined, because while I had stretched my ass a bit to prepare for this particular thing I had forgotten exactly how big Lando was. 

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, the dominant facade cracking. I knew that if I wanted to stop he would, no questions asked, but that wasn’t what I wanted.

I shook my head, “No, don’t stop.”

He chuckled, slightly gripping my waist. “Then what’s the problem, baby?”

“Too big!”

“Too big?” He laughed, his tone mocking. “Oh, don’t worry sweet girl, I’ll make it fit.”

He waited a moment before pushing himself inside an inch more. I moaned at the feeling of him stretching my ass but the moan was quickly replaced by a scream as he roughly thrust the rest of his length into me.

Lando’s hand grabbed my hair, pulling my head up from the pillow I had buried it into. “See, I told you it would fit. I’ll always fit in you, you’re my whore afterall. Made to take my dick perfectly.”

He started out with an experimental thrust and when I moaned he began slowly speeding up. “Fuck, look at that,” Lando groaned. “My cock is splitting you in half.”

His thrusts became rougher and faster, his slapping against mine with each thrusts, his balls hitting against my clit. The stimulation was increasing and I hadn’t even realized I was trying to push myself towards the headboard until Lando’s arm wrapped around my stomach and he pulled me backwards, impaling me on his dick.

“Running away from my dick baby?” He questioned, his voice holding a mocking edge. “I don’t think so.”

I felt like my body was burning from all the stimulation I was experiencing and when Lando’s hand sneaked around my body and his finger started rubbing my clit my arms turned into jelly. No longer having the strength to support my upper body, I let myself fall deeper into the mattress, my face buried in the pillow.

“Lando, so good!” I whined, the sound of my voice muffled by the pillow. “Gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!”

Lando’s fingers started rubbing circled on my clit faster, his hips speeding up as well, his thrusts becoming feral and desperate as he brought me closer to my orgasm while also chasing his own.

I knew Lando was close when I felt him twist inside of me. One of his hands grasped my hair, lifting my head up. “Cum for me, baby!” He said with a slight growl.

That was all it took to tip me over the edge and I was cumming, tightening around nothing as Lando filled my ass up with his cum.

“Fuck baby, that was so hot!” Lando said, pulling his softening dick out of me with a wet pop once he slipped all the way outside. “Think we can do it again sometimes?”

“Yeah,” I said, finally allowing my body to collapse onto the bed. “We should definitely do it again sometimes.”

I heard shuffling and felt Lando getting off the bed. He slipped inside the bathroom, leaving the door open and then I heard the sound of water running.

He came back, offering me his hands and I grabbed them, allowing him to pull me up into a sitting position, slightly wincing at the ghost of pain. “I don’t think I can quiet walk yet, Lan.”

“That’s okay, baby.” He offered me a gentle smile before picking me up. Lando carried me to the bathroom and then gently put me down into the bathtub.

I moved a bit forward, making space for him to get in behind me which he did, and then leaned back, pressing my back against his chest. I hummed at the warm water, running my hands through the bubbles.

“You even made bubbles,” I said, my voice hoarse from how loud I had been. 

Lando laughed, his hands gently caressing my skin as he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss onto my cheek. “Of course I did. How could I forget how important the bubbles are for my girl? I love you, baby.”

I smiled, melting back into him, “I love you too, Lan.”

[brattyfics]

Sins of The Flesh II

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC [Riley]

Wordcount: 3,000+

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Alternate Universe (Mike Is Alive), P in V, Spanking Aftermath, Mentions of Heaven/Hell, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Absolute Filth, Breeding Kink, Oral (Female Receiving)

A/N: Part One should be read first. Divider by fireflygraphics. I'm kind of embarrassed, but not really because y'all are nasty too.

“I want grits with a salmon croquette and chicken sausage. Can you get me a strawberry lemonade too? Their lemonade is amazing.”

Riley lay on her stomach in bed, facing Terry, who was propped up against the headboard, cell phone in hand. He rubbed between her shoulder blades, his touch gentle and soothing as he dialed up the brunch restaurant. Freshly bathed and wrapped up in one of his Marines T-shirts, she felt almost like she was floating. Having Terry there, being so attentive and caring, was exactly what she needed after their time apart.

“You want a side of bacon, too?” he asked, eyeing her with a raised brow. He knew her too well—she always said no, but then asked for some of his when the food arrived. “No, I don't need that much. Just a little bit.” She pinched her fingers together, mimicking a tiny portion.

“I’ll just have some of yours. You’ll share, right, baby?” She reached over lazily to rub his forearm, her fingers caressing the scar above his wrist. His expression softened as he gazed into her sweet brown eyes. She was so mesmerizing without even trying.

“Of course. Whatever you want,” he said, placing the order without the bacon but adding on an order of beignets. They were her guilty pleasure and he enjoyed tasting the powdered sugar that lingered on her lips afterward.

He tossed his phone aside after learning the total. “It’ll be here in an hour.”

“An hour?” she sighed deeply, “I’m going to starve by then.” After church hunger hit differently, and his spanking had drained her energy even more. She needed a nap and a big hearty meal to recover.

“You’ll be a’ight,” he grinned, shaking his head slightly as he laughed. "As soon as you take that first bite, you'll be saying it was worth the wait." Riley erupted into laughter, surprised at how predictable she really was. “Quit acting like you got me all figured out,” she giggled, tracing the lines of his palms with her fingers. “Today could be different, you never know.”

“You say that every week, babe.”

“I could change my mind,” she insisted, coming up with all kinds of scenarios—like missing chicken sausage or a plain lemonade that would throw her whole day off. The beignets could arrive soggy or without enough powdered sugar.

"You just talkin' to be talkin', huh?" He cut her off, tickling her sides until she was shrieking and wiggling away from him. She swatted at his hands, enjoying the lightness of the moment and teasing him back, “You know you love when I run my mouth.”

“You got a gift for keeping things interesting, that’s for sure.” He admitted, gaze drawn to her backside as her legs kicked up playfully behind her. The moments when it felt like it was just the two of them in the entire world with nothing else to worry about were her favorite.

“See? I knew you liked all this mouth.”

“Yeah, but that mouth is what keeps getting you into trouble, too.” He reminded her with a gentle kiss, his hands sliding down to her waist. Riley smiled up at him, bright and beautiful, and he knew he couldn’t deny her anything. Her parents had spoiled their only child, and Terry nurtured that spirit, indulging her in every way. She’d run all over him if he let her, which is why their little “checks and balances” system was necessary.

"Let me see what we’re working with," He tugged her closer by her arms, brushing off her protests as he lifted the oversized T-shirt to her waist, eager to examine his handiwork. She’d soaked in an oatmeal bath for half an hour, but her butt was still welted, bearing the marks of his handprints.

"Damn, baby, I really did a number on you."

Riley propped herself up on her elbows. "I'm fine," she assured him softly. "I needed it." The release had allowed her to shed the tension that had built up over the past week, though her body was still aching.

“Let me go ahead and put some cream on that for you,” he insisted.

Earlier, she'd brushed off his offer, insisting it hurt too much and that waiting until after her bath would be best. She groaned, realizing she couldn’t avoid it any longer. Terry was all about that aftercare—always checking to make sure she was genuinely okay. He reached into the bedside drawer, pulled out the tube of homemade cream—a mix of shea butter and aloe vera gel—and then settled in behind her.

He knelt on his haunches, positioned between her legs while she buried her face in the sheets. She heard the cap pop open, followed by the sound of his hands rubbing together to warm the cream.

She hissed as he began to work magic, his touch gentle but precise.

Her eyes were tightly shut, but she could easily picture his arms flexing as he kneaded her skin. He was as skilled as any professional massage therapist. She never questioned where he’d learned that skill or how he’d perfected it. She preferred to remain ignorant. The thought of him using those hands on other women, touching them the same way, drove her up the wall.

That primal instinct constantly gnawed at her, igniting an ugly possessiveness she couldn’t rein in.

The last time they went on a dinner date, she was convinced the older woman at the table next to them was intentionally dropping her napkin just to get Terry to keep picking it up. That lady took every opportunity to touch his hands, leaning in way too close for comfort. It didn’t take all that just to say 'thank you'.

Afterward, she told him she never wanted to go back, pretending it was because the tables were too close together. The truth was, she felt too embarrassed to admit she was jealous of someone old enough to be her grandma for no good reason.

Then there were the young women who couldn’t resist trying their luck. The same girls she grew up with at church would ask, “Terry, can you bring my donations in for me? They’re so heavy. Terry, can you carry these cakes in? Terry, will you come out to the car and grab these cans of soda?”

They knew damn well they were dragging their own donations in before he started showing up. So she made it a point to lag behind on Sunday mornings. They wouldn’t be late, but they also wouldn’t arrive early enough for anyone to take advantage.

And don’t get her started on the women at the grocery store; they were the absolute worst!

They’d whisper and watch Terry as he walked through the aisles. He’d bend down and reach for everything Riley pointed out, completely oblivious to their lingering. They clustered around when he loaded up the cart with water. It drove her so crazy that she eventually started ordering her groceries for pickup, insisting he unload them at home.

All that fine was for her eyes only.

Gradually, the burning sting began to subside. What had felt like a raging fire now simmered down to a dull, tender ache. “Feel better?” he asked, kissing the back of her neck. “Mhm,” she hummed lazily, on the verge of falling asleep.

“Yes. Thank you.”

He bent down and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “I'm supposed to look after you. You don’t need to thank me for that.” She had a way of bringing out his softer side, making him feel more tender than he ever planned to be. “You had it coming, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad about it.”

“I told you I’m fine, baby.”

"Doesn't mean I can't kiss it better."

She bit her lip, wishing he would finally grant her the one request she’d been making all day. The waiting felt like a tightrope walk—teetering on the edge of cruel and unusual punishment.

“But I gotta make sure I’ve got all my bases covered first," he said as he helped her onto her hands and knees, applying gentle pressure to her back until she arched.

Slivers of light filtered through the closed blinds, bouncing off her moisturized, glossy skin. He watched, enthralled, as her hips swayed back and forth, fueled by all that pent-up energy. He couldn’t look away from the swollen, soft pink. 

"Yeah, I’mma make it all better with a kiss." He pledged, carefully using both of his hands to part her open before pressing a gentle kiss against her slit. She panted, heart racing as he kissed her pussy the same way he kissed her lips—slow and sensual, taking his sweet time before sliding his tongue in.

He teased her with his words in between.

"You always taste so good."

"I missed this pussy while I was away."

"It's all I could think about."

"Such a sweet girl, baby."

Riley jolted forward, squealing in surprise when the tip of his tongue brushed her sensitive clit. “Don’t move,” He instructed sternly, grabbing hold of the back of her thighs. His tongue lavished her wet pussy as she squirmed; warm, wet, methodical, and engineered to drive her wild. Terry was such a fucking menace.

"Wait a second, baby," She tried to gather herself, groaning and shifting her hips, as if another moment would make his teasing any easier to endure. She bit her lip to stifle her sounds, but he wasn't having that. Terry wrapped his arms under her legs until he had her firmly secured.

"What did I say?" She struggled against his grip but found it was iron-tight. "Don't run from me," He warned like he didn't already have her pinned down and at his mercy.

He took full advantage of her vulnerable position, zeroing in on her puffy clit, sucking, licking, and devouring her like a starved man. She clawed at his hands, but it was useless.

“Oh God!" She gasped, convinced he was one of the devil’s soldiers, sent to torment and steal her soul. Nothing else made sense. She’d never met a man so skilled and deliberate in driving her insane. 

“You good, baby?” She heard the smirk in his voice, certain that this was some new form of torture. The only time she caught a break was when he took a second to breathe, and even then, he was right back at it, pushing her limits all over again. His mouth was even more skilled than his hands, working her over soft and deliberate until she was trembling.

Terry was indeed a fucking menace, but she was his willing prey, moaning that it was too much while pushing her hips back for more. Her essence dripped onto his tongue and down his chin, sweet and sticky like ripe mango.

"I'm gonna come!" She wailed, grinding against his face.

Terry pawed at her butt, a surge of aggression washing over him. It took everything not to spank her ass some more. He stuffed his face where she wanted it, letting her ride his tongue until she creamed all over it.

“Shit!” she screamed, collapsing forward as her hips jerked uncontrollably. 

The sound of his shorts falling to the floor faded into the background as blood rushed to her ears, drowning out everything else. Before she realized it, he flipped her onto her back, placing one pillow under her head and another beneath her back to ease the pressure on her bottom. He lifted her hips, positioning himself to slide between her legs.

The tip of his dick leaked as he stroked it, grunting softly as he tried to mentally prepare for the tight fit. Her pussy was still clenching down on nothing, hungry for something more.

“Come ‘ere,” Riley urged, pulling him down to her lips for a deep kiss and moaning wantonly as she tasted herself. She wrapped her arms and legs tight around Terry’s large frame, grinding down against his hard dick. Her chest felt tight with emotions that were too intense.

I love you to death. You mean everything to me. I need you.

Terry could ask her to do just anything in that moment, and she’d say yes without a second thought. She’d agree to have ten children if that's what he wanted. She wanted a permanent connection, something to bind them together forever—a family of their own.

"You ready for more, pretty girl?"

"I'll take whatever you give me," She promised softly, laser-focused on his big dick as he teased at her entrance. She was fatigued, but finally getting what she had been fantasizing about all week. Deep brown skin, mesmerizing hazel eyes, and a strong, muscular build that could surround her completely.

Her face contorted, brows furrowed and mouth agape as he pushed in. Terry pressed his face into her neck, letting out a soft groan as she ran her fingers soothingly along his back. "I love you," she confessed, unable to contain the emotion any longer as he began to move his hips.

Terry could barely think straight with her squeezing him so tightly, but he managed to work up to a steady rhythm, gently pushing and pulling until he was fully sheathed inside her. Riley gripped his arms for dear life as he occupied every inch of her.

“Can’t believe you thought I was giving this to somebody else,” He let out a loud grunt, thrusting deep. "I already got my hands full with you, baby."

Riley was his own little slice of heaven, perfectly crafted just for him. He never imagined he could love someone so deeply that being apart from her felt like he was missing a limb. As he slipped into her, he remembered how she had accused him of cheating when she was the only thing on his mind. Her sweet magnolia scent and those beautiful brown eyes—she was his master, and she didn’t even realize it.

"Fuck me," She ordered with the urgency of a drill sergeant, grabbing his ass and pushing him deeper. She wanted him buried inside of her. “That feels so good.” She growled out.

“Keep fucking me, just like that.”

"Fuck this tight pussy, Daddy.”

“I missed this dick so fucking much.”

“I’ve been thinking about it everyday.”

She didn’t usually speak that way, but something was taking over her, making the vulgar words spill from her lips effortlessly.

It had taken all his restraint not to give in to her earlier, but it was worth it for this moment. The way her heat molded around him, fitting him perfectly as she clung to him, desperate and wanton.

“You’re being so rough with me, baby!” she exclaimed, though there was no hint of complaint. Terry was manhandling her like a ragdoll, and she loved every second of it. Watching such a disciplined man lose control over her was exhilarating.

Terry tried to restrain his darker urges around her, but she was so beautiful when she cried. It only fueled his hunger, driving him to be even more aggressive. She clawed at his back, yelling out when his balls smacked her tender ass.

“I wanna have your baby, Daddy.” Riley confessed with tears in her eyes. She knew she had to be losing her mind, but she meant every word.

Terry’s hips faltered. “What did you just say?”

“I want to give you a baby. I want us to have a baby together. Can we, please?”

Every conversation they’d had about having children had ultimately come down to the understanding that they needed to be married first before starting a family. The pullout method, however dangerous, had worked for them thus far. He couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth, but she knew exactly what to say to get what she wanted out of him. "I want to be the one to give you a baby, Daddy. The only one.”

Terry cursed, struggling to keep his composure. His own mind was foggy with love and lust. Her parents would be furious if he got her pregnant before marriage, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. They could go ring shopping tomorrow and then apply for the marriage license right after. It was just paperwork—he already knew how he felt.

“You for real?” He imagined her big and round, pregnant and filled with his child. Relying on him to help her tie her shoes or assemble a crib for their child.

"Yes!" she replied eagerly, her eyes shining with desire.

“You want me to make you a mommy?”

“Yes, I’m ready to have all your babies, Daddy.” Babies? She always had to take it a step further. The bare minimum was never enough for her. She was utterly spoiled, and their children would undoubtedly be the same.

“How am I supposed to turn you down when you ask so sweet?” Terry leaned in closer, his breath warm against her neck as he let out a low growl. “If you want my baby, you’re gonna have to be a really good girl and keep that pussy open for me.”

“If you keep giving it to me good, I’ll give you what you want.”

“I’ll cum deep in that creamy pussy and give you a baby.”

She was so wet that everything felt slick, her brown eyes glazed over with desire. He knew he should try to be the responsible one, but all he could think about was filling her womb and giving her the beautiful baby she was begging him for. “Tell me you’re mine,” he says, gripping her neck firmly, leaving her breathless.

“I-," The doorbell rings, and it takes her a few moments to process the sound. Terry doesn’t stop, sweat dripping down his face and onto her skin, mixing with hers. It’s as if he’s in a trance, unable to concentrate on anything but his mission.

“Oh my God,” she cries, pushing at his firm stomach for when he strikes a particularly sensitive spot inside of her. Terry forced her up the bed with each powerful motion of his hips, fucking her harder and deeper than he ever had before.

“Relax. It's probably the food," He crooned, brushing her hands aside. "I’ll get it, but I need to give you my baby first.”

“Oh my God,” She braced herself as the pressure built in her belly. Terry was driving himself deep and hard in her pussy like he had a point to prove. He really wanted that baby. With her eyes closed shut, Riley surrendered, pinching and pulling on her nipples until she was soaking Terry and the sheets beneath them. He held her down, ensuring she couldn’t escape as he flooded her with cum.

“Oh my god,” she repeated incessantly, like a broken record. All of his weight settled on top of her, their foreheads touching. She gazed into his eyes, the realization of what they had just done beginning to sink in. She didn’t have any regrets; she was eager to claim him as hers forever. Excited to nurture a child who represented the best of each of them.

Terry leaned in, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss that lingered as if he were trying to memorize the taste of her. When he finally pulled away, it was with reluctance, his gaze locked on hers. He couldn’t find any hint of regret in her eyes, and he certainly didn’t have any himself.

"Thank you, Daddy." She cooed, reaching down to stroke her clit. He watched, entranced as their slick oozed out of her. It felt like he was hardwired for it, instinctively wanting to fill her up again and push in deep. “Whatever happens next, I’m gonna take care of you.” He vowed, his warm hand pressing gently on her belly. He silently prayed for a favorable outcome, hoping it would lead to a little baby in the next ten months.

She brushed the sweat from his forehead with the back of her hand. “I know. I love you and trust you completely. I really want us to be a family.”

“We will be,” he said with a conviction that tugged at her heartstrings.

The doorbell rang again.

“The food,” she reminded him, gently pushing him back before they got too caught up in the moment. She needed a moment to catch her breath anyway. The tension between them was smoldering.

He cursed under his breath as he reluctantly pulled away, picking up his shorts from the floor and then his wallet from the dresser. She heard the faint sound of the door alarm as the front door opened, followed by quiet voices conversing while she stared up at the ceiling.

Her heavy eyelids fluttered shut. There was no way she'd be able to go to work in the morning.

Terry eventually shuffled back into the room, holding the tied bag in his large hands like a prized catch. “Come on. Let’s put something else in your belly before you knock out on me.”

Thoughts? Lol 😂

Tagging the people who asked for a second installment:

@sageispunk @avoidthings @megamindsecretlair @planetblaque

[ladybirdswritings]

SWEET THING, DBF — joel miller x reader.

DESCRIPTION: your life is a storm—an overbearing father, a shitty boyfriend, and the ache of growing up. everything becomes more tangled when you find yourself drawn to your father’s best friend, joel. NOTES - no apocalypse! leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | next part

A03 | masterlist

sweet thing…

Your father did the best he could. You knew that very well. Charlie was a man respected and adored by his humble community. A hard working father turned single parent when your mom fell ill and god— you were his little flower. His sweet thing. His angel.

Flowers are fragile, though. Gentle, moldable petals and stiff, snappable stems.

It is why he kept you so close to him, so prized like painted porcelain just ready to crack.

It is why you were here. Here at Jackson’s golden hued dance with more powdered, jam-filled pastries and red, roasted meats then you could count on one hand. Here. Instead of the alternative option which was the party your boyfriend decided to attend without you.

You got the invite, sure, yet even as a legal adult— what daddy says? Goes. So long as you remain under his roof, at least. It was infuriating, though. The freedom of all your dear friends, the spontaneity. If only that could be you…

Your eyes drifted to the moustached sponge of all fun and joy in the world, wrapped in a flannel with bourbon in hand. Your dad was seated next to Joel, as he often was. His presence was a newfound thing for these recent years and though Joel would never say it, you had an inkling that he wanted to stand by his friend’s side after your mother… well.

You didn’t know Joel well. No, not at all. His visits were always the occasional dinner or drop in for fishing or some awfully manly thing. You knew well that your mother adored him, though— so that was enough to make him alright in your book.

Neighbor Betsy told you once that Joel had lost his wife and daughter too, and that maybe he was trying to keep your father from going through what he went through alone.

You only laughed at that.

Joel Miller was gruff and cold. Could he have such a warm heart beneath his sherpa coat?

You dazed out, the fingers snapping in front of your eyes made you blink back into the golden hues and roasted sausages on pointy little sticks.

“You alright, honeybee?” Your father asked, laying a heavy arm upon your shoulders. Joel was slower in his approach, eyeing you up and down with confusion and something else in his eyes.

“Peachy.” You only muttered, taking a sip of your freshly squeezed lemonade. Jackson’s finest.

“Oh come on now angel… now you know I can’t have you runnin’ off with that boyfriend of yours. I always told you he was trouble. Member’ when he ditched you down by Church Road during mosquito season? Well you were ripe as a red tomater and who had to pick you up?”

You were riper, redder now. Your cheeks an embarrassed hue not even on the color wheel, not even identifiable. You bowed your head, huffing out your frustrations before simply muttering: “you did, dad.”

He nodded proud, squeezing your shoulder. “That’s right, I did… what?”

Your eyes drifted up to see your father’s oldest friend with an odd kind of expression on his face. Brows pinched and raised, wrinkles plaguing his forehead deeper now.

Joel only cleared his throat, shifting on his boots and taking a sip of his bourbon in preparation. Then? He spoke.

“You ain’t lettin’ her be.” He gruffly offered, eyes set and sure. Your father only stilled for a moment, wondering if it was even Joel’s place to have an opinion… maybe it was.

“Why’s that?” He asked Joel, and the rough looking man only took another swig.

“Mm. We were both young once. We both made mistakes, y’gotta let her make her own— can’t hide her from em’. Just ain’t how it works.”

Poppies blossomed like springtime had finally begun in your eyes. Finally— someone understood. You didn’t expect him to be so… wise?

Your father only huffed, taking a long glance your way as he mused.

“Even if I wanted to loosen the leash tonight, Joel, I can’t. Maria needs me here to keep an eye on crazy old Arthur.”

Joel’s brows relaxed at that, a purpled hand running along the zipper of his flannel coat. His eyes were a chocolate kind of brown, dark and quietly encasing his thoughts within them.

He hummed, gaze drifting back to you.

You wanted to shrink. Perhaps it was because you were on the spot, perhaps it was because the way he stared would make anyone feel small.

It seemed like centuries before he cleared his throat again.

“I’ll take her.”

What?

You didn’t understand it, not one bit. Why was he kind enough to offer you an out here? Kind enough to test your father’s words.

Discomfort radiated through your father’s coat, tension molding its way into his already stiff bones. A long sigh, a glance back and forth as he truly considered. His expression was far too plagued with worry, and you knew well that it was now or never.

You had to slam down the last nail in the oak wood coffin.

“Please, daddy? I’ll check in every half hour, I promise.”

Tension eased, slightly but— still. Your eyes were doe-like and sweet, and he gazed into them for a moment far too long before allowing his arm to drop.

“Every fifteen minutes and you’ve got a deal. Miller, you make sure my daughter gets in and out of that bastard’s house safely.”

Joel only nodded once, jaw tense and expression stoic. Your grin was wider than a field of flowers, and you immediately wrapped your father in a hug. Your thank yous seemed endless, and it made him laugh.

When you parted, Joel had keys grasped in his rough hands. You realized for a moment that you had no idea why he was doing this. What did he owe you? Maybe it was pity. You were half an orphan, after all.

With a cautious glance, your eyes met his own. He nodded once as if to urge you closer, and you stumbled his way. Before you knew it? You were out the door, trailing behind him like his shadow.

Of all the people who cared enough to convince your father to let you go to this party tonight? Joel Miller was the last person you expected it to be…

¿to be continued?

[domesticgoddess22]

banana creampie

a thanksgiving one shot

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader summary: Your dad is hosting Thanksgiving this year, and he's invited his closest friends, including Joel Miller, who drives you to get ingredients for your famous banana cream pie. warnings: dbf!joel, age gap (early 20s/mid 40s), car sex, unprotected piv, daddy kink, breeding kink, cowgirl, rough sex, creampie, daddy issues, TLOU AU no outbreak, dubcon, praise kink word count: 3.3k rating: explicit MDNI

Happy Holidays <3 This is a little something I cooked up on Thanksgiving day, so I hope you enjoy it. Sorry it isn't edited yet.

**update: I completely forgot to mention that I got a lot of inspiration from a scene in Macfrog's cowboy like me, when MC and Joel go to the grocery store.

~~~~~~~~

Rays of orange spilled across the living room carpet, the sun peeking through the curtains that ebbed and flowed to the cool Austin breeze. The slivers of the light that dotted the couch warmed your bare legs, still shining from the lotion you lathered yourself up with. You turned the TV volume to blasting to overpower the chaotic sounds of your dad’s cooking. 

“You gonna get dressed and help your old man out here, kiddo?” Your dad’s head poked out from around the archway that led to the kitchen, a greasy spatula in hand and your brow furrowed at the drips that now splattered on the white tile.

“I am dressed,” you contested, eyes rolling into the back of your head. You just came back from college, celebrated your twenty-second birthday even, but your dad would always see you as a kid.

He frowned, eyes closing as he shook his head in disapproval before dipping back into the kitchen. It would take some getting used to, your new attire since coming back from NYU, that is. If there’s one thing your fashion degree taught you, it’s how to dress. You wore a juniper green corset top, laced up from the front and tied together to display your breasts nicely. The top was fashioned with a black, skin tight mini skirt with a slit along the right thigh, leaving little to the imagination.

You groaned, rolling off the couch lazily, but careful enough not to ruin your hair. Big, glossy curls cascaded down your back, bouncing slightly as you stood. There was a bow as red as wine that held your hair together in a half updo, so any cream from the pie you were about to make wouldn’t splash into your hair.

You dragged your feet to the kitchen, cracking open the pantry and digging for the ingredients to make your famous banana cream pie. 

“So whose all comin’ again?” You asked, eyeing the recipe to determine if you should still double the portions. You knew your dad’s friends were comin’, they always did, but you figured you’d check and make sure there wasn’t any changes.

“Donna and Rick, Keith, Rob,” your dad began listing off his friends, cursing when a splash of sausage grease sprayed his arm. “Oh yeah, and Joel and Sarah are comin’.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh?” You tried to come off casual, like your heart wasn’t about to burst in your chest at the sound of your dad’s best friend–the hottest guy on the block. “Thought they were goin’ to Tommy’s this year?” 

“They were, but Tommy and Maria are sick, so there’s been a change of plans,” your dad said, oblivious to how Joel’s name reddened your cheeks.

“That okay?” Your dad finally asked when you didn’t say anything.

“‘Course, why wouldn’t it be?”

“I guess I forgot to tell ya with all the holiday craziness, it must of slipped my mind. Do you have enough ingredients to make your little tart?”

“Pie,” you corrected. “It’s a banana cream pie, dad.” You chewed your cheek, annoyed with his inability to pay any attention to you.

“Right, of course, of course. Do you have everything you need?” He’s half focused on checking the turkey now, the oven door screeching at the hinges as he stabs a thermometer into the near-browning meat.

“Actually, I’m gonna need more cream if I double this recipe.” You frowned, thinking about how you’d need to run to the store on Thanksgiving day and fight traffic and long lines. Not to mention, you haven’t gotten your license yet, there was no need for it in New York with all the subways and taxi cabs. 

“Call Joel ‘n ask him to be a doll and pick some up for you ‘fore he gets here.”

You slipped back into the living room, away from the hiss of sausages cooking, and flipped your phone open. Joel picked up, the sound of his rumbly voice left you forgetting what it was you called for in the first place.

“Hey, darlin’. What do you need?”

“Hey. Was just wonderin’ if you could be a doll and pick up some heavy cream for me before you get here?”

You heard him laugh through his nose. “On Thanksgiving Day?” 

“The stores are open for a half-day,” you said flatly. “But I guess if you don’t want my famous banana cream pie, then don’t bother.” There was a sweet, playful lilt to your tone at the latter, but their was a shuffling sound followed by a car door slamming.

You heard the sound of the front door crank open, as old and rusty as it was, and your head whipped around to see the very man you were on the phone with. He held a case of bears in his other hand. The two of you mirrored each other, flipping your phones shut.

“Look who decided to come back from New York.” Maybe it was wishful thinking or ovulation that was playing tricks on your mind, but you swore that his eyes clung to your hips, your breasts. 

“For now.” You said, ending the conversation right then and there. You didn’t want to entertain questions about what direction your career was going in and all that bullshit that you didn’t have answers to. “So I take it you’re not gettin’ cream then?”

“Didn’t say that. 'Course I want your pie.” He smirked at you right as Sarah came flying in, a giant sack of potatoes in her hand. She nearly jumped out of her boots when she saw you, screaming your name in excitement.

“You’re here, you’re here, you’re here!” Sarah dropped the potatoes on the floor with a thump, rushing to hug you. Your arms tightened around her, breathing in the sweet, citrusy scent of her curls.

“Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in forever! And you’ve gotten so big!” It was true. Last time you saw Sarah was probably a year ago. She had just started middle school, but now she was almost as tall as you. “What, did ya hit a growth spurt or something?!” She beamed at you proudly.

“I’m 5’1” now!”

“Where’s your dad?” Joel asked.

“Kitchen. Makin’ a mess, cooking up a storm.”

“Hey bud,” you hear Joel say casually to your dad. And then you hear him say that he’s going to take you to the store, ordering Sarah to get started on the potatoes while the two of you run out. You feel your face go hot and your palms all sweaty at the thought of being alone with Joel. The two of you have never been alone before.

You rush to the side table, dotting your lips with a subtle, pink gloss. Joel strides back into the living room.

“Alright, let’s go.”

“It takes two people to go pick up some cream?” You taunt, and not quite sure why you do. Your heart was soaring at just the thought of being alone with him, and maybe it was because of that you put on the facade. The mask that you didn’t want to, just so he didn’t somehow find out that you were dying to be around him. 

“Did New York teach you to be this sassy? I liked it better when you were just Texas sassy.” He smirked, grabbing his keys and motioning for you to follow him to the front of the house to his truck parked in the driveway. Still the same old chevy. Still the same old Joel. 

“Aww, are you sayin’ you missed me?” You liked keeping up with his playful, teasing banter.

“We all did.” There was a sweet look in those big brown eyes that, for the first time, locked on yours. “Didn’t think you were gonna come back to this old town.”

“Yeah, I’m still figuring things out I guess. New York… wasn’t everything I had imagined it would be.” The thought seeped in and you felt the pang of disappointment. 

“You’re young. You have plenty of chances to try things, fuck up, and then try som’ new.” 

The engine roars to life, and you realize then that you were freezing. But it was too late to change now, Joel was already halfway down the block by the time you really gave it some thought.

“Those flimsy pieces of fabric not keepin’ you warm?” He gave you a quick side glance. He sounded like a scolding father with the way he said it. Not the same judgement as your dad, but of a similar breath, as if to say ‘I told you you shouldn’t have worn that in this weather.’ 

“I’m fine,” you scowled, but Joel must not have believed you as he cranked up the heater. 

“I have a sweatshirt in the back, you can wear that when we get out.” He jabbed a thumb toward the back of the cab, and then gave you another side glance, this time his eyes were on your thighs. “I know I ain’t your dad but–”

“No, you’re not.”

“You wear som’ like that, on a day like today, Kieth is gonna get drunk and his eyes’ll be all over you,” his face scrunched in disgust.

“I can handle Kieth,” you snorted. Kieth was your dad’s other friend, one that has been blatantly lusting after you every time you’ve come to visit. Your dad never seemed to notice, but it seemed like Joel had.

“Or…” You teased, lips pulling into a cat-like smile. “I can just let him look at me, if he wants to. He’s a decent looking guy, could probably use a little fun since he’s been divorced for what, two years now? Three?” In all honesty, if Kieth hadn’t been standing next to Joel every time he came around, you’d probably think he was the hottest guy on the block.

Joel’s grip around the steering wheel tightened. “You like him?”

“I dunno. I’m young, I don’t know what I want. I have plenty of time to fuck up.”

“My advice to you? Don’t fuck up with Keith. Guy’s a fuckin’ mess. And your dad would probably kill him.”

Your head slams back against the headrest and you let out a roaring laugh. “My dad wouldn’t even notice.” 

“He would.”

“Well, then who should I fuck up with then?”

“That’s for you to decide, darlin’.” Joel’s voice was low, his sweet Texan tang like music to your ears.

“But not really because you said I can’t have Keith, so who does that leave me with? You?” You bit your lip and smiled while Joel continued to look straight ahead at the open road. “I guess it’s only fair. It’s only been three years since Kieth’s divorce, but it’s been nearly a decade for you.”

It was quiet for a minute, and you worried that you pushed to far. Flirted to hard. You waited for him to scold you, say something and make you feel ashamed for your advances and commenting on his failed marriage.

“You’re gonna piss off your old man, sleepin’ with all his friends,” Joel finally said, and it was that comment that gave you the opening to press forward. Joel put the car in park when you pulled up to the country market, the lot nearly empty. Not quite as a packed as you thought it’d be. 

“Not all of them.” Your gaze bore down at his lap and then slowly, slowly let your eyes roam up his chest until you met his, lookin up at his through thick lashes, biting your lip. “Just one.”

He shifted in his seat, cracking open the chevy door. “Let’s get your cream.”

You wore Joel’s sweatshirt, just like he told you to. It smelled like him, a musky, woody scent that made your pulse quicken with each inhale. He trailed behind you as you all but skipped down the aisles, heading straight for the cream. You grabbed another set of bananas too, just in case you needed to top off the pie. Joel was eerily silent the entire time, and you hoped it was because he was horny, not becuase he was mad. Or maybe it was a little bit of both. You smiled devilishly at the thought.

When you dropped the bananas and cream on the belt, you pulled out a few bucks to pay for it all, but Joel’s wallet was already out, handing the cashier a few bills. “Hey, I was gonna pay for it.”

The cashier, a kind old woman, bless her soul, just smiled at the two of you. “Let daddy pay.” Your face dropped and Joel stiffened, grabbing the receipt and storming out. You tail after him, but his footsteps eat the ground, and you’re practically running to keep up.

“Woah, woah, woah! Slowdown their cowboy, I’m not used to running this much.” 

He flung the door open, jumped in the truck and took a long, deep breath. He was silent again. Joel was always a man of few words, and you always wondered what he was thinking. There were times over summer break–when you’d come back to visit, wearing nothing but a string bikini while you splashed around in his pool–you wondered if he thought of you. 

“Is everything okay?” You tore his sweatshirt off, feeling the heat build up on your skin now that something was amiss with Joel.

Joel groaned quietly, letting his elbow rest on the side door and burying his eyes in his left palm. 

“You’re so young. We shouldn’t be… shouldn’t be talkin’ like this. It ain’t right.”

“I thought we were just havin’ fun.” You said, eyebrows stitching inward at the fear of rejection.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s fun.”

“Then what’s the problem?” An innocent question, and then your eyes trailed back down to his pants and it was then that you realized you didn’t need an answer.

“Seeing you, prancing around in your little fuckin’ skirt and your shirt that barely covers your tits… fuck. I–that’s part of why I gave you my sweatshirt. So I didn’t have to look at you and torture myself anymore.” He starts, slowly turning his gaze to look at you. “But it didn’t make a difference. You… are so fuckin’ gorgeous I can’t hide my desire. Can’t go back to your dad’s like this.” He buried his face in his palm again, wishing away his erection. 

Wetness pooled between your thighs at his confession. You felt your mouth water as you eyed the length of him through his jean, a pulsing throbbing mass that you’d give anything to have a taste of.

“Then let’s not go back like that.”

He turned back to you, slowly. You exchanged a look of mutual agreement, and as he opened his mouth to respond, you slid a leg over him and perched yourself on his lap, straddling him. Feeling the heat of him through the fabric of your panties. He rolled the sit back slowly, and then ground his hips against yours, his mouth hot on your neck, sucking and licking at your sensitive skin. The hair of his beard scraped against your chest and shoulder, but you didn’t care. 

“Baby…” he whispered into your ear, hands groping your mounds, thumbing the sensitive peaks. And then his mouth was back to sucking your neck, pulling soft moans from your lips as he did so. He slid his hand up your shirt, his calloused palm flush against your bare skin. His body heat warmed you in the cold november air.

Your moans became louder and more frequent with every fondling stroke of his hands on your breasts, your hips, and your ass. The wetness of his tongue against your neck. You cried out his name, begging, pleading him for more as your ground your hips on his lap. He groaned in approval.

“This what you want?” He asked, teasinglly pulling your pants to the side and letting his finger feel the wetness there before pulling away. 

“Yes, yes, please, please, please.”

And then he let his fingers slide along your clit before rubbing in a smooth, circular motion. “Fuck, you’re wet…” 

You moaned and begged him to continue, and your sweet cries left him thirsty for your lips. His mouth locked onto yours, tongue exploring you without any reservation. He kissed you roughly, like you belonged to him, and when you moaned at his touch between your legs, the rumbling growl that came from somewhere deep within his chest poured into your mouth. You cried out, spreading your legs as far as you could in the driver’s seat and let yourself fall into the white hot release, body convulsing as he rubbed you through your high. 

As you came too, you heard the sound of his belt unbuckling. His cock was out not even a second later, the massive, swollen head slick with precum. He was huge, both in girth and length, and you almost shied away. Worried he wouldn’t fit. But he didn’t give you time to turn back as he lifted your hips from his lap, lined up at your entrance, and then forced you down on him in one long stroke. 

“Good girl,” he said into your ear.

You screamed, biting his shoulder to hold back any other screams that might tear from your lungs and give you both away. Your hips moved on their own accord, bouncing on his cock, bigger than any dildo you’d ever used. 

“Joel… fuck me! Please, please!”

His hips bucked up, slammed into you, somehow deeper with every thrust. He growled, eyes trained on your bouncing breasts that are now exposed, the corset snug underneath them, propping them up for his pleasure. His hands found a spot on your hips, gripping you hard enough to bruise. 

He slammed into you, filling you to the brim in violent thrusts. You continued to bounce, your movements matching his but his stamina outmatched yours and you let him use your body for his pleasure. He fucked you, the truck bouncing in rhythm to his thrusts, the sound of Pink Floyd’s Shine On You Crazy Diamond playing quietly on the radio. You thanked God for the cold air fogging the windows of the truck, otherwise you’d be on display for the world.

“Come inside me, please daddy.” You begged, and then wrapped our arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

And that’s what undid him. You. Both of you. Joel bucked his hips into you in sloppy, violent thrusts. You screamed, reaching the blissful release again, screaming daddy, daddy, daddy as he took you there, pouring his white hot cream into you in an endless load. You begged him for more and he buried himself into you.

And then your body went limp against his. Once bouncy, boisterous curls now sticking to the sweat on both of your faces.

“Fuck…” Joel groaned, pulling his cock out of you. Both of you pulled yourselves back together. You combed your fingers through your hair and Joel handed you a wipe to clean yourself up. “‘M too old to be this impulsive. Look what you did to me.”

You smirked, wiping the white milk from between your legs. “And I’d do it again.”

When Joel pulled up to the driveway, you noticed more cars parked out front. “Looks like everyone else showed up.”

Keith was in the living room as you and Joel entered the house, a frown plastered on his face when he looked at you, your neck, and then cast a glance at Joel. You looked in the mirror by the door and found a hickey the size of a golfball tattooed on your neck, covering it with your curls as soon as your realized the evidence.

“Hey, look who finally came back!” Your dad strolled over, a smile on his face that you knew would be wiped away the second he found out what you did with his best friend just moments ago. “Did you get what you needed?”

“Yeah, we got the cream.”

More cream than you needed, actually.

[thanksbutno98]

Hi!!!! Can you do one with John with the kids tell him how all these dads help mom with stuff ( getting food out the trunk, helping put the kids in the car, etc) and how the dads look at mommy with heart eyes, so one day John decided to surprise his family at the school (football game,cheer practice) and sees his wife in one of those (Lululemon Jackets and shorts, or sundress) aka looking like snack what would he do?

Snow Cone

John Price x fem!reader

Authors note: This idea is so amazing! I dropped everything I was doing just to write this fic. I kinda went a little wild and made it extra long. Thank you so much for your suggestion I had a ton of fun writing this.

Warning: illusion of sex, swearing, blood, men being pigs, fist fight, not edited.

Summary: The beginning of the summer fair is happening at your children’s school. You volunteer as always but your husband John Price finds out some of the dads only volunteer because they get to see you.

—————

“They do what?” John was staring at his two children who were eating their breakfast happily. He was taken aback by his daughters words as he sat in a baggy crew neck sweat shirt and his boxers at the kitchen table.

“Yeah some of the daddies help mummy with EVERYTHING!” Evelyn waved her spoon in the air for emphasis. Still in her purple pajamas her brother dressed similarly to John except he wore a t-shirt.

“Yeah, especially Mr. Jacobs. He doesn’t let mum carry anything. Lucas’s dad also helps mum set things up. He called her pretty last time.” Jj was talking with his mouth full as he ate at a rapid pace. John couldn’t help how a wave of jealousy flooded his veins but decided finding out more information was a better plan of action.

“Well mummy is pretty” Evelyn said in a sing song voice.

“Slow down, no one’s going to take it from you.” John scolded his son lightly for inhaling his food. He thought over the knew found knowledge that some of the fathers from his children’s school had become smitten with you.

“So it’s just Mr. Jacobs and Lucas’ dad who like to help your mum?” John said nonchalantly pushing his half eaten breakfast away. His stomach was becoming sour at the thought of men ogling you at events meant for their children.

“No, Mr. Baker does too and and and Katherine’s daddy!” Evelyn’s fork shot to John plate and she snagged the half eaten sausage before her brother could.

“No fair Evie, I wanted that!” Jj yelled spitting bits of egg over the table.

“That’s enough!” John’s gruff voice had both the children sitting back in their chairs with mean looks cast at each other.

“Chew with your mouth closed.” Their father was standing with his plate, dumping the rest of the contents on the oldest plate and giving his daughter his toast. Jj stuck his tongue out at his sister and she answered back by eating the sausage in one bite. The glare they shared was electric as John went over to the sink and sighed to himself.

The fact your were a very attractive woman was not lost on your husband. He was well aware and thanked his lucky stars how you indulged him in ways some wives would think was to risqué or too adventurous. John was under the impression that no one would know of your eagerness in the bedroom due to your modest nature and dress.

That being said John did know men tended to have an affinity towards you because of how you came off so sweet, innocent, and corruptible. John wasn’t too shocked to hear Mr. Jacobs took a shine to you considering he was a single dad. What took him off guard was the married men his children listed that were possibly infatuated with you. No John knew they were.

Today was the big fair to celebrate summer break at your children’s school and you were helping set up like you always did. John wasn’t one to be active in the community let alone sign up to help, he had enough on his plate.

You on the other hand wanted to show up for your children because they loved seeing you while they got to run around and have fun. You had asked John if he��d be able to help but he told you he had some stuff to do on base, which he did; but now he didn’t want to go to work.

It was unsettling for John to find out these things from his children but he also knew you would have mentioned something worth attention. Always taking peoples kindness at face value. It was the sweetness and trusting part about you that made John worry. His insecurities of how he aged faster than you weighing heavy on his broad shoulders. To this day he still adamantly believed you were out of his league.

The thought of you this morning giving him a quick kiss goodbye as he grabbed your ass and pulled you into a quick make out made him worry more. With a sly grin you strutted out in athletic shorts that made your ass look amazingly round. That tight little Lululemon zip up had John’s head spinning. It hugged your chest so perfectly and you only had a sports bra on underneath that you would think compressed your breasts, but no it somehow pushed them up and together. You were a sight for sore eyes and your husband like always was drooling over you.

John’s head was in the gutter, flirting with you that he’d push those little shorts to the side and have you cream for him when you got home. Now he was realizing other men probably had a very similar train of thought as his own. It was obvious when you dressed to capture John’s attention which was not today. He knew you were just wearing something that felt comfortable in the heat and covered enough skin. It wasn’t your fault you looked absolutely delectable in athletic wear on this hot summer day.

“When’s Auntie Sarah going to be here? She’s dropping us off right?” Jj asked now tugging on his fathers crew neck. John snapped out of his thoughts peering down at the 8 year old.

“Yes, Sarah will be here any minute.”

—————

John was peeling out of the bases parking lot as he headed to the school fair. The meeting had run long and John was called out for not paying attention. For the first time in his entire career he said he need to be back at home for personal reasons. Why he chose to use this excuse now was beyond him, considering it would have been better used if one of children were sick.

The thought of you being hit on by other dads made his skin crawl. John had also realized that no one at your children’s school had met him. So you must seem like a single mom or at least a neglected one since he was away so often. You never complained though always giving him the highlights and mentioning he would’ve loved being there. John wasn’t jealous, fuck that he just needed to make sure you were okay. At least that’s what he told himself.

John Price was a man of composure and stoic in nature, not a man of jealousy. He was a man made and sculpted for his role of Captain in the military. Dressed in his camouflage cargo pants and an army green t-shirt that was neatly tucked in he realized he was going to stick out. That didn’t matter. All he could think about was you. His beautiful wife and the warm smile you had fashioned on your face whenever in public. That smile was different compared to the lazy ones you gave him, which were his favorite. It was your purest smile he was use to. The one where it wasn’t forced but based off true content and love. The one you cast at your children from across the room or at him in the dim light of your bedroom. John chased that version of you down the narrows roads towards his children’s school.

Pulling into the school parking lot he began to search for a spot until he saw you at the back of your car shuffling things around. You were bent over and trying to fish something out. A man John had never met standing behind you and off to the side. Pointing to something deeper in the car to get you in a more compromising position. The strangers eyes were fixed on your ass and John could tell by the way his lips moved you two were chatting.

With boiling blood John pulled into the closest spot and hopped out of his truck quickly. Taking his hand and pushing down his muttonchops and fixing his hair as he jogged over to you two in his heavy boots. He wanted to rip this man to shreds for looking at you like that but he knew better. You’d lose your mind if he picked a fight and he was more scared of you than anything else. You were sweet to him but you had a firm boundary against any physical violence. You saw it as immature and lacking in self restraint.

“I can carry it.” Your sweet voice fluttered through the humid air. You were now standing with a white cooler pressed to your body as you held it, using your knee for support. The man was leaning in all too close pushing his body against the white object and his eyes darkening with dirty intention. His knee bumped yours which had you shuffling back a step. The contact made you skin feel sticky and gross. When you were asked if you needed help you said ‘no’ but still once again one of the fathers followed to help you.

“It’s no worries Mrs. Price or can I call you Y/N? Maybe over dinner?” The man was moving to take the cooler from your pink painted nails.

“Um-“ John watched as you became somewhat timid at the flirtatious remark then there was a shift in your face. He knew that look all too well he’d seen it a million times. It was the look you gave him and anyone else before you were about to tell them off.

“Darling, I’ll take that for you.” John called from five cars away. He was jogging toward you relishing in the way your head snapped towards the sound of his voice. Your face lit up in a way this stranger had never seen before and wished you’d look at him that way.

“John, you made it!” You set the cooler down and waved him over.

“Dan, this is my husband. John this is Dan he’s Lucas’ father.” You motioned with your hand as you introduced the two men. You couldn’t deny how relieved you were to see him after this awkward encounter.

“Nice to meet you. Your wife is?” John stuck out his hand out capturing Dans in a vice grip. The handshake was so rough it had the other man wincing and trying to squeeze half as tight, then pulling away and holding his hand in pain. The realization that your husband was in fact in the military and not to be fucked around with was terrifying. People had been gossiping about Price because no one knew what he looked like or if he really held up to your description of him.

“Kaitlin.” Dan answered shortly. He seemed flustered as he nodded to you then came up with a lame excuse that his wife needed him.

You two watched as the shorter man walked off and disappeared between cars. John was about to tell you how the guy was checking you out and how your children told him about the other dads taking a shine to you. The thought was interrupted when you kissed his cheek suddenly as he picked up the cooler.

“It means the world to me you found time.” You leaned on your tip toes kissing you husbands chapped lips. John’s didn’t argue being utterly swept up in your charm.

“Also that guys kinda a creep.” Your words were coated in ambivalence.

Your mood changed with the smile you gave him spreading from your lips to your eyes. You were squinting up at him in delight. The jealousy in his heart felt misplaced as he saw the affect his presence had on you.

“Came here just for you.” John almost whispered feeling guilty for his jealousy. You’d never entertain anyone else’s glances or flirtations and John knew that.

“Really? Not the kids?” You teased. You were on the fence as to which was better.

“Yeah, you do so much. I should be available to help you make Jj and Evies day one they won’t forget.” The words were the most sincere he’d spoken that day.

“Well let’s get moving so you don’t have to keep holding that.” You giggled your words out as you pointed to the white cooler in your husbands strong hands. You craved those hands on your body but now wasn’t the time.

Quite honestly him showing up for you and your kids had you weak in the knees. The bonus was seeing how sexy he looked in a fitted shirt tucked in oh so neatly and cargo pants had you craving his body. In a perfect world you would have dragged him back to his truck and rode him just the way he liked. Desperate and dirty.

“What’s in here anyway?” John asked as he followed you in step. Tearing you from your unholy thoughts.

“Fruit and juice.” You shrugged, tips of your ears turning red.

John stood proud by you as the walk grew shorter and shorter. Waving at a few passing parents and introducing him they all seemed pleasantly surprised to see him. Before you entered back into the grass field you grabbed John by his shirt, pulling him off to the side. Stopping he gave you a quizzical look.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this but I just know you can fly off the handle sometimes.” You peered up at your husband through long lashes. He could tell you were nervous by the way you fiddled with your hair.

“Promise I won’t freak out.” John had a strong idea as to what you were going to say next.

“A few of the guys here have made passes at me. I immediately rejected them, they’ve all been single dads. Until now. Which was extremely uncomfortable.” You paused gauging your husbands reaction. He was stoic as usual so you continued.

“I show up for Jj and Evie and thats why I’ve been begging you to come. I was hoping if people saw you then they would quit it.” John could only stare back at you with a blank expression as you confirmed he’s sneaking suspicion.

“Why not tell me?” John asked, titling his head to the side in concern.

“When I told you about that one dad hitting on me and you shoved him into a wall and threatened to bust his knee caps, John.” You reminded.

“He cornered you in a supply closet.” John’s words were even though all he felt was rage at the memory of you scurrying down the hall of Evelyn’s old school looking for him.

“I don’t want that again. I don’t want all the moms at this new school hating me. It’s hard to volunteer and have every woman hate you because one of their husbands is a slag.” You took a breath hating the way your heart ached at others unkindness.

“I won’t do anything rash. I promise.” John leaned forward over the cooler awkwardly to kiss you on the cheek.

“Do I come off as a-“

“Don’t even go there. You’re dressed like everyone else here. Such a shame you just happen to be hot.” John purred the words at you and for some reason the flirtation made you feel better. The lack of confidence you felt before was gone and you were okay in your own skin again. John was right all the other women were dressed similarly some in more revealing clothes.

“Thank you.” You whispered against his lips as he kissed you again.

“No, thank you for putting up with my protectiveness.” John grinned. Breaking away you whispered in earnest.

“I can’t say its a real problem considering how amazing it is for the kids.” You tried to bite back your smirk but John’s laugh had you breaking.

———-

Jj was standing by one of the concession stand as he watched from a distance as his little sister laughed with her group of friends. It was his duty as an older brother to make sure she was safe. That was what his dad had left him in charge of when he wasn’t there. Jj was hidden between two booths loving the solitude so he could fully enjoy his dessert. The snow cone in his hand was half way gone as Lucas walked by and caught sight of him.

“Oi, guys I found Price!” The red headed boy pointed between the two tents to where Jj stood.

Walking out into the dirt path Jj smiled as the group of three boys from his class ran over. Looking around Jj realized none of his friends were in sight which put him on guard. Lucas was a bully and he liked to target Jj and he’d do that by ganging up on him or teasing his sister until she cried.

“How’s your mom?” One of the boys asked and his words came off teasing which Jj didn’t understand why.

“Good I think.” Jj said skeptically taking another bite of his snow cone.

“Ya’know my dad was saying how hot your mom is. To bad you don’t have a dad.” Lucas sniped. Jj’s stomach immediately turned hearing something so crude about his mom.

“Maybe your dad will date her.” The blonde boy added.

“I have a dad!” Jj stepped up to Lucas. This wasn’t the first time the two boys had gotten into a verbal altercation in fact their teachers had to make sure they weren’t in the same classes. They fought like cats and dogs and you were tired of being called to the principles office because of it. Your words rang loud in Jj’s head and he knew he should walk away.

“Isn’t he off getting blown up?” Lucas shoved Jj at the shoulders making him step back slightly.

“Don’t worry my dad will take care of your m-“ Jj didn’t allow Lucas to say another word. Jj was suppose to be a protector like his dad and he couldn’t let people talk about his mom that way. So he decided this was the perfect time for retaliation. He cocked his shoulder back and smacked his snow cone into the approaching boys face. The slush splattered everywhere getting bits of blue ice on Jj’s orange shirt. The group of onlooking boys hollered and cheered as a fight ensued, the two boys started to wrestle each other. Throwing punches and kicks where they could fit it in.

From a distance you and John witnessed your son line driving his sweet into a classmates face. Your jaw dropped with the cooler to the ground. Stunned you stood there feet rooted as your husband jumped over the white tub and beelined it toward the brawl.

Another father was already there as John pried his son off the red headed boy. Lucas was in a heap on the ground crying and holding his bloody nose. Babbling out how the Price boy had started it. The other father was the man John met who was helping you by your car. Dan, right?

“What is wrong with you?” Lucas father yelled and was staring daggers at Jj. Helping his son up and onto his feet. “Stop crying, Lucas!” He shouted at his son.

“You’re the one who said gross stuff about my mum! I should kick your ass t-“ Johns hand clamped over his sons mouth before he could say another word. When John decided to come surprise his family at the fair this was not what he was expecting. He honestly thought he’d be leaving a hero to his kids because he was going to win them cool prizes or let them eat their weight in sweets.

“I’m sorry.” Was all John said as he lightly guided Jj away from the now on looking crowd. John had to take a breath as to not loose his temper. That was until he was shoved hard from behind.

The force had John stumbling slightly his fight instinct kicking in. Jj was ready to throw punches again but Price caught him by the collar and tugged him behind him. Turning around Lucas father flinched at the sight of your hulking husband. John’s face was angrier than he liked to admit as he stuck his finger in the other fathers face. Blue eyes becoming dark with a violence only men who’ve seen war possessed.

“I suggest you don’t do that again. We’re here to set a good example for the kids.” John’s voice was low and gravely. People were watching and listening so he knew he had to be the bigger man. Taking one more step forward John whispered so only Dan could hear him.

“Keep my wife’s name out of your mouth.” It immediately had the other father backing off. Something about the way he said it was even more intimidating. Like there was an undertone of a threat in the simple words.

Taking Jj’s hand John lead him over to where you and Evelyn were. Your daughter was sitting on a park bench and you were already speaking to the principle. Jj and Evelyn caught eyes and she shook her head back and forth as to tell him this wasn’t good.

“Mrs. Price both boys are looking at expulsion. We do not tolerate violence.”

“I swear it won’t happen again.” You were pleading to not have your little boy thrown out from school.

“Jj stay with your mum. Could I have a word with you Principle Stein?” The older gentleman shook his head and took a few steps away to chat with your husband in private. You sighed in relief and gave your son a death glare.

“The boys father has said some crude things about my wife and his son was retelling it to Jj. I’ll set him straight and make sure he doesn’t ever do what he just did again.” Johns words were sincere and it seemed the Principle was softening.

“No second chances.” He warned.

“Understood, sir.” John shook the older gentleman’s hand and headed back to his family. You were squatting in front of your son trying to get the blue stains out of his t-shirt. While rambling on about how violence is never the answer. John’s heart began to ache at his sons quivering bottom lip. Jj was just like the pair of you; always trying to hold strong and be tough.

“No need to be tough today, lad. You’ve done enough of that.” John’s heavy hand fell onto the thick tufts of hair on Jj’s head.

“I’m sorry, dad.” The young boys cloudy blue eyes were fixed on his shoes.

“C’mon you’re riding home with me.” John motioned for the little boy to follow.

“John.” You grabbed your husband by his forearm and took a step away.

“Talk some sense into him. I have no idea where that came from I’ve never seen our boy hurt a fly. I’m so beside myself I-“

“Darling, I’ll take care of it.” John gave you a quick kiss to the lips. Seeing out of the corner of his eye a few of the mothers staring intently.

“Thank you.” You whispered as you watched your husband and son head towards the parking lot.

“You weren’t kidding when you said your husband was an absolute stud.” Kaitlin another mom was by your side. You couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your chest. John always had a way of dealing with things and deescalating a bad situation. You were relieved that this happened on a day he was here because you would not have know what to do.

————-

“So your not mad at me?” Jj was looking around the ice cream parlor taking in the colorful decor as he sat next to his father at the bar. The squishy red stools swiveled under his stained shorts.

“I’m proud of you for sticking up for your mum.” John nodded smiling to himself. He pointed at the menu as a waitress came by and she nodded with a smile saying she’d be right back with his order.

“Really? But I punched a kid in the face.” Jj’s blue eyes were fixed on his father with confusion. The boy listened intently as the man he idolized spoke.

“Really. You can’t get into a fight again you’ll be expelled. Come to me and I’ll deal with it okay?” John placed his hand on the young boy shoulder to emphasize his point.

“Okay.” Jj’s eyes went wide as a large three scoop sundae with whipped cream and hot fudge was placed in front of him. Checking with his father John nodded for him to dig in.

“Don’t tell your mum. If she asks tell her I scolded you the whole time.” John knew he was going against what you would see fit. But he couldn’t help the pride he felt that his son stood up to a bully and was even ready to go after the bully’s dad for saying shit.

“I thought we don’t lie to mum.” The words came out muffled as Jj shoved ice cream into his mouth.

“Just this once. We don’t need her angry at the both of us.” John picked up a spoon and began sharing the decadent sundae with his little boy.

“Yeah she’s kinda scary sometimes.”

————-

“So, Jj said you scolded him the entire ride home.” You were sitting in your king sized bed as John took his spot next to you. The house was quite now and the kids were fast asleep.

“Yeah, made sure he got the message.” Was all John said as he settled his bare back against the headboard.

“Really?” You asked skeptically. By the way your eyebrow quirked John knew he was caught.

“Yeah?” He tried to avoid your eyes and he grabbed his book from the night stand flicking to his dog earned page.

“Because when he told me he had the biggest smile on his face and a smudge of chocolate on his chin.” Your words were prying for John to tell you the truth so he caved.

“Took him to get ice cream.” John turned making eye contact with you. The look in your eyes was one of amusement.

“You’re not mad?” He asked a little taken aback.

“Your his father and if that’s how you think the message will get through to him, I trust you.” You took your husbands hand and he brought your palm to his lips, giving the soft skin a sweet kiss.

“I also don’t think any of those creeps are going to help me anymore. As soon as you left they were all avoiding me.” You giggled out. “Mission accomplished Captain!” You tacked on for humor.

“Good.” John smiled patting you thigh under the thick duvet.

“I think the moms are starting a little fan club in your honor though.” Your words were laced in mischief as you scooted closer to you burly handsome man.

“Piss off.” John snorted out a laugh.

“Oh I’m not kidding! Soon I’m going to have to be batting these women off like you did with those guys.” You had John snickering to himself now.

“You’re all I want, love.” He leaned in placing a kiss to your shoulder.

“I know. Now how about you make good on the promise from this morning.” Biting you lip you flirted.

“Oh you want me that bad?” John purred pulling you closer and crawling on top of you.

[jude-duarte-wannabe]

welcome to the bakery

currently playing; the bakery by melanie martinez "pack it, box it, flip it, top it... the bakery, i'm tryna make some more"

this was inspired by @bunnys-kisses so go check out their page, such incredible stuff <3

when you request, please make sure to let me know if it's from my smut prompts or my soft ones [soft request prompts are still in the works]

hey lovely, how can i help? may i take your order? what do you feel like today? personally i'm in need of some iced tea and all you have to do is pick a dessert, drink and server of your choosing please, please, please don't forget to indicate who you want me to write about!! also please keep in mind that i haven't written anything in a while so it might take a bit for me to back into the groove of it. <3

the bakeries i currently have open are: formula one, resident evil, bridgerton and criminal minds, just for now.[but i am open to any other fandoms you might have in mind! please do not hesitate to ask!!]

the servers i'm currently writing for include; charles leclerc, carlos sainz, lewis hamiltion, pierre gasly, lando norris, max verstappen, oscar piastri, leon kennedy, carlos oliveria, chris redfield, anthony bridgerton, benedict bridgerton, colin bridgerton, spencer reid, aaron hotchner and luke alvez.

i do also accept polyam relationships! [pairing + reader] but only three people just to make it manageable on my end!

all orders can be made to the inbox for @jude-duarte-wannabe and i'll get your order together when i can also let me know if you want your order to...

be extra hot; real smutty or have sweetener; extra fluffy

let me know if want to be added to my taglist by commenting <3 followed by the person.

the bakery menu;

pound cake; "i can be rough and i don't want to hurt you"

churro's; "does my sweet boy need comforting"

cheese scone; "let your brother find out, i don't fucking care"

mille-feuille; "that's it, shit, such a good fucking girl"

cinnamon buns; "no promises"

gingerbread; "i mean i would totally make out with her/him but like platonically, you know"

baguette; "give me a minute, i really need to tickle the shit out of you"

pretzel; "i was never meant to fall for you"

cornbread; "you taste really good"

strawberry shortcake; "he's so cute, i really want to bite him"

soda bread; "wait a second... am i your lockscreen'

focaccia; "i could beat the shit out of you" "i know"

choux pastry; "i can't believe i ever loved you"

pumpkin muffin; "shut up... my girls asleep"

dinner roll; "holy shit, you still love him/her"

cakepop; "goodnight to my future wife, fuck the rest of you"

pull apart bread; "i love you"

souffle; "i'll be gentle"

powdered doughnuts; "marry me"

s'more; "the accent got to you, didn't it"

waffles; "you spill a single fucking drop and we're starting again"

shortbread biscuits; "if he pisses me off again, i'm fucking his girl"

red velvet cupcake; "does he know that i cum deep inside his little angel'

pancakes; "no, we can't, not here"

coffee cake; "i need to breed you"

french toast; "i don't think it'll fit"

crepes; "go back to sleep, you don't need to be awake for this sweetcheeks"

sweet pastry; "i'm trying to get you pregnant, now shut up and let me concentrate"

butter tart; "stop, don't fake it"

sugar pie; "stop wriggling"

zebra cake; "i'll make it fit"

carrot cake; "dirty girl"

date scone; "i'm going to make you a mama and your going to make me a daddy"

cookie; "do you feel that, how fucking deep i am"

brownie; "no fucking touching"

cheesecake; "don't yell at me"

pumpkin pie; "are you nibbling on me"

chocolate cake; "i'll use protection, i promise"

spice pie; "i wonder if your brother know that i cum inside you"

apple crumble; "i can't do this while you cat/dog is watching"

sausage roll; "i hate being your secret"

blueberry slice; "but what if somebody see's"

mushroom pie; "that looks like it hurt"

apple tart; "what do you mean you want me to choke you"

lemon slice; "i forget how small you are sometimes"

swiss roll; "your glasses are fogging up"

truffle; "send me an audio of you moaning"

oaty slice; "you smell like me"

cream puff; "this ends when your pregnant"

custard slice; "no hiding your face"

victoria sponge; "you wanna hold my hand"

english muffin; "i could die between these legs"

bagel; "where you going, this ain't over"

banana bread; "i can't believe you broke my bed"

hot cross buns; "i'll pay for the damages"

apple turnover; "can you keep it down"

fudge; "what do you mean noise complaint"

peach cake; "i've never done this"

tiramisu; "how could you be so stupid"

crumb cake; "nobody has to know"

custard tart; "you gonna let me cum inside"

date pudding; "your going to let me rawdog you, oh fuck"

mince pie; "so fucking dumb"

angel food cake; "did you just squirt, since when could you do that"

savory scroll; "stop stressing, i'm not going to post it"

chocolate chip cookie; "did you just call me pretty boy"

croissant; "don't you dare"

elcairs; "don't, leave them on"

chocolate mousse; "i'm sorry"

boston cream pie; "fuck it's dripping down your legs"

and to drink;

coffee; somnophilia kink

tea; semi public

juice; breeding kink

mocha; daddy kink

peppermint tea; mommy kink

vodka shot; rough sex

sparkling water; gentle sex

oat milk; one night stand

soy milk; friends with benefits

coconut milk; friends to lovers

almond milk; grumpy x sunshine

energy drink; doggy style

turmeric latte; fake dating

cold brew; possessive

espresso shot; dirty talking

chamomile tea; choking kink

glass of water; aftercare

herbal tea; soft but only for you

milkshake; size kink

pina colada; pregnancy

matcha latte; mixed with smau

cider; body worship

mai tai; loss of virginity

margarita; unprotected sex

chai; biting or hickeys [please let me know which]

earl grey; big cock

tonic water; age gap

soda; protected sex

root beer; caught in the act

americano; oral sex

whiskey; degrading language

vitamin water; dom/sub dynamics

irish coffee; drunk sex

lemon water; secret relationship

dark roast; sub character

hot chocolate; sub reader

iced tea; accentally leaking relationship

flat white; brothers best friend

iced latte; best friends brother

iced mocha latte; plus sized reader

smoothie; belly bulge

doppio coffee; wall sex

green tea; spiting kink

cortado; belly kisses

affogato; a bet

lemon ginger tea; single mom/dad

berry smoothie; accidental pregnancy

sunshine smoothies; fake dating

cappuccino; secret baby

rice milk; baby fever

cashew milk; somebody flirts with your bf/gf

iced chai; forehead kisses

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: HBO show

King: guys, did you hear that there's a new harry potter series on HBO? Barker: steve i could not care less because i am not a child Barker: i'm an adult and when i want to watch a show about child wizards going to school Barker: i watch a show about child wizards going to school that's for adults King: King: King: ok uh well anyway

King: guys i'm really conflicted about this new harry potter series King: i heard that JK Rowling was using the money to buy a giant meat grinder to turn trans people into sausage Barker: i don't think she's doing that, steve King: oh, no? so you're saying it's actually 100% okay to support this new harry potter series? Barker: i didn't say- King: Phew! let me tell you, THAT is a relief!

King: this was a real dilemma! one the one hand, JK Rowling uses her money to fund transphobia King: but on the other, i still have this super cool Gryffindor scarf King: i mean, it's got the right colors and everything King: it would be such a waste not to wear it…

Barker: steve, i think you should really think about what kind of message that sends King: oh right right yeah King: you're right of course King: well, i off to maine Barker: steve Barker: the scarf is still around your neck

King: huh? what? oh King: isn't that odd King: [fingering scarf] yet… after all… why not King: why shouldn't I keep it?!

Barker: i think you should leave the scarf behind King: bah! what business is it of yours what i do with my own things?! Barker: there's no need to get angry King: YOU WANT IT FOR YOURSELF!! Barker: STEPHEN H. KING Barker: DO NOT TAKE ME FOR SOME CONJURER OF CHEAP TRICKS

JK Rowling: hello children Rowling: it'ssss me jk rowling Rowling: writer of the beloved manifesssto Harry Potter and the final ssolution

Barker: oh you're back? don't you have some tweeting to do? Rowling: no, twitter's not really fun anymore Rowling: there jusst aren't a lot of trans people to yell at there anymore Barker: aw that's a real shame Rowling: i mean Rowling: i tried yelling at sspooniess and fat people Rowling: but it'ss jusst not the sssame

Rowling: i'm proud to sssay that i'm going to be intimately involved in the new harry potter ssseriesss Rowling: HBO thinksss I've got a lot to contribute Rowling: now that fassscisssm is cool again, assssociation with the Rowling name is a pluss!

Rowling: ha ha ha! you thought it was all over for ol' JK Rowling! Rowling: little did you know that all i had to do was wait for the complete collapse of the liberal democratic consensus and the return of violent populism and then my particularly british brand of stochastic terrorism would be back in vogue!

Rowling: joke'ssss on you! ha ha ha! Poe: yeah i guess it is Poe: Poe: boy it feels bad Rowling: ha ha ha!!! lick it up, bitch!! LICK! IT! UP!

Rowling: i hope you're posting this on bluesky! i really want to see what the no-avi accounts with names like "politically homeless twitter refugee" and "Sebastian gorka daddy complex" have to say! Rowling: and don't even think of blocking them without engaging! Poe: why not? Rowling: cuz Rowling: Rowling: cuz it's not fair, okay?!?!?

Rowling: you can bet that i'll be keeping a close eye on things over at HBO Rowling: especially on these child actorss Rowling: in case they do a gender nonconformity Rowling: we're building campsss right now to deal with the problem Poe: King: Lovecraft: Koontz: Barker: Barker: jesus christ this is getting dark

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#384

“Fucking hell.  If it ain’t Wallace McGrew’s oldest boy!…  Ryan, you did good.  Fuck yeah you did.  I can’t think of anything else that I would enjoy more for my 65th birthday....

 “TJ, did you know about this?...  I’m surprised you two kept this secret so well.  So is he a true faggot or one that you made?...  Well I’ll be damned, Wallace raised himself a screaming sperm burper, and that knob gobbler is standing before us, bound spread eagled, collared, gagged,…  plugged too.  All for me.  Fucking hell Ryan, you couldn’t have done any better with this year’s birthday cunt….

“…So you are the son of Wally?...  Just nod….  Good.  Do you know who I am?...  I would have been surprised that you hadn’t.  What about my ranch manager TJ?...  No.  Did you know Ryan was my boy?...  No.  Good.

“Ryan, why isn’t his pecker caged?  That’s one hell of a raging hard-on….  This faggot’s pecker is like steel….  It’s a good five- or six-incher.  It doesn’t look like he’s on any hard-on medication.  That’s all natural.  Goddamn!  This boy is leaking up a storm.  Now I understand why you didn’t put a cage on him.

“Why don’t you two bring the fuck table over and secure him bent over.  Nice body.  Ryan, you did a good job shaving him….  What?  You didn’t shave him?...  Well that’s interesting. 

“Look at that ass.  See those purple marks on his left cheek.  Those are scars from a savage whipping.  His back has healed up, but I can still see some marks.

“Faggot, you have played before, haven’t you?  It’s obvious you are a faggot.  But you have been beat before, right?  I mean a man has inflicted pain on you for his own enjoyment?...  Did your daddy do this to you?...  No?  Too bad.  You would have been a lot more interesting if he did.

“Fucking hell.  This changes things.

“Ryan, TJ, fuck him.  TJ you go first.  Be quick about it.  Ryan, yank out the plug and let me see it….  It’s spotless.  Did you clean him out?...  So the faggot was prepared….  Actually that doesn’t surprise me.  TJ, just shove it in and go to town.  Be rough on the fag’s cunt.  I want you to cum quick.

“Ryan, show me the video of him….  Wow, the faggot knows how to service your fat pud.  Look at him go.  That’s one hungry fag boy.

“Hey faggot, have you seen this?...  Look at how you throat Ryan’s sausage with ease.  I’m actually impressed here.  I know it’s hard to focus on the video with TJ plowing your twat.  He’ll be done soon.  He’s already started picking up the pace. 

“Look at your face here.  That is the face of a true faggot.  You are in ecstasy slobbering on Ryan’s cock….  You seem to have no trouble with his fat pud.  Most faggots struggle with throating him.

“Oh fuck here goes TJ!...  Damn!  He really came hard.

“TJ!  Pull out so Ryan can take over. 

“Ryan, go in hard and don’t let up.  Get your nut quick then you and TJ can get out of here.  I want to spend some alone time with my birthday present. 

“Hey faggot, the cock filling your mouth in the video is plowing your cunt.  You are kinda getting it from both ends from the same dick….

“Ryan, you should see his face right now.  He’s not struggling like the others.  It appears that Wally McGrew’s son is a seasoned cum dump whore.  I take it that he’s loose?...  Typical.

“Faggot.  When a man, a real man, is going to fuck you, you need to provide a hole that will provide him pleasure.  So tighten up that cunt….  Well, that got a smile out of Ryan….  He’s picking up his pile driving.  Hear that?  That’s the sound of a two hundred fifty-pound man grunting as he’s slamming into your loose cunt.  No better sound in the world.

“Shoot!  Shoot!  Flood this faggot’s guts….  Atta boy!  Fuck yeah.

“Faggot, clamp down as Ryan pulls out.  I want your cunt full of spunk.  Ryan is known for two things, his big dick and his huge loads….

“What’s that Ryan?...  Finish watching the video?  OK.  And I want to be alone with the faggot.  Plug up the faggot’s cunt, then go wait for me in TJ’s house.  Don’t get dressed, and don’t wipe your cock.  The fag will suck clean whatever dried slime flakes remain on it in a bit.  Now go. 

“…So here we are faggot, just you and me.  I have to admit, I was truly surprised.  Not that Ryan snagged Wallace McGrew’s son as my birthday present, although that did surprise me a little.  No, what shocked me is that Wally’s son has experience, lots of it, as a slave. 

“From the scars on your ass and back to your worked over nips, to the fact that you didn’t even flinch when Ryan shoved his beer can cock into your cunt, and to the compliance I saw as they were resecuring your bonds, I can tell you have done this before.  It’s more than that.  The look of ecstasy on your face as this was going on, wasn’t a look of ‘this-feels-so-good,’ but rather one of being in a submissive headspace.  I can tell that no matter what I do to you, what pain I will cause, you are suffering for my desires, and it naturally centers your mind.

“Am I right?  Nod yes or no….  Yeah, I see you.  You are clear to me.  I knew you weren’t a pain pig—a fag that is into receiving pain for pain sake.  Pain pigs bore me beyond the first few minutes I’m with them.  Yeah, if I need to get off, they serve their function.  But you need to connect on a much deeper level, craving to offer your pain and suffering for a higher purpose.

“You understand what I am saying.  Knowing that I—a naturally superior man—am getting my primal needs met by your service,… your submission,… your sacrifice,… and your suffering is all the motivation you need to continue.  You don’t want the pain, but knowing it’s getting me to leak, makes you want it more.  It may be confusing to many, but to you it makes all the sense in the world. 

“I’m always looking for a faggot with this mindset.  I have found a few in my time, never would have guessed that Wally’s boy would be one of them.

“Let me take my cock out….  Look down.  I am rock hard and leaking.  And I see you are too.  So it is safe to say that even though we never really met before, I know you.  I really know you.

“Let me ask you faggot, you want to serve me?...

“Submit to me?...

“Sacrifice for me?...

“Suffer for me?...

“Good.  Faggots like you are hard to find.  I thought Ryan was one when I met him eleven years ago.  It was clear that he did not have that mindset.  But he connected with me so well on so many other things, that we developed into something else. 

“He still serves me and helps me satisfy my cruel sadistic side.  He’s definitely my beta boy.  That’s what’s his groove is.  He likes to bring me objects like yourself so that I can enjoy the way I want to, that I need to.

“Hell, he’s the one who set up this birthday tradition of offering faggots like you.  He goes to Denver, and he takes his time to find the victim.  When my day arrives, I make the trek here to PJ’s ranch outside the city for the reveal.

“He doesn’t go into much detail with me because it’s my birthday present after all.  But I do know that this is a long process for him.  And I have to say the slave cunts he offers me has been perfect, yourself included.

“The one thing that he does with each faggot he offers is to make a video of the fag willingly sucking him off to completion.  He told me that he uses the fag’s phone to record it leading the fag to agree to the filming.  And he always manages to send himself a copy for me to view later.

“Like this video of you expertly throating Ryan’s mammoth cock.  You are a true world class cocksucker. 

“These videos are great.  They provide the motivation for the faggot’s entire time here.  Oh, I forgot to mention, every birthday present is closeted, just like yourself.  If the faggot does not perform to my satisfaction at any time, that video is sent off to where it will have the biggest impact: boss, wife, girlfriend, or—in your case—dad.

“Yes, the intention was to coerce you into submitting to me.  But that all changed in the few minutes when I recognized your true nature.  I don’t feel like coercion is possible; your hunger has been visible all this time.

“But don’t worry.  I will be outing you to your dad.  There is no way in hell that I am not going to pass up that opportunity.  Regardless of whether you make my cut, he’s going to receive a video.

“A word of caution: don’t even think of begging me not to.  Begging is a form of selfishness, and I do not deal with selfish slaves, faggots, or cunts.  You understand?

“No don’t try to say ‘Yes Sir’ around a gag.  The primary reason why I gag faggots like you is that I don’t want to hear the shit that comes out of your mouth. 

“A sharp nod ‘Yes’ is all that’s needed.  It needs to be a quick down then up, and it’s in that order.  Show me….  Good.  Remember that.  A sharp ‘No’ shake would be used in the rare occasion I allow a ‘No’ from you.  If your head is secured, then nod with your eyes.  If you are blindfolded, fuck it, I don’t need to hear from you.

“You will be staying with me for the weekend.  I can see your mind is where it needs to be.  I will be testing out your body’s response.  You will be filmed doing some extreme kink.  I’ll figure what I will use to show your dad.  The ability to fuck over Wally McGrew is the best birthday present I could get.

“Did you know he outed me to the whole town once he caught me plowing one of his farm hands?  That cost me a lot of business.  The worst part was his smug demeanor he had about town; being all righteous looking down at me.  Now I get to tell him his son is a piss drinking, sperm farting, ass eating, cum dump faggot.  It won’t be just him, our little town will know. 

“Oh I got it.  I will show your video to Dwight Smith the barber.  You dad goes in once a week on Thursday for a beard trim like clockwork.  I’ll make sure to be showing Dwight as your dad comes in.  Fuck yeah. 

“This will happen.  Nothing, and I mean nothing, will prevent me from outing you.

“I’m so fucking horny now.  First things first, let me unsecure you.  I want you to stand in the center.  Don’t try to run.  I don’t believe for one bit you are going to try to bail, but one thing I have learned over the years is never—and I mean never—trust a faggot slave.  And I don’t you.  Trust is something earned over a long time serving. 

“You have no shoes, and there’s lots of rocks on the ground; you won’t get very far.  Besides, these ankle and wrist cuffs that are padlocked on you have a tracking device.  So does that shock collar locked around your neck.

“Get over here and help me take my boots off….  That brought a smile to your face.  Just set them aside.  I’m going back in them once I take off my jeans and boxers.  Here, smell my foot.  Inhale deeply.  Better than any poppers out there.  Now my pants. 

“I see you eyeing my bulge.  Faggot, that is the center of your world from now on.  Go on and touch it; I know you want to.  But only briefly.  Now pull down my boxers.  Look at my cock.  It’s not as thick as Ryan’s, but mine is a bit longer.  It stays hard longer, and I can cum multiple times.

“Sniff my shorts, especially the tiny skid mark.  You are going to intimately know my shithole going forward.  Now help me put my boots back on….

“…Don’t worry, your tongue will be exploring my boots later.  But now, hand me my belt from my jeans.  Good.  Now go stand in the middle over there.

“Raise both arms above your head.  Keep them up there.  Today is my 65th birthday.  It is a birthday tradition that there needs to be birthday beatings.  Spankings are so pointless.  A good ol’ fashioned ass lickin’ is more in line with what is needed.  And there is no way that my ass is going to receive an ass lickin’ of any type other than with your tongue.  So that means you are the one who will be on the receiving end of said beatings.  65 of them.  I want you to count.  Make sure those numbers are clearly announced around that gag.

“I would ask if you were ready, but your dick is leaking harder than I have seen it before.  Look at my cock.  It too is leaking.  We are both ready to do this.  Let’s get some active welts going. 

“Now don’t fucking move from that spot.  No matter what I do to you, remain there. 

“One!  Holy shit!  That one was perfect across your ass.  You will learn, I don’t ramp up my intensity.  The first is as cruel as the last.  But this one landed perfectly across both cheeks.  Oh fuck, I already broke skin. 

“Cry all you need to boy.  I’ve only just begun.  Oh look!  There’s some blood.  Fuck yeah.  “And know this faggot, you are making me one happy man.”

[athletickat]

Fic Rec 2025 (AO3 masterlist)

Hey girls and gays. So, it's been 5 years since I started reading fan fiction, and I honestly did not think it would take me this far. I started out as reading only Dramione and Harry Potter fics, but then I got into anime and thought hey what the hell there are probably some bomb ass fics out there... and I was right 😏. I'm just a simple girl who loves reading about 2 hot men (sometimes 3) getting in seriously messed up relationships with each other, and I figured I should share my obsession with the world (bc I KNOW I'm not the only one). I have indulged and devoured fics from lots of fandoms (mainly MHA , AOT, and Haikyu!!), and I want to rec and review my fav fics I've read for the people out there who love gay shit and have way too much time on their hands 😌

My full bookmark list on AO3 My Dramione Fic Recs 2020 and 2021

So without further ado here's my fic master list...

AOT Fandom 

featuring...

Ereri   Eruri Erwin/Eren/Levi (when you want some spice) 😏

Is there a difference between Riren and Ereri?? I didn't know. I'm into both Riren and Ereri, so take your pick!

Okay before people start saying shit, I was against Ereri at first too. I thought why do I want to read something that ships a 15-year-old with a 30-year-old, plus the first scene they had together was Levi beating Eren’s ass, and not in a sexy way. I tried to get into Eruri fics, but I didn't like the dynamics the two characters had with each other, so I circled back to Levi and Eren. Turns out I like reading ships with a nontoxic (...okay sometimes toxic) power imbalance and characters who are so fucked up and traumatized they can’t help but need each other. Hence angsty, dark, sexy, and fluffy Ereri fics at your service. I give some love to Erwin in there, don’t worry though. I stopped really thinking about the age difference thing bc it's fiction, and in my pretty little head, I'm imagining two grown fine-ass men with fucked up personalities and attachment issues going at it. So, Suck it!

Ereri

Good Enough to Eat by @wasterella

A/B/O fic, but like werewolves. This is the first fic in this fandom that I ate TF UP. This was my breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert for 2 days. Fabulous fic. The plot is insane and very well-paced. Definitely a top-tier Ereri fic. 

In this Life, And the Next by HBJenko

Another top-tier Ereri fic. Like seriously this is one of the best fics I've ever read, in all fandoms I've read. It’s so fucking good, you guys. Please read it. Canon relationship but realistic and lines up with the anime. Sex scenes are amazing, fight scenes are fab, fluff and angst is so good it's upsetting. I’ve read it so many times. Also, *good fic to read for power bottom Levi stans 

1994 by Vee

A classic fic in the AOT fandom. Love all the relationships in this fic, not just Levi and Eren. Very cute and wholesome and the writing transports you into the story. Such a fun read, and another top tier fic

The Rest of Their Lives by folaigh

Age swap reincarnation fic– Levi is younger and trans, while Eren is older and takes care of Levi. The writing is impeccable and the concept is so unique and creative. Another Top-tier fic for me.

Accidental Captivation by @snakemittens

Really cute and light-hearted ABO fic. Dentist Levi is the hottest Levi. Very fluffy and smutty. Loved reading it 

Sugar on Top by @housewife-heichou

Sugar daddy fic (I swear this fandom really brought out a new monster in me). So hot and sexy. Levi is so daddy in this it's insane 

Deal With It by Corporal_Levi_cleans_my_house

Literally just ABO smut. Alpha Eren/Omega Levi. Very fluffy. Again it's literally just sex for like days and days. But it's hot. Like really hot 

Summer, Sweat, and Sausages by @momohime69

Good, fluffy, and lighthearted fic. So uwu. These boys are so cute in this one. A little summer fling with an older man never hurt nobody. Smut is 10/10. 

Shattered Façade by @bokusaka

One of the first Ereri fics that really stuck with me. Eren’s been through shit with his abusive ex and Levi helps and saves him – so good 

Normal by @chenziee 

Levi-centric one-shot. This shit was actually insane to read. One of the tags is psychopaths in love and it's on point. It was pretty weird, but sexy as fuck

Federkleid by @fairygardencorgis

This was honestly kind of a hard fic to get through, and made me uncomfortable at times – not because of Ereri, but because Eren’s story is so horrendous, traumatizing, graphic, and brutal that it’s hard to get through. It’s about his healing journey with the help of Levi. It angsty asf but has its moments of cuteness 

My Home Is Where Your Heart Is by @bfketh

Dad Levi (not Daddy Levi, sorry…). Mikasa is Levi’s daughter and Eren is her babysitter. Classic babysitter/parent trope. This was a cute one to read 

Let Me Help by @twisting_vine_x

Both babies can't sleep. BOOM! They share a bed… I wonder what will happen next 🤔 Good hurt/comfort fic where they heal through feeling safe with each other and sleeping (and a little light petting) 

lay with me, stay with me by folaigh

Cute, wholesome, asexual relationship one shot. Also they share a bed 😉

Giving Up the Ghost by folaigh

Levi falls in love with ghost Eren. Angsty asf. Get ready 

Night Drive by @astramachina

Good Boss/coworker fic. They love each other so much it hurts. Very angsty and sexy

Still a lover. by JupiterRose (TitanShifter94)

Disabled Levi one shot. Love this one because it shows love has no limits. Eren loves Levi the way he is even if Levi doesn’t love it himself 

It's Fine by taydrawrs

This one’s kind of crazy. Very naughty, but has its cute moments. Teacher/student AU one shot. The characters are aware they should not be doing this (but they do it anyway). Levi knows its bad to crush on his student; Eren knows it's bad to crush on his teacher. What will they do??? Very angsty fic. 

Lacuna by @vvonvoyage

Another ABO werewolf fic, not very lengthy but has a good plot and is worth the read 

Lights Out by @fluffyboots

This one is hmmm… idk how to describe it. somnophilia fic *eeeeek*... but like, kinda hot ngl. Just… try it out 

Erwin/Eren/Levi

Aegis of Two by @snakemittens

Papa Erwin. Daddy Levi. Sub Eren. Enough said (the spice level is through the roof 🔥). One of my favorite dom/sub fics out there.

Eruri (Levi/Erwin)

Irascible by bigasstrees, @tinyghoulproblem

I know it’s a popular one in this fandom, and now I know why. Detective AU with a slow burn and crazy twists from both Levi, Erwin and the plot. Very interesting read, had me hooked from start to finish! 

Primetime Authors: 

@mandrs-writes

Really good Ereri fics (my personal favs are Maneater and Misguided Ghosts) 

@snakemittens

Good author for AOT and MHA; love their writing; it’s very captivating and the smut is so sexy (thank you)

folaigh

There's like three stories in this list from them. Genius *chefs kiss*

Phew okay. There are more fics in my bookmark list on AO3. I have to make this tumblr post short and simple (not gonna happen)

On to the next fandom...

My Hero Academia

This is my first fandom I got into after Dramione, so I was a little hesitant to read the stories. I didn't have a specific ship in mind when I watched the show, and I love me some romance, but I knew I wanted to read some fics in this fandom. I mean the MHA concept is so cool with everyone having a quirk, and I knew there would be some gold mines... and I was right! I know the MHA fandom is little toxic and weird (sorry guys), but the fan fic stories are so so good, and I couldn't help but fall into a rabbit hole...

featuring...

TodoDeku TodoBaku Kacchako EndHawks

As you can probably tell, my smol bean Todoroki Shoto is my angel and I love him and his clueless, oblivious, devilishly handsome self, so here are some MHA fics that make me warm and fuzzy, including my other favorite smol beans

TodoDeku

Yesterday Upon the Stair by @pitviperofdoom 

Classic, everyone has probably read this, but I have to add it. This was the first fic I read in the MHA fandom and I really appreciated all the characters and the plot. 10/10. Comfort fic for sure and I love the TodoDeku in here. So smol. 

Schrödinger's cat by @aeronocacto

The second fic I ever read in the MHA fandom and I was hooked on TodoDeku and their smollness. This fic is one of my favorite fics EVER… it’s so good and so angsty, and so so creative. Love this one. 

home is just a room full of my safest sounds by @captainkirkk

TodoDeku cuddles to the MAX. This one shot is so fluffy and adorable. Such a cute read

Starved by @esselley

This was the first ABO fic I ever read besides a little dabble in Dramione stuff. Prince/Peasant vibes (and of course Shoto is the prince because he is a diva and wants what he wants). Very hot and smutty. 

prince & prince by @midoriyaizuhugs

Another royalty fic. The first fic in MHA where I spent all night reading it (more like devouring it). It was so fucking good. Long story but the plot is great and Prince Shoto is an actual diva in here. I’m in love with him. One of my fav TodoDeku stories. 

The Roundabout Way of Fate by @itsmyartfam

Healer Quirk Izuku. Very interesting plot and got me hooked instantly. Love the side characters and how they really snake the story pop. Another 10/10 read

Marking Boundaries by Gemsom

Another ABO fic. Literally, just smut. Alpha Todoroki, Omega Izuku. Both boys are idiots who fuck. 

Burn Your Wings by @crowbird-kamakse

Another popular fic in the fandom, and for good reason. Love the Icarus metaphor in this one. Couldn't stop reading. 10/10

State of Mind by @guardian-of-the-loaf

The plot of this one is really good and pretty angsty. The writing is superb and transports you to where the characters are and how they feel. I could easily imagine everything when I was reading, which i fucking love. Another 10/10 fic

Like Fractions (Baby We're Breaking Down) by @rayshippouuchiha

3 part story of full angst. Izuku and Shoto navigate UA together and it's very traumatic for both of them. A story about friendship and healing together. Love the angst in this one.

Better Than Fiction by @leisey

Literally made me laugh so hard. Izuku and Shoto are pining on each other and eventually find the world of fan fiction, and they fall down a rabbit hole (as one does). Had me kicking my feet and out of breath from laughing so hard. It was such a cute one shot, pls pls read it 100/10. 

 TodoBaku

sweet everythings by noxum

The first TodoBaku fic i read. Bakugo keeps calling Sho pet names and Sho secretly loves it. Literally made me feel so warm and fuzzy it's not even funny, it’s actually a bit pathetic. Just read it thx

Runnin' with the Devil by @esselley

Bakugo is a bad boy. Sho falls in love with him. Also Bakugo is a rockstar. They’re both so hot its not even funny. Great fic.  

Dance To This by justhavesex

ABO one shot with Omega Sho and Alpha Kats + pack dynamics. Very cute, fluffy, and funny with the whole cast 

I'll Sleep When I'm Dead by @iizukuus

Sho gets hit with a quirk and literally needs Katsuki to survive (goldmine!)

Eat You Alive by @saucybrtt

Post apocalyptic fic where Sho and Kats fight for their lives and for each other. Incomplete but very very good. 10/10

Mechanical Yarrow by redonthemoon 

No quirk AU, Bakugo is yet again a bad boy whose a mechanic and Sho falls in love with him (as would I Sho, as would I). Very cute read. 

april rain & winter flowers by todobakutodo hours (snowandfire)

Sho is not human and accidentally reveals it during sex to Kats (and he thinks its super hot) 

we're meant to make this love grow by lelex

Kats has a 5 year old kid. Shoto babysits him, and falls in love with his dad. Kats’s kid is obsessed with Sho (no surprise there), and very cute Kats and Sho dynamic. Daddy Katsuki! 

Kiss Me Too, Won't You? by Jumpingjedirose

First one shot I read where Bakugo is a main character. All three boys are in a relationship, and it’s so fluffy it’s to die for. It’s so fucking uwu its insane. 

Kacchako

How to Save A Hero by KacchakoFan2171

Ochako goes through some traumatic shit and learns how to heal and become a better version of herself. Basically, she’s a bad bitch. Kacchako in here is really cute and Bakugo is supportive and very cute in this. Lots of heavy topics and lots of angst. Another fic where I spent all night reading it. 

okay tumblr is not letting me do a huge long post for this (whatever 🙄😒). so I will have to continue this on another post... I have a couple more MHA fics (EndHawks), Haikyu!! fics, and fics from other random fandoms in PART 2.

[charlie-rulerofhell]

Sed Proditionem || chapter I Proditores non laudo

{or read it here on AO3}

So I said fine, 'cause that's how my daddy raised me. If they strike once then you just hit them twice as hard.

* * *

It was cold. The kind of coldness that would not give a shit about the fact that April was almost over. The kind of coldness where one could easily sweat themselves to death at noon, only to be tortured with the ice-shaped fingers of a biting breeze as soon as the sun went down. The kind of coldness that made one wish themselves close to a crackling fireplace, wrapped in a heavy fur coat or a blanket of the thickest sheepskin, with a mug of hot wine in both hands.

Hans was shivering like a cobweb in a storm, and he would have killed to be at some fireplace and enjoy a mug of wine. His growing discomfort, however, had little to do with the coldness and more with this whole plan that was by far the stupidest he had heard in a long time.

When Henry had come back from Kuttenberg and told Hans about his meeting with Žižka, Hans had been overflowing with joy like a trough in the rain. Henry had beamed from the same happiness. There had been worry in his eyes, too, how could there not with the growing political instability in this country, and the two of them, once again, being pulled right into the middle of it? But his mouth had formed a bright smile when he talked about Žižka and Katherine, and the rest of the old pack, and Christ, how quickly that glee had spread over to Hans. The last time they had met up with Žižka must have been over a year ago. Katherine had paid her latest visit to Rattay even long before that, accompanying some trader that, apparently, her and Žižka were after at the time, for some reason only they under­stood. Samuel had stayed in Kolín for the past seven years do­ing God knew what, but Hans didn't doubt that it was highly important, or that at least Sam thought so. Henry had visited him occasionally when they passed by Kolín on their way to Podiebrad, but Hans had always been too tied up both in political and family affairs to join him for a meetup. And Kubyenka and Janosh? Shit, the last time he had seen these two must have been at his own wedding! They had all been there, blessed be their souls, even the Devil, lousily disguised as a fisherman, as half the land was still after him. And what a cele­bration it had been, with the lot of them! Hans couldn't remem­ber half of that night, and there could be no clearer indication that it had been a fantastic one. Žižka had started some philoso­phical debate about the shape of clouds, while the Devil had threatened to crush someone's skull in. Sausages had been men­tioned at some point, though not by Janosh, and then Sam had danced on a table, and Katherine was dressed in a nun's dress, and Kubyenka with two kittens? They had all gone down to the stream to take a naked bath in the moonlight, even Godwin, although he had found a horse somewhere that he had ridden through the water as if he was Saint George himself, and then Henry had almost drowned in that waist-high piss. Katherine had disappeared at some point, and when Hans had later re­turned to his chambers, he had found her there, together with Jitka. Doing girl things, they said.

He had missed these times. Had missed them dearly over the last seven fucking years. Had thanked God for his divine dis­pensation bringing them all back together now. And then Žižka had let them in on the current situation and on his brilliant plan, and Hans had craved nothing more than to return to Rattay right on the spot. To sit down in front of a fireplace with some hot wine. To forget all of this had ever happened.

The Devil was dead. That didn't come as a surprise, Hans had known for almost two years now. He had been a thorn in the flesh of the Kunštát family for a long while, fighting his battles against Sigismund's army and then against Albert IV of Austria, raiding both Austrian and Moravian land, then joining the troops of duke Albert's very own son, a boy hardly of age but already a strong supporter of King Sigismund. Nobody had shed a tear over Hynek of Kunštát's death, Jitka's father Bot­schek had even found it necessary to hold a small celebratory feast when he heard the news, and many toasts were spoken to Hynek's sudden demise. Hans hadn't said a word, because how could he have? To him there was no Hynek, no traitor in the family. The only man that existed for him was the Devil, and the Devil had been a fucking bastard, yes, a ruthless murderer, but also an ally by whose side Hans had fought, someone he had shared more drinks with than with any man at this feast, and certainly more laughs.

So the news about the Devil's death wasn't surprising in the slightest. What did surprise Hans, however, was that Žižka mentioned it at all. He hadn't even breathed a word of it when he last spoke to Henry a few days ago, or back then in Rattay when he had come to see them both, only a week after it had happened. “And what does it even matter?” he had said now, both hands pressed flat on the table, his brow deeply furrowed. “He had been fed up with the pack for a long time before, and he chose to fight his own battles, with or against us. We won't need him for this task, just as we haven't needed him for the last six years.”

Only that he lied. It did matter, to him just as much as to the rest of them, because this cursed affiliation of vagabonds had never been Žižka's, had never called itself Žižka's pack. It had been Dry Devil holding them all together like sticky honey, and now that he was gone, all the burden was tossed entirely on Žižka's shoulders, and he had fallen under the weight like Jesus under the cross. Of course Žižka knew that. It was evident from the way he had fixed his eyes on Henry as he tried to convince the two of them that he did in fact not need the Devil by his side. Christ's wounds, everyone in the room knew it! Janosh was fiddling around with the buckle of one of his belts as if he wanted to knead pastries out of it. Godwin had stared some­where into the distance, his mouth slightly agape, as if he was silently reciting some prayer. Katherine had her arms folded and her gaze on Žižka alone. No matter how hopeless every­thing seemed to become, at least she wouldn't go anywhere, she wouldn't leave Žižka's side.

Kubyenka's eyes had been on his feet that nervously tapped up and down, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, but when Žižka spoke these last words, the Fuck him, fuck the Devil, we will manage just as good without him, if not even better, Kubyenka had finally looked up and his expression was one of anger and pain. “Don't you dare shit on his name like that, Žižka. God knows I love you, like an estranged brother even, but if you speak one more word like that, I won't be hol­ding myself back.”

“What? Is it not true then? Have I lied?” Žižka's voice had been shaking from anger, too, but it wasn't directed at Kubyen­ka. “Has he not been leaving the pack alone, has he not been cuddling up with the very man we fought against lately?”

“So what? The Devil was doing what we all are doing! Ta­king his sword where it is best paid for. This is not about mo­rality, it never had been. And all your late travels to Prague to listen to that Jan Hus preaching won't change that. We are mer­cenaries, first and foremost, and you should understand that better than all of us. Or do you seriously believe we don't know what you were doing up there in our Polish neighbour's lands just some months ago? Cuddling up with the enemy.”

Hans had in fact not known about it, but it made everything a lot clearer. He had been right then. This was a desperate at­tempt of Žižka's to bring the pack back together. Driven by bro­ken pride and a failing search for his own path. And something else. Rejection.

Žižka had narrowed his eyes so much that the left one al­most disappeared completely behind the scar. “Well, the Ger­mans declined my offer.”

Kubyenka had laughed, and it had sounded all shallow, a taunting display of disdain. “Lucky for us then.”

They had exchanged a few more silent looks that were so heated the whole room had felt like the fire of Hell. Then Žižka had glanced over at Katherine, and she had nodded, and he had taken a deep sigh and returned to his explanations as if nothing had happened. With King Wenceslas's sovereignty still being questioned, not only by Sigismund now but by the church, too, and with Poland fighting for its lands in the north, Bohemia was in a delicate position. And in the midst of this chaos, Jan Hus had emerged as an opposing voice against the clergy and a friend of the common people like the Messiah on the third day. Hans had only nodded in agreement. This wasn't new to him at all, he had heard it before, in all different tones and harmonies. Had heard it from Henry, who was affected by Jan Hus's postulations directly as a peasant, and indirectly through his father's support of Hus's side, and through Godwin, who had moved to Prague for this specific cause while still trying to meet up with Henry as often as he could. Hans had heard it from all different noblemen around the country, some showing great interest in Hus's stance against the church, some fearing for their own status and power with the growing unrest of their people. He had also heard it from Hanush, who was more often than not travelling out on his own account these days. Visiting some lords whose territories had been pestered by the plague of war and upheaval. Kindly talking to them and offering help, was what he called it. Threatening and robbing might have de­scribed it better.

In Prague, Jan Hus was still holding his chair as the rector of the university, protected by King Wenceslas himself, but that position was fickle. After his continuing defiance of the arch­bishop's prohibition to preach, and with the growing pressure on the King by both the bishops and the Holy Father himself – one of God only knew how many there were at this point! – the King could not uphold his support much longer. The people, on the other hand, loved Jan Hus and his ideas. Of course they did. More freedom might have been the one principle every human in this world could agree on. And that love made Hus all the more hated by those in power.

“We need to point the way,” Žižka had said. “Make them understand that Hus's theories are the only sensible response to the church's superior power and this whole schism that we are currently stuck in. We need to light a metaphorical and literal beacon of reason in these times. So. The plan is simple.” And then he had proceeded to lay down in great detail a plan that was as far away from simplicity as it could possibly get.

Hans wrapped his arms tighter around his body, letting his gaze wander up and down the gorge that Žižka had selected for this scheme. It had become almost too dark to see, the trees up above them forming a wall of shadows against a clouded sky. Just a few moments ago, some church bells in the distance had tolled for the evening prayer. St. Matthew's church, Hans had thought in a touch of melancholy, and then quickly discarded the idea. The bells of the newly built church in Vranov more likely. If anything, they'd rather be able to hear the church bells of Rowna near Skalitz than those of Rattay.

His eyes wandered over to Henry whose face was now eerily illuminated by the light of a lantern he had lit. Hans had offered to avoid Skalitz on their way to the set place, but Henry had ba­nished the thought immediately. It was the fastest route, he had said, and even though they had used horses until reaching Jezo­nice, just a short walk away from here, they couldn't afford to dawdle. Besides, he had added with a weak smile, he didn't in­sist on spending any more time in this itchy priest's cassock than was absolutely necessary.

Still he had kept his eyes lowered for most of the road that led around the ruins of Skalitz. Him and Hans had visited the place around a dozen times over the past years. To have an eye on the reconstruction of the village that was only progressing at a painfully slow pace. It never got easier.

“So.” Sam's voice echoed through the clearing like a cannon shot. “Can we discuss the plan once more?”

“You want to make sure everyone knows his task?”

The look that Sam regarded his brother with was as dead as that of a corpse. It didn't help that it seemed like he hadn't got a single hour of sleep in the last three days, ever since his arrival in Kuttenberg. “Oh, I do not doubt that. I just wanted to hear it again because I am still certain I must have missed the part that made you agree to this whole stupidity in the first place.”

“It is far from stupid,” Godwin objected, and he sounded like he didn't believe a single word he said. “Playing with the gullibility of people is actually a fool-proof plan, if you ask me.”

“If you manage to lead the conversation to that crucial part where you can play your little magic trick.” Hans took a deep breath, shifting his weight so that he moved a little closer to Sam. It felt good having at least one sane person on his side. The feigned optimism of the others back in Kuttenberg had been unbearable! “And given that you can get this Father Tho­mas to stop and have a little chat with you.”

Henry smiled, and the shadows of the lantern's light turned it into the wicked grin of a mummer's mask. “We are two un­armed priests on a pilgrimage. What could possibly unsettle them about us?”

“I tell you what unsettles me.” Hans could feel the whole si­tuation slowly taking a toll on his patience. “The word un­armed in that sentence of yours.”

“Clearly a priest won't attack other men of the cloth.”

“Well, maybe not, until those men of the cloth start talking about this great Jan Hus fellow that they met in Prague the other day. And about how his words must clearly be guided by God, because he gave them this glass ball, you see, and it glows and explodes whenever someone is using the true words of God, so you can know that it is nothing but the word of God that Jan Hus is preaching!”

Henry and Godwin exchanged a silent look that screamed louder than Hans had. When he turned back to him, Godwin shrugged his shoulders. “Well, we might be able to phrase it a little bit more convincing.”

“What if they don't even show up here?”

“Then we haven't lost anything either.”

Hans shook his head in disbelief. “What if Father Thomas shows up with more than four armed men? What if that little explosion won't make them believe in some divine intervention but in a secret attack on them?” His eyes wandered up to a spot between the trees' shadows that he couldn't make out from down here, but he had seen it before in the fading sunlight, had inspected it closely and shaken his head over it. “What if I don't hit that tiny thing, at this time of night, from that dis­tance?” I know that this is not your battle to fight in, Žižka had told him back in the church attic in Kuttenberg, and I would prefer it if I didn't have to drag you into this. But I need you for this task. After all, you're the best marksman I have.

“You will be here with us,” Henry said, and his voice was so soft and calm that it might have convinced Hans of everything he could have said. “You two will be hiding up there with our weapons at the ready. And Kubyenka and Janosh will guard the other side of the gorge. Six skilled fighters will be more than enough against four mercenaries, and a priest who will be get­ting in their way more than he will actually help them. You might as well have killed them all with your crossbow before one of them even gets the chance to draw his sword.”

“And what if they come prepared?” Sam's fingers were wrapped tightly around the handle of his left dagger as if he was ready to draw it here and now. “What if this Schwarzfeld has guided us right into a trap?”

Godwin straightened the fabric of his priest's robe. He made it seem nonchalant, but the time he took to reply betrayed his whole act. “Katherine and Žižka have both talked to Schwarz­feld themselves, and very extensively, I might add. We know that he is a small German lord who has always enjoyed many privileges from our King, while he has a hard time with the church due to the high charges the bishop imposes on him. So it seems like he has a lot of reason to support our cause. Do I trust him?” He shrugged his shoulders again. It was strange, Hans thought, how little the priest robe he had worn for so long suited him these days, how much weaker and older it made him seem. “What do I know! But I trust Katherine and Žižka and both their judgments.”

Hans shook his head. He could feel the weight of the cross­bow that was tied to his belt and understood now why Sam had his hand placed firmly on his weapon. A little bit of comfort, a shelter in this thunderstorm. “The whole plan is still totally mad. More so than anything Žižka has come up with before.”

“Doesn't feel so mad to me.” Henry smiled again. His eyes were warm and honest. “After all, it's nothing but simple alche­my.”

“Given I can hit the glass, without it being noticed by the priest or his men, and that this paste you smeared on my bolts actually does something to this strange smoke inside that phial.”

“It's finest firedamp, gathered from the mines. And since Sam took care of it, I'm sure it will work.”

Sam let out a hiss through his teeth that sounded almost like he had just exploded himself. “This gas might be the only part of the plan that I am convinced of.”

“We don't need your conviction.” Godwin stepped forward, and his voice was loud, demanding. “All we need is for you both to do as you're told and fulfil your task. Of the rest we take care of. Understood?”

Hans rolled his eyes, shook his head, and answered with a mocking “Yes, commander”. There was nothing else to do. Godwin and Henry were all too adamant about this anyway.

The grass was wet and bitingly cold, as he crawled up the slope to where he was supposed to hide between the trees, with Sam by his side. There was a fallen tree up here, that had de­cayed during the cold winter days, crumbling under his weight as he sat down on it, but at least it would keep his arse dry. Sam seemed to have no need for that and rather stayed in a squatting position a few feet away, one hand still on his dagger, the other wrapped around a sheathed longsword. His father's sword, and Sam's only duty tonight. To throw it down to Henry as soon as the slightest form of trouble arose.

Sam looked like a cocked crossbow himself, Hans thought. Every muscle tightened, ready to snap and jump. Or perhaps not so much like a crossbow, actually, and rather like the very thing a crossbow would be pointed at. A hare, surrounded by the hunter and his hounds. Lips pressed together tightly, eyes squinted. His face was half covered by the shadows of trees and bushes, and the faint moonlight only enhanced the hollow­ness of his cheeks and the dark rings under his eyes. A hare perhaps, but a very tired one.

“This whole plan hasn't given you much rest either, eh?”

Sam kept his eyes solely on the road below them on the bottom of the gorge. He also looked like he was in no mood for a conversation, but that had never bothered Hans before, espe­cially not when his own nervousness made him seek out the comfort of talk more than ever. “What plan? This trickery that is entirely built on the trust in a man we barely know?”

“Well, from what I understand Schwarzfeld is closely tied to this Father Thomas, who is in turn a member of the Prague sy­nod, the very one who stands strongly against Jan Hus, so he seems to be a suitable candidate to perform our trickery on. And since Schwarzfeld knows this priest so well, he should be able to convince him of going through these woods late at night to avoid the robber bands in this area.”

“Or at least so he claims.”

The road below them was empty now, not even the light of the lantern could be seen. Henry and Godwin had disappeared somewhere to the left, where they would wait until the carriage of Father Thomas and his mercenaries would appear in front of them. Only then would they set themselves into motion and act as if they had been walking all this time, on a pilgrimage from Prague, where Thomas was supposed to be returning to. And what great wonders they encountered there in the presence of Hus! What Hans hadn't given to change positions with Godwin now and be down there in priest robes next to Henry. Partly, because he knew how convincing Henry could be, and he would have loved to experience his act up close. Partly too, however, because he hated seeing Henry walk right into danger while being too far away to intervene when it all went to shit.

Above them, bats were screeching on their hunt for the first harbingers of summer, gnats. The air felt more like winter though, so freezing cold by now, that it lifted Hans's breath to the sky in the form of glistening clouds of smoke.

There was no such cloud in front of Sam's face, Hans no­ticed. Maybe all his insides had cooled down to ice a long time ago. “You aren't so keen on trusting, eh?”

“Does it surprise you?” Sam still didn't give Hans the ho­nour of looking at him. If he just loosened up a little bit, it might help him to enjoy something in life for once! After all, the only times Hans could remember ever seeing Henry's bro­ther truly happy was when he was drunk. “I have lived through more deceits and betrayals than you can even imagine.”

“Believe me, betrayal isn't such a strange concept to me ei­ther.”

“I doubt that you can compare that.”

And there it was again, so suddenly that it made Hans's heart stop for a moment or two. A face he had forgotten, a love he had sworn to never feel again, because how fucking much could this love hurt. Only Henry had managed to make him break this oath. Only for Henry had he opened his chest to the threat of being stabbed again, and he hadn't regretted this deci­sion once in the past seven years. And Henry had helped him heal, had shown him that it was not only possible but worth the risk to take down the walls he had built. That it was worth to trust, back then at Suchdol during that damned siege after Hans had found Samuel breaking into his room, and now it was Sam again who dragged these memories out of the deepest pits of his chest so they could torment him once more. The same hol­low cheeks, but eyes like the night sky. It wasn't fair, Hans thought. Because back then Samuel had said something that had proven any comparison to him wrong, had given Hans en­couragement, the sweetest gift ever given to him. He had tra­ded that gift of encouragement for Henry's love. Trust wasn't an easy task, Hans knew that too well. But Sam had taught him a lesson Hans would never forget. Don't make the same mistake I made. As a lily among thorns, so is my love.

Hans shook his head. The distorted face didn't disappear. Maybe it was the moonlight, he thought, that made Sam's eyes seem darker and larger too. He looked away. It wasn't fair, he thought again. Not to Sam, and not to himself. “Let's just agree that we know each other too little to judge that properly.”

The bats were screeching. A breeze bent the tops of the trees above their heads, carrying the smell of wet grass and blosso­ming flowers. The breeze was warm. It felt nice for the mo­ment, until it left a more piercing coldness than before once it was over.

“Look.” Hans could hear Sam sigh in annoyance when he started to speak again, but he would not stay quiet now, not when his hand was shaking and his heart was racing. It was way too cold for a late April night. “I agree with you that we shouldn't put our lives in the hands of someone we haven't even shared a drink with. But it's not really this Schwarzfeld guy that we're trusting here. It's Katherine and Žižka. If they are certain he told the truth, then I am certain of it too. Besides, Henry was right. We're all here to help them. You have his sword ready, I have my crossbow, Janosh and Kubyenka will strike from the other side. There's really not that much risk about this part of the plan.”

“If they appear.”

Hans pulled his knees closer to his body, wrapped his arms around them, hoping it would help him warm up if he twisted himself into a pretzel in the oven. “Well, otherwise we just freeze our arses off for nothing, I suppose.”

“I'm not talking about that priest.”

Hans narrowed his eyes, examining the forest on the other side of the gorge. He had never seen the ocean before, but this was what the authors in his books used to describe it as. Huge and unfathomable, engulfing and dark. The air smelled of grass and flowers and frost. A shiver crept down his spine. “They're clearly there already. We just cannot see them from here, be­cause it's simply too fucking dark.”

“Hm,” Sam made, and it sounded as weak as the wind.

Hans looked over to him again, and now Matej was gone. Too much scepticism, too little hatred. “Where do you think they are? Still in Uzhitz, having had one drink too many against the nervousness?”

“There are many possibilities.”

“Hm.” A sound out of Hans's own throat this time, he could feel it, but the voice was unfamiliar to him.

They sat in silence for a while, watching the emptiness. The bats were dashing across the sky, the leaves were rustling. Down below, the road remained deserted.

“Farkakte drek!”

Hans winced at Sam's sudden jump to his feet. Above them, a bird rushed away from its resting spot in the branches with a protesting caw.

“And this is what I left my people in Kolín for?”

“Keep it a little quieter, will you!”

“Why?” Sam flipped around to him as quickly as a bow­string let loose. “There is no one else here! Not down on that road and not over there in the forest either.”

“They are there.” It was a strange feeling, Hans thought, to always be the sensible one when he was with Sam. And he couldn't help but notice how much this role annoyed him. “The priest will show up too, we haven't even waited all that long. And then …”

“And then what? Then Henry will walk up to this galach and his four men to perform some little magic trick, dressed in nothing but these woollen robes!”

“He is used to such robes, believe me. Did you know that he lived in a monastery once, as a monk?”

“It is not about the robes, Hans.” He took a step closer to him now, his eyes hidden from the moonlight, painting them pitch black. “Žižka is using him as bait. Seven years, and no­thing has changed!”

“Žižka knows,” Hans tried to keep his voice as calm as he possibly could, “that Henry is capable of carrying out this plan. Probably the only one of us who could.”

“Žižka was desperate.” Sam's voice was as sharp as a blade, his accent more clear than ever now, every word coming down like a hammer. “Because the Devil is dead, the Teutonic order has rejected him, and half of his men are on the risk of leaving. If they haven't already.”

Hans took a deep breath. His annoyance about being the voice of reason wasn't helped by Sam reflecting his very own thoughts back to him like a vicious mirror. “You are worried. I am, too. There is nothing wrong with that. But we should not forget that it is Henry we are talking about here.” He tried to smile. It must have looked little convincing. “You might not trust Schwarzfeld. You might not even trust Žižka. Fine. But I think we can both agree that we should trust Henry.”

Sam took a deep breath, shook his head, averted his gaze. The hand that he had wrapped around the sword's handle loo­sened a bit, even as the rest of his body remained tense. It was clear that he wanted to say more, had more doubts, more fears weighing down on his chest, but he kept them to himself. As usual. Sam was right, Hans thought. Seven years, and it almost felt as if nothing had changed. Yet everything has. And we have grown older, we have moved on. Perhaps that was what made all of this so damn hard. They weren't barely matured striplings anymore who would agree to every bold plan Žižka could come up with. There was a family to look after for Hans, a wife, a realm, three children. A home built anew from the ruins for Sam, stepping into his grandfather's shoes, guiding his flock. There was so much more to lose for both of them, as ex­citing as the prospect of new adventure felt. And then there was Žižka. Still a mercenary, still on the search for his purpose in life, still lost.

Maybe that was why Henry had been the first to agree to his proposition, and so eagerly as well. Because in this regard he wasn't all that different from Žižka. Always lost, always loo­king for his path. To Henry, stepping out of Rattay had been a relief, a breath of rediscovered freedom. He could swear as ma­ny oaths as he wanted, and perhaps they weren't even lies, per­haps he wanted to stay by Hans's side until his last day, Hans wanted just the same. But not as his knight, his advisor, not tied up in duties that would bind him to the Rattay court forever. Almost ironic, wasn't it, how Hans would be the one they called little bird, while Henry was right there next to him, al­ways on the search for new adventures and restless as if trapped in a cage when he couldn't find it for too long. And yet he had stayed.

“Believe me,” Hans began as softly as he could while his voice was shaking, “I care for him as much as you do. Ten years ago, I couldn't have dreamed of being where I am now, and I wouldn't even have wanted to. To be the patriarch of the family of Leipa, yes, the Lord of Rattay, that too. But being married, with three children? Delegated to rule over all these possessions, these people, so many problems to solve, so many hungry mouths to feed. My own family's and that of the whole land.” Something rustled in the undergrowth next to his feet, a mouse perhaps, somewhere on the other side a brown owl was calling. Once, Hans had longed for this with his whole heart, the silence, the serenity of nature. Now he couldn't even re­member when he had last set foot outside the Rattay city walls. “But I am happy. Because through all of this responsibility, I always have your brother by my side. To help me make deci­sions, to calm me down whenever I feel like I could never be suited for the role. To give me love, make me feel safe. I never thought I could have that.” He laughed. A sound almost as croaking as the owl's scream. “Much less with a man!”

Sam turned, looked at him. He didn't say a word, but there was a deep understanding in his expression, as if he knew. Maybe he remembered what Hans had said before, sensed what this was about even when he couldn't quite tell why he would be sharing it. Christ, Hans didn't even know himself! To calm them both down, perhaps, take their minds off the task ahead. To lift the weight of memory off his chest, more likely. As if taking parchment and a feather when another poem had been twirling through his thoughts a whole day long, writing it down, relieving his mind. They had come and settled down in his heart now anyway. His words, his eyes, his hatred.

“You know, Henry wasn't the first man I ever had such fee­lings for. Though I was much younger when it had last hap­pened. Fourteen, to be exact.” Hans shook his head at that rea­lisation alone. The ridiculousness, this passing of time. “Christ, I'm twice as old now!”

Sam still didn't say a word, maybe he wouldn't dare to, but he listened, and then he placed the sword on the ground and lowered himself to the tree trunk next to Hans. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel his presence, his warmth, smell his scent. Pungent leather and sweet herbs like the incense burned at mass, and something that reminded Hans all too much of Henry. Hot iron perhaps, straying sparks on wood, a smouldering fire.

“He was a stable boy in Rattay. I do not even remember his name.” Nor his face, Hans thought. His hair had been brown as chestnuts, almost red. Like a squirrel, Hans had liked to say and he had meant it as a compliment, and then the other one had laughed and called him straw head, because Hans's own hair had been fair as hay back then, had only darkened a little over the years. “He was much older than me. Past twenty already, although he didn't look like it. I thought he was beauti­ful. I liked him. But I didn't know what to do about this … li­king.” Neither his uncle nor his nurse Vjenka nor any other person he knew had ever taught him about it. He had looked for answers in the tales he knew and loved. Eneas and Pallas, Siegfried and Gunther, Lancelot and Galehaut. It didn't explain shit. “One night, I went to see him in the stables, and then I … I touched him. Carefully. And he returned the touch, and then he showed me … love. Well, it wasn't actually love, it was sex, and it wasn't very pleasant for me either. But it was new, and exciting, and I came back for more. He made me come back. Told me he needed to see me again, because of what he was feeling for me.”

Hans paused for a while. The lies one was so eager to be­lieve when young and in love. Or perhaps it had been entirely his own nature that was to blame. The gullibility of people was fool-proof, Godwin had said. It surely was when that priest they waited for was any bit like Hans. Still as naive as a child, Hanush would say. When will you ever grow up?

A light appeared below on a road, silver in colour, crawling through the gorge like the water of a stream. Just the moon­light. Hans wrapped his arms tighter around his knees. “Our secret meetings went on for quite a while. And then finally, he revealed what it was exactly he was feeling for me. He asked me for a promotion. He wanted to become a knight.” There was a sound to his left, but Hans couldn't quite tell if it had been produced by Sam's throat or some animal or the wind in the branches. “I told him that he was only a stable boy, that he could never be a knight, and that even if it was possible, I was in no position to grant that to him.” Hans swallowed. He had reached a point where the memories were starting to hurt. Sam didn't push him, didn't urge him to continue. He just waited. Understood. “All of a sudden, his touches grew painful. And he began to threaten me. Promised that he would tell the whole of Rattay about us, if I didn't go and convince my uncle some­how.”

Bare, naked, helpless, pressed into the hay in the far corner of the stables. Fingers on his arms bruising. What, you wanna scream? Want them to find you like this? You have any idea what they do to filth like you?

“Of course he could have never actually told anyone. The consequences for him would have been much graver than those for me, I was a noble after all. The worst thing that could hap­pen to me was a slap on the wrist and a scolding from my un­cle, while he would at least end up in the stocks, if not be ba­nished or hanged for defiling me. But I couldn't see that at the time. I was scared. I was only fourteen!”

Hans fell silent again, and for a while he wasn't certain whe­ther he wanted to continue. The shadows of the trees on the other side formed the outline of an enormous wall that seemed to be getting closer now with every other word he spoke, and he felt locked in, despite the cold breeze on his skin, despite the birds and bats and mice, despite the dampness of the wood and the grass. He closed his eyes. The smell. The smell was what he could hold on to. Incense and leather. Hot iron. Familiar. “In my desperation, I went to someone who I believed was close to me. Close enough to confide in. Other than the stable boy's, his name I do remember very well. Matej.” Black hair, black eyes, always narrowed, always wary. He must have been sixteen or seventeen at the time, not quite a man yet, but just as broad as all the other soldiers that he trained with. “He was a squire un­der Sir Bernard. Of course, I couldn't tell him what exactly had happened between me and that stable boy, not at first anyway. I just said that he had threatened me. And Matej didn't hesitate. Went straight to him and threatened him back. Told him that he would make his life a living hell if he didn't leave Rattay at once. Matej could be quite intimidating, you know. The stable boy never stood a chance.”

Drinks and talks and laughter, even though it was rare to get a laugh from Matej. It always sounded wrong. Like a parasiti­cal insect that had clawed its way out of his throat. An occa­sional touch, after enough tankards of wine. A hand on Matej's arms, his neck, in his black curls, Hans's skin burning as if the squire's body was made of flames.

“We got closer after that, Matej and me. So close that it made me start to see things that … just weren't real. And one day, I told him everything. We were a little too drunk and we were all alone, and I felt safe. So I talked about what I had shared with the stable boy. And I talked about my own feelings for him. For Matej.” The black eyes widened for once. In sur­prise and disbelief, that Hans had been able to tell. The hatred and disgust he couldn't see. Too much wine, too much childish naivety. “He was taken aback, of course, that wasn't surprising to me. It also didn't come much to a surprise that he stood up and left. How could he not after hearing such news? But it did surprise me then, how he came back to me the next day. And how he asked me if we could meet up later that night, alone, down by the river.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sam's hands clen­ching into fists, and his jaw twitched as he pressed his lips to­gether more tightly. This wasn't a happy tale, Sam knew that. Wasn't a stranger to betrayal himself.

Hans turned away, faced the darkness next to them instead, hiding the shame that Sam wouldn't care for, but what would it matter, as Hans himself cared. “I was a fool, yes, but please bear in mind that I was still a child. Naive and hurt from what had happened before and hopeful that this time it could be different. But well, that doesn't change anything, eh?” A dark forest just like here. A short walk away from the city, east­wards, where Hans liked to ride out to every now and then. It had been summer time, Hans could remember that because of how shallow the Sasau had been. Matej had stood there like the dark knight out of Hans's books, but his face had shown no signs of chivalry and love. He also hadn't come alone as pro­mised. “Matej had his dog with him. A huge, black hunting dog. He … Well …” It was too dreadful to say it out loud.

“Farshittn mamzer.”

Hans understood these words without actually knowing them, and the fact that Sam had finally opened his mouth just to growl this curse, made him laugh, despite everything. It was a short laugh, but a welcome, healing one, and it finally lifted the weight of shame and fear off him and allowed him to breathe. He noticed how Sam looked over at him in confusion, and shook his head to him softly, and Hans nodded, with a ge­nuine smile playing with his lips. “True that.”

“What did you do to him?”

Hans had to chuckle again, and Sam lowered his brows sceptically, couldn't understand how good his blunt remarks felt to Hans. “Nothing really. I was too ashamed to tell my un­cle the truth, and I didn't have to anyway. It took me a while to recover from the injuries his dog had inflicted on me. And the ones he had caused afterwards, before he had left me there, bleeding and barely conscious. When I was finally allowed to leave my sickbed, he was gone. Sir Bernard told me he had asked to leave for Sasau, but he didn't stay there for long either. God knows where he went.”

“A kind zol nokh im heysn.”

“A child should …?”

Sam shrugged his shoulders, his face blank. “I hope he died.”

“Ah. Yes, perhaps.” He hated the thought of wishing death upon anyone really. But there was no denying it, some people had it coming. “In any case,” Hans looked up to the trees again, and they seemed much less threatening now, like a rain cloud maybe, or not even that, “all of this taught me a valuable les­son, you see? That I should never trust that easily.” A few of the trees on the left stood out above the others like a bell tower. An outstretched hand, ready to catch those that might fall from heaven. “Then, a few years later, you came along. Back then in Suchdol. I don't know if you remember. But I do. I remember your words very well, because this time it was you who taught me yet another and perhaps even more valuable lesson. That some people are worth the trust. Like a lily among thorns, so is my love.” Hans only caught the last traces of the change in expression on Sam's face when he turned back to him. The faint remnants in his tired eyes. Grief and pain and regret. “Thank you, Sam. From the bottom of my heart.”

* * *

They had sat next to each other in silence for a while after these words, both lost in thought. How cruel people could be to one another. They act out of fear and ignorance, his mame would have said. In the end, it is the heart of those who stain it with such actions that suffers most. But what good would that do? What good would it do to know of the suffering of the trai­tor when his actions led to the pain or death of someone else? Besides, more often than not these words would prove to be nothing more than a nice saying, because these mamzers didn't actually suffer. Málek clearly hadn't suffered. Not until Samuel had taken fate into his own hands and gutted him like a sheep.

Samuel couldn't tell for how long they sat there. An hour at least, two or three more likely. The sky had become even dar­ker, almost as dark as the row of trees, melting into them to form a parchment covered in ink all over, a wall of nothing­ness. The dampness of the trunk had long crept through the cotton of his trousers, and he tried to move as little as he could to not make the feeling more uncomfortable. Then all of a sudden, Hans Capon did something that complicated move­ment even more. He tipped over to the side as if all strength had left his body at once, and rested his head on Samuel's shoulder.

“A rose of Sharon,” he mumbled. His tongue sounded heavy as if he was drunk, but he had only taken a few sips of wine during their wait. Tiredness. Samuel felt it, too. Tired and ex­hausted and scared, and he hated it all. Wanted this to move on, wanted to act, wanted to prove his own doubts wrong. “You never told me the whole poem. A shame, because you made up something so pretty there.”

“I did not make it up.” Hans could barely hold his eyes open. Damn it, Samuel's own eyes burned too, and he wanted to do nothing more than close them, get some rest, but he knew he wouldn't find it, and one of them had to stay awake anyway. “It is a poem of my people. And I only learned of it through,” his lips formed silent words that his heart didn't dare to speak, “someone else.”

“Well, then this someone has a great taste in poetry.”

“She had, yes.”

“Oh.”

Too much, he had said too much. And it hurt, and he wanted to take it back, because already he could feel the cracks ripping into the wall, the blood streaming from them. He had buried it all, and it was for the best. Had left it behind like he had left her grave, never to return. How could he possibly have re­turned after what he had done?

“What was her name?”

“Hannah.” Neyn, his own voice screamed helplessly inside his head. Nit an ander vort!

“A beautiful name. Was she just as beautiful?”

“Even more so.” The cracks tore open, some of the bricks had crumbled to dust, he could feel it in his heart, and if it hadn't been for Hans's head on his shoulder, he might as well have jumped up and ran. Ran where? Back to Kolín? Back to Kuttenberg? To her? There was no back to run to and nothing to run from but his own soul. And he had already succumbed to that chase.

“Was she …” Hans's words were barely intelligible now, but Samuel doubted he noticed. “… the poem …”

“One of her favourite poems. I think she felt that it was able to say things she couldn't. Or wouldn't. Because I wouldn't have listened anyway.” Esthera's hand shaking as she handed him the paper. Some of the words had been slurred, Hannah had never been the most careful when it came to writing. “Ir­responsible was what she often called me. And she was right. I cared more for childish ideas of revolution than for her, and for us. And in trying to do justice to both, I failed both. All my great schemes to stifle the support for Sigismund in Kuttenberg went to shit.”

He had known as soon as he had climbed through that window that something was wrong. That fucking custodian wasn't in his bed where he was supposed to be. And he hadn't heard Hannah's hands and feet on the scaffolding either. The soldiers hadn't worn any armour and they had moved as quietly as rats, he hadn't even noticed them storming the alleyway below him. But then Hannah had screamed and coughed and vomited blood and died. And all that had been left to do for him was to run. “I never got to tell her that I loved her. And in turn, she took her own secret to the grave with her. She only told me with that poem and with the lines she herself had added to it.” And Esthera had confirmed it with nothing more than a silent nod because as Hannah's closest friend she at least had known. I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys. As a lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters. As an apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. Under its shadow I delighted to sit, and its fruit was sweet to my taste. He has brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me is love. And then Hannah had painted two small ornaments under the words, a flower and a tree, and in her scrawled handwriting she had added: And from my beloved's fruit new seeds have fallen, and the ground where they landed was rich and welcoming. They will bring forth a lily or an apple tree, and me and my loved one shall stand by its side to water it and watch it flourish. “She had been with child.”

His words faded away in nothingness. Hans had fallen a­sleep. No one had heard them, except Samuel himself and the one who always listened. Who knew it all.

Samuel closed his eyes. They burned too much. A single tear broke its way through his lashes and ran down his cheek into Hans's golden hair. Hannah had been a good climber, and sometimes they had found their way up to the roofs of Kutten­berg, had sat there for a while, watching the sunset, dreaming of better times. He had dreamed, that was, she had listened. Had placed her head on his shoulder, just like Hans did now, her fingers entangled in his.

He tilted his head, rested his cheek on Hans's hair, dried his tears. I'm sorry, he wanted to say, but it would have been foo­lish. Hans wasn't her. And he wouldn't have heard the words anyway, just as Hannah would never hear them.

They had bought her body free from the city guards. Samuel hadn't been with the other shomrim, hadn't watched over her body and soul as he should have, hadn't been there when they lowered her into the ground. Hadn't wanted to think about the second soul that he needed to keep watch over. Instead, he had sought out Málek. Málek had begged and whined like a dog, down on his knees to Samuel's feet, his hands reaching out as if he was praying. Samuel hadn't wanted to hear him beg and whine and pray. Had only wanted one answer from him. “Sil­ver or freedom?” he had asked. “What have they offered you?”

“Freedom,” Málek had croaked out. “Please, Samuel, I am telling the truth, you have to believe me!”

Samuel had nodded. Not because he believed, but because it didn't matter anyway. Then he had pulled the moser to his feet to cut him open from pubic bone to navel. He thought it only just.

Esthera had been at Hannah's grave when Samuel had got there later that night. She had seen Málek's blood on him. “Oh, Samuel,” she had breathed out, “what have you done?”

There had been no need to explain himself. She understood, better than anyone else could. She had left, and once he had been alone, Samuel had finally broken down. His knees hitting the heaped up earth, choking on tears and screams, fingers star­ting to hurt, it had taken a while until he noticed why, had only dawned on him when he fell down in exhaustion. Maybe if I stay here, he had thought. How long may it take? And the words from Hannah's poem had echoed through his mind like a prayer, sung in her own voice, a lullaby so that time could pass faster. And the ground where they landed was rich and welco­ming. They will bring forth a lily or an apple tree, and me and my loved one shall stand by its side to water it and watch it flourish.

His wish had not been granted. The sun of a new day had al­ready painted the sky in blood red when Samuel stood up from the grave and never returned. Esthera had waited for him at the mikveh as if she had already expected him, and not a single word of horror or condemnation was uttered, even as she no­ticed the earth underneath his fingernails. This time, she hadn't left him alone. She had stood outside the mikveh while he bathed and cleansed his body of blood and soil, stood watch as if she herself wanted to perform shemira on him. But she was standing guard at the wrong place. The graveyard was where he had left his soul.

A light on the road below, and Samuel straightened his back so suddenly that Hans almost slipped off him. “Oy, shvoger!Wake up! Something is happening!”

“Huh?” Hans blinked a few times, leaving the realm of sleep slowly, way too slowly for someone who was supposed to exe­cute a masterful shot every moment now. Samuel gave him an additional blow with the elbow for good measure. “Ouch! How dare you! I am awake, alright?”

He lifted his hand, pointed down to the road, and to the fli­ckering, orange light, approaching from the left. A few more moments passed, and then two figures appeared, bodies wrapped in black and white robes of wool, their heads bowed down as if exhausted from a full day's walk. Henry's dark hair was covering his forehead, it was dishevelled, making him seem more innocent and harmless. Godwin's head reflected the light of the lantern in his hands like a piece of molten iron.

“They must have seen them then.” Hans removed the cross­bow from his belt, taking one of the prepared bolts out of the leather bag Sam had brought him earlier. “Which means that Father Thomas and his men should …”

Another light, this time on the other side of the road, and the rumbling sound of carriage wheels. Armour chattered, but they had been expecting that, and when the group of men finally ap­peared in their vision, Samuel counted only four men in total, the priest on his carriage and three mercenaries by foot, one less than Schwarzfeld had predicted. They were well-equipped, with swords and maces and bows on their hips, but then again one of them wasn't even wearing a helmet, perhaps thinking himself safe from the previous lack of dangerous encounters on their way so far. Should things stray from the plan, he would be the first to die.

The priest steadied his horses and brought the armed men to a halt with a single raise of his hand. Henry and Godwin stopped as well, eyeing the group in front of them as if they were surprised to meet them here, then they bowed and greeted each other. A warm and cheerful tone, but their voices were too quiet to understand them.

“Can you hear what they're saying?”

Hans shook his head, squinting his eyes, keeping them on the road, even as he placed the crossbow on the ground so he could cock it. “Not a word.”

A lower mumbling as one of the mercenaries chimed in on the conversation. The priest seemed to grasp the reins more tightly as he bowed forward. Godwin laughed, but it sounded strained. Not good.

“They are talking for way too long already.”

“They need to get Father Thomas to a point where he would actually believe them when they show him a Jan Hus inspired magic trick.” Hans breathed out a quiet laughter, probably due to the ridiculousness of it all. “Of course it's gonna take some time!”

Samuel narrowed his eyes to improve his vision against the darkness, but the trees on the other side of the gorge stood too close together to let any light through. Still, there should have been something, should there not? A movement of the bushes, the flash of moonlight on steel.

He grabbed his father's sword, lifted himself off the trunk.

“Sam!” Hans was whispering, but it was high and sharp. He felt it, too. “Where are you going?”

Samuel took a few steps along the edge of the slope, never letting his gaze leave the opposite side, so that he couldn't miss the slightest sign of them. Nothing. No shadow, no flicker of light, no matter how much he changed his angle. “Did you ever see Kubyenka and the Hungarian show up?”

“Well, they are supposed to hide. They'd do something wrong if we were able to see them.”

Below on the road, Henry had opened his bag, pulling a glass ball out of it, then a stick, placing the ball on top of it by a designated recess on the bottom, then he raised the apparatus to the sky. The lamplight made it glow as if he was holding the sun itself on a leash. The fire of God, the spark of his words.

Hans took a deep breath, lifted the crossbow.

Eight pairs of eyes, all waiting for a miracle.

“Something isn't right here,” Samuel hissed.

Then a bolt shot through the air like a lightning. The priest let out a gurgling sound, trembling hands raised to his throat, where the bolt had pierced right through. It didn't take long for him to die, and even less for two of his men to draw their wea­pons while another one ran off immediately. The one conve­niently not dressed in full armour.

Henry took a step back to dodge the swing of a mace, raised his face to the mountain top. Samuel followed his eyes, saw Hans kneeling next to him, crossbow raised, bolt still nocked, his eyes widened in shock. “That wasn't me!”

“That mamzer has betrayed us!” He didn't hesitate for ano­ther moment, stormed over to where the slope was flat enough to get down without falling. “I will go to them!” he shouted back at Hans. “But be careful, there must be another archer …”

A hit against his back, and Samuel got pushed forward, crashed down on the ground, with someone else weighing down on his back, pressing all air out of his lungs. Father's sword was still sheathed and the man sitting on top of him didn't give him enough room to pull it out, but he managed to slide the other hand under his body, grasping the dagger and bringing it back, slicing through flesh. The man died on top of him, screaming pain and fright into Samuel's ear, until it was finally over.

It took some effort to crawl out from underneath the body, and when he had finally freed himself and turned on his back, he saw that the space around them, where Hans and him had thought themselves alone just moments before, was now filled with men, two of them already lying on the ground, the one whose belly Samuel had cut open and another one with a bolt in his eye socket. They weren't heavily armoured thankfully, hadn't dared to it seemed as not to give their ambush away through sounds, but from the way they moved Samuel could tell that each of them was skilled. Hans had thrown his cross­bow down, now occupied with fighting one of the men by sword, while another one rushed forward with an axe, swinging it for Samuel's head. He turned quickly, unsheathing the sword in the same motion, before he got up on his feet. Another turn, a swing with father's sword, parried by the axe with such strength that Samuel felt the impact all the way up to his shoul­der. He went for another blow, got parried again, but this time he was prepared, raised the dagger. He didn't even get the time to watch the fucker choke on his own blood, before two more attackers came for him, wild as hounds, and before he could react, one of them had his short sword lifted, bringing the pom­mel down on Samuel's wrist. A biting pain in his arm, a flash of light blurring his sight, then a gloved hand hit his face, sending him to his knees.

“Hold on, Vojtěch!” someone screamed to his left. “One of them is a nobleman!”

The man called Vojtěch, who had his weapon raised above Samuel's head like an executioner's sword, examined him closely with a tilted head, as if he was looking for the word no­bility being written somewhere on Samuel's skin. Given he could read.

Another, familiar voice cut through the air, using this short moment of hesitation. “This is your chance, Hans! Flee! I will distract them!”

Hans didn't have to tell him twice. Samuel threw his body forward, running his dagger into the man's upper thigh, just be­low the crotch, two, three, four times, then he let it fall, twirled around and grabbed father's sword. Someone's mace got dan­gerously close to his legs, but he dodged the blow, started run­ning without turning back.

“Hans, he said,” the leader of the pack exclaimed behind him. “That one is the noble then. Don't shoot him!”

“What about the other guy?”

“Just some Jew, I think. He won't be missed.”

A few hasty steps down the slope, and his right knee gave in, but Samuel was quick in catching his balance again, kept on running. Some more steps, and he was close enough to throw the sword safely, even with his left hand. “Bruder!”

Henry gave the man in front of him a kick against the shin, looked up. He caught the sword by the handle firmly, twirled around, gutted his closest enemy. Good.

Samuel turned back, climbed up to the top of the mountain again, where Hans was on the ground now, surrounded by the four remaining men, a fawn circled by hawks. One of them was injured on the back of his head and had taken his skullcap off. A mistake. Samuel pulled the second, shorter dagger from his belt and threw it with one single, precise motion. The blade hit him right in the neck, and he crashed down like a felled tree.

“Oy!” Samuel shouted at them. “Khazerim!”

They turned around in confusion. That was all Hans needed. One swing sliding through two pairs of legs, the third man got a blow straight to his back. He gave them no rest when they lay on the ground, ended it quickly. Then he stumbled forward, fell to his hands and knees, and coughed. It was over. Time for the pain to set in.

Samuel made his way across the bodies over to Hans, rea­ching out his left hand for him. Better not to waste any thoughts on the smell of blood and intestines, on the lives ta­ken, not yet anyway. “Are you alright?”

Hans took his hand, pulled himself up. “Yes.” His eyes quickly wandered across Samuel's body, settling on his right wrist that was already starting to swell, painted in the darkest violet, a stark contrast against his pale skin. “What about you?”

“I'll survive.”

Hans nodded. His expression revealed that he knew too well that Samuel made it seem better than it actually was, but he ac­cepted the reply for now.

They didn't have to hurry as they climbed down the moun­tain side this time. Henry and Godwin had long got rid of their two opponents, and without any major injuries, too, by the looks of it.

It still didn't keep Hans from rushing forward and throwing his arms around Henry's neck. “Henry!”

“I'm fine.” Henry returned the embrace and for the briefest moment his lips found Hans's neck.

Godwin didn't seem like he was in the mood for tenderness. “What the fuck happened here?”

“It wasn't his fault.” Samuel nodded at Hans. “Someone else shot the priest.”

“Yes,” Henry agreed, letting go off Hans, but staying close enough for their hands to touch, “we could see that it wasn't one of your bolts.”

“They were hiding up there between the trees close to us. I counted ten of them.”

“Ten?” Henry's eyes widened. “And you didn't notice them?”

“We were more focused on the things going on down here,” Hans hurried to say, leaving a big part of the truth out, and Sa­muel nodded in silent acknowledgement. The things shared be­tween them had not been meant for anyone else to hear. “Be­sides, most of them didn't even wear any steel.”

“No steel.” It wasn't a question. Godwin had already expec­ted this. “So they were confident enough to fight us without much armour.” His gaze wandered over to the carriage, from which the priest hung down, his limbs twisted from agony like the threads of a rope. His left hand was still dripping from blood, as he had tried to tear the bolt out of his neck, but in vain. “Making it all the more unlikely that this shot was a miss.”

“And they were well-informed,” Samuel added. “They knew about Hans, and took good care not to kill him.” Or me, for that matter. He would have to thank Hans later in a proper way, once this here was settled.

“While they didn't even hesitate to sacrifice a priest.”

“You think this was all planned?” Hans broke away from Henry to better look at him. “Including the killing of Farther Thomas?”

“One of them ran off as soon as the bolt hit, we didn't even get a chance to go after him. And he was prepared for it too, just barely armoured.”

“Making sure he would live to tell the tale,” Godwin con­cluded. “He won't even have to make anything up, we gave him all he would need. Two disciples of Jan Hus, stopping them in the woods and killing the man who was just on his way to Prague to speak out against said Jan Hus fella.”

“But sacrificing a priest for that cause?” Hans asked again, as if his mind still had trouble believing it. “Don't they have any honour?”

“It seems to be more important to them to let everyone know that we don't have any honour. More food for their wild accusa­tions of dismembering and slaughtering clergymen.” Godwin's eyes found Samuel's, and his mouth twisted into a pained smile. “A kind of defamation that your people are already fami­liar with.”

“All too well.” Especially since they started to understand Wenceslas as a friend of the Jews, Samuel thought bitterly. And the Hussites too, people didn't like to differentiate much. They are pouring hot pitch over the tonsures of our priests, and just the other week I heard of a young monk whose cock and balls they squashed with metal plates until he died from the torture! And most of them didn't even bother to ask whether they was supposed to mean the Hussites or the Jews. It was all the same these days. Religious deviants. Rebels against the divine might of the church.

Henry turned around, pointing up the mountains. “What about Janosh and Kubyenka? Did you see them?”

“No,” Samuel replied. “And there were no attackers on that side either. So they cannot have ambushed them as they have done to us, at least not here.”

“You think they may have been stopped on their way?” Hans bit his bottom lip as the thought settled in, his eyes widened in horror. “Fuck.”

Henry nodded. Then he turned, picked the glass ball off the ground and slammed it against the carriage with a loud curse. The biting stench of the firedamp filled the air. Just some fric­tion, Samuel pondered, or a single spark and the carriage and that damned priest would go up in flames. But what good would that do now? “We need to report what happened here to Žižka. And then find a way to clean up this whole mess.”

It was already morning, when they arrived in Žižka's hideout in that Kuttenberg church. The sun had risen, piercing through the beams of the roof like arrows of silver smoke, dancing in the air. The new day was warmer than the last one, not a single cloud darkened the sky, birds that nested in the corners of the church roof celebrated that warmer times were to come.

The sweet caress of spring didn't seem to have passed by Katherine and Žižka either. When the others climbed up the ladder to the church attic, they were sitting together at the table that Žižka used to store all his documents on, each of them on opposite sides, but leaning over the books and parchments to­wards each other. A little too close.

“A whole house?” Katherine whispered in feigned surprise.

“An estate.” Another gasp of Katherine, and Žižka smiled with an audible hum. “A castle.”

“What on earth would I need a castle for?”

“You won't. But if I have the means to, I would not hesitate to give it to you. I'd give you all I have.”

“All of it, really?”

Samuel pushed himself over the edge onto the floor of the attic, struggling, with only one hand and an elbow to use. Ka­therine passed him a quick glance, and nodded, then she leaned back on her chair with crossed arms. “Before you have ac­quired enough money to buy me a castle, you may as well have died of old age. Time is running, Žižka.”

He let out a laugh that sounded more like air being squeezed out of a bellows. Then he turned around, looked at Samuel and at the others who had followed right behind him, and all the ease and joy vanished from his face at once. “One look at you, and I know that the whole plan went to shit.”

Henry was the first to step forward, of course he was. Other than Samuel and Hans, he had been behind the plan with all his heart. He hadn't spoken much on their ride back to Kuttenberg, but it was clear he felt just as responsible as Žižka must feel, if not more so. “You can say that out loud! We were betrayed. Ambushed by almost a dozen more soldiers. The whole thing was set up.”

“One of them got away before we could stop him.” God­win's voice was as clear and strong as it could get, a soldier re­porting back on his mission. “He clearly went to tell everyone about what happened.”

“And what did happen?” Žižka moved up from his chair now, his eyes wandering from one to the other. Samuel felt as if he looked right through their souls with that blind, pale one. “What about the priest?”

“Dead,” Henry answered plainly. Žižka's gaze shot over to Hans in shock, and Henry raised a pacifying hand. “It was one of the attackers up in the woods. And it didn't happen by acci­dent.”

“They created a martyr.” Katherine's voice was as weak as the spring air whistling through the roof above them.

Žižka let himself sink back against the table, breathing in and out a few times. It was more than that, he knew it. Creating a martyr was only the start. Rumours would spread quickly, and the rumours would ask for consequences. Banishments, prohibitions, death sentences, persecutions. Žižka had wanted to help. Had wanted nothing more than to find a cause they could all agree on, igniting their fire again, including the spark in his own heart. He had navigated them right into disaster. “The one who got away, where did he go?”

“North,” Henry answered. “To Prague.”

“Yes, but unless he had a horse hidden somewhere close, it would take him almost a whole day to get there. I reckon he rather went for a meeting point that was more in his immediate vicinity. A place, perhaps, that is in control of another conspira­tor of all this.”

“The Zlenice castle is close by,” Katherine suggested.

“Ondřej Dubá? Well, he serves as the highest judge in the re­gion, but he is loyal to Wenceslas.”

“Only that Wenceslas isn't all too loyal to Jan Hus anymore. Besides, wasn't Dubá a member of the League of Lords once?”

Žižka nodded without looking at her, thinking it through. Sa­muel could feel his own patience slowly flying off to the sky, together with the swallows under the gable. “He was, but not for long. And the man is ninety, Kat. What reason would he have to get himself tangled up in political strives at his age?”

“You should know that better than most.”

Samuel took a step forward now, his heart pounding almost as heavily as his head and wrist. “What does it matter where they went? Wherever they fled to, they must have reached it by now, and soon the word will spread.”

“Sam is right.” It was a relief that Henry didn't seem to be any more interested in this game of guessing than Samuel was. “The best thing we can do now is to clean up this mess we made as quickly as possible.”

There is one particular mess to clean up first, Samuel thought. That fucker Schwarzfeld who must still be in the room they offered him, only one floor below. Sleeping the sleep of the just. “And take care of that traitor who ratted us out.”

He felt Žižka stare him down for a long time, brows pulled together tightly, the pale eye tearing open his soul. Samuel defied his gaze. There was nothing for Žižka to see that he had to be ashamed of. Žižka's eyes were still fixed on him, when he asked them all with a harsher voice than before: “Where are Kubyenka and Janosh?”

“They never arrived at our meeting place,” Henry answered.

“Did you search the area for them?”

“We did, but only the surroundings, and it was still dark. Though I suppose they must have been stopped before ever getting there.”

“Dear God!” Katherine raised a hand to her mouth.

“Hm.” Žižka's half-empty stare was still buried in Samuel's soul as if that sound was supposed to have carried some other hidden meaning just for him. Samuel couldn't care less.

“We must search for them again,” Hans stepped forward un­til he stood right next to Henry, hands and voice raised, “and we should do it now that it is daytime! Track down the whole way they must have taken, from Uzhitz to Jezonice!”

“We will. And we won't stop until we haven't at least found some trace of them. Dead or alive.”

“Alive?” Henry shook his head in surprise. A string of silver morning light hit his hair, painting it grey where it touched him. “You think someone could have taken them hostage?”

“I doubt it.” Žižka's voice was cold as ice.

Samuel had lost all interest in this fucking staring competi­tion. “You can go look for them.” His fingers had found their way to the handle of his dagger, he hadn't even noticed it but now he felt all to eager to take it and slit someone's throat. “I will have a word with this farreter Schwarzfeld.”

He barely got time to turn on his heel. Žižka jumped forward so quickly that there was little room to react, and he had his mace at hand all of a sudden, putting the heavy metal head to Samuel's chest. No, he thought. Not this time. He pushed the mace away with his right arm, used the left hand to draw the dagger. Žižka was quicker, and he had the advantage of kno­wing that Samuel would not actually hurt him. He closed the distance between them with another firm step, and grabbed his broken wrist with the free hand, squeezing it tightly. Samuel let out a sharp hiss, his vision exploded in blinding light from the pain.

“Not so fast, youngster.”

“Take your hand off me.”

“I cannot do that,” Žižka's voice was low and rumbling like thunder, “unless I am fully certain that you won't do anything foolish.”

“What are you protecting Schwarzfeld for?” Henry came closer to them, but he didn't intervene, even as Samuel could hear in his voice that every fibre of his body wanted to. “He is a traitor! He led us straight into a trap, risking all our lives, sullying the reputation of Hus, he may even have Kubyenka and Janosh on his conscience!”

“I won't deny that he might have played a role in all this. But he is not responsible for what happened with these two.”

“What?”

One more deep breath, one more piercing glare with that cursed dead eye, and then Žižka finally let go off Samuel's wrist, stepping back to the table. Another wave of pain rolled over him, so vigorously he almost fainted. “Schwarzfeld knew which road the priest and his men would take. But neither Ka­therine nor I told him a single word about where exactly you would meet with him, let alone where Janosh and Kubyenka would be staying during the day.”

“So what?” Hans's voice got so high that it cracked. “He knew about the plan, that was more than enough. Those armed men he set on us might have just followed us all the way!”

“From Kuttenberg to Uzhitz? A dozen men, without any of you noticing them? No, they clearly waited there the whole time. They have received their information from a very reliable source.”

“What are you hinting on here, Žižka?” Henry's voice was a strong contrast to Hans's, deep and growling, a dog that had sensed his prey.

Žižka took his time to reply. The silence was filled with an­ger and fear, the lowered looks from Katherine and Godwin who both didn't seem so surprised about Žižka's assumptions, the singing of the swallows who didn't care for the pain of the humans underneath them. “Look. I don't like this any more than you do. But Kubyenka has expressed his concerns about all of this many times over the past few days. So the idea of betrayal is one that we have to entertain.”

Samuel took a step back to the ladder, but he lifted both his hands reassuringly, only a weak attempt with his right one. “All the more reason then to entertain this Schwarzfeld a little.” His grin was all teeth, and he assumed that it looked just as vicious as it felt. “To talk to him, friendly of course.”

This time, Žižka didn't stop him, but Samuel could still see him nod in Hans's direction, before he turned to walk back over to the ladder. “Go with him.” Footsteps behind him, one pair, then another one. “Not you, Henry. I need you here.”

[iftadwascool]

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