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chamomiletealeaf · 16 days

Note

Follow up of the Alone mission:

Ghost and Johnny fucking you in the truck

HELL YEAHHHHHHHHHHH 🦅🦅🦅🦅

This turned way way longer than intended but enjoy this straight up porn 🙏😭

Warnings: afab! fem reader, tiniest bit of angst at the beginning, pervy Simon and Johnny, tit play, nipple play, threesome, eiffel tower position, dacryphilia, creampie, oral f! receiving, oral m! receiving, spanking, face slapping

Tensions and adrenaline were high. You and Simon waited for Johnny at the church and finally escaped with him in some truck you found.

It was scary. When Johnny didn’t answer over comms you automatically assumed the worst. You and Simon looking at each other eyes wide waiting for his response. You began to panic, gripping Simon’s bicep in anticipation and you both let out the breaths you were holding in when you finally heard his voice.

He managed to make it out alive. He made it back to you two… alive… You were all soaking wet from the rain, but none of you even noticed given the circumstances.

And as you sat in the backseat, Johnny in the passenger seat, and Simon driving away to safety, you finally let your guard down a little bit.

You leaned forward in the middle console and placed a hand on Johnny’s cheek, rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone, tears of pure joy starting to fill your eyes.

“You ok lass?” Johnny asks as he takes your hand.

“Yeah. I’m just, happy you’re ok.” You say with a smile, taking in the moment that he’s real. He’s there with you. And he’s ok.

“Oh bonnie.” He laughs. “It’s gonna take much more than sneaking past a bunch of eejits to lose me.” He reassures you and you laugh.

After about 10 minutes into the drive or so, going god knows where, you all start to feel the weight of your wet clothes, as well as the coldness.

You notice how the soaking wet pants on Johnny and Simon cling to their thick cocks, giving you a perfect outline of just how big they are.

You shift in your seat, blushing, and try to avert your eyes.

Under your tac vest, which was getting pretty heavy from the water absorbed by it, so you take it off, was a white T-shirt that had nothing under it.

You weren’t wearing a bra since you didn’t expect to be thrown into an emergency mission and didn’t have time to do anything other than throw on your tac vest and other gear.

Your T- shirt, sopping wet, clings to your chest showing off your nipples that have hardened from the cold.

You don’t notice it at first, until you catch Simon looking at you through the rearview mirror making him swerve a little. He wasn’t looking at your eyes though. And that’s when you look down and see just how exposed you are.

“Fuck.” You whisper to yourself and cross your arms to hide them.

Simon clears his throat to ease the awkwardness between you two and announces that the truck is going to run out of gas.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” Simon says, and you and Johnny look at him.

“What is it?” You ask.

“Fuckin’ trucks nearly empty. Thank god we’re in a remote area. It’s safe enough to wait here until Price can meet us.” He states, and Johnny sighs.

There was nothing for miles where you were, and it was better to be stranded here than in another Shadow infested neighborhood. Base was still a long ways to go anyway.

Simon pulls the truck over onto a shoulder of the road by some bushes to keep the vehicle somewhat hidden.

“This should do for now.” And he contacts Price on comms letting him know where they are.

“Price is on his way with Laswell. Give or take an hour or so.” Simon says and you sit in silence for a moment.

“It’s fuckin’ cold as hell.” You say shivering, trying to find something to say to lighten the mood.

“Me fucking too. Think I might come back there with you lass. Body heat might do us good.” Johnny says with a smirk and winces trying to get over the center console into the back with you and you giggle.

Simon watches you two make light of the situation and how your arms are still crossed as Johnny playfully snuggles up into your side.

“Fuck might as well.” Simon mumbles as he gets out the truck and moves into the back with you two.

You’re now soaking wet, in the middle of nowhere at night, in a truck with two big, thick, beefy men who are also soaked to the bone.

To anyone else, this may seem like their worst nightmare. But to you? This was heaven.

“Aren’t you two gonna take those off? It’s probably making the cold worse.” You say, referring to all their soaking wet heavy gear still strapped to their bodies.

Simon just looks at you, really wondering if you really just asked him if he’s gonna take off his gear as if he’s not always on guard.

“You know lass, if you wanted us to take our clothes off you could’ve just asked nicely.” Johnny says with a smirk and you playfully push him with your arm, revealing your bare tits to him through your wet, white shirt.

Johnny notices and his face changes. He’s no longer playful and he looks at you, and then at Simon, who he can tell has a smirk on under his mask.

You notice the energy shift and their eye contact and you get confused.

“What?” You ask them, looking back and forth between them.

“You know, we’ve got a bit of time to kill.” Simon says to the both of you and Johnny smirks.

“Aye, we do. Good thing we have this pretty little thing to keep us company.” Johnny says back and grabs your chin so you look at him.

You squeeze your legs together and arch your back a bit as you feel your pussy throb and flood with warmth at the thought of what they’re implying.

Simon laughs darkly at your obvious aroused reaction and he runs a hand up your thigh while he leans in to your ear.

“What do you say love, wanna kill some time?” Simon whispers and you whimper, turning your head back to Simon, but Johnny catches your jaw in his grasp and directs your gaze back to him. It’s then Johnny’s turn to whisper to you as he leans in, hand still grasping your jaw as he brushes his lips against your ear.

“C’mon dollie, might as well, especially when those pretty little nipples of yours look so ready to be played with.” He whispers, the smirk returning to his face when he notices your gasp, then he moves to suck on your neck making you whine.

“Been starin’ at ‘em ever since she got in the car.” Simon says to Johnny.

“So that’s- wh- mm, why we almost crashed then.” You say breathlessly with a smirk, not wanting to seem like you submitted to them so easily.

Simon moves his hand from your thigh up to pinch your nipple making you squeal.

“Oi watch your mouth dovey, or else I’ll have to put it to better use.” He says and you moan.

“C’mon bonnie. Let us play with you hm?” Johnny asks against your neck.

“Mmph. Yeah. Yeah, please. Want you both.” You stutter out, and Johnny smiles against your skin, immediately grabbing your hips and turning you so your back is to Simon and you’re now facing him.

He grabs your legs and yanks off your cargos, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He then attacks your nipple with his mouth, sucking through the stretched out sopping wet T-shirt that’s now see through that’s attempting to cover you.

He brings his other hand to squeeze at your other breast and Simon repositions himself so your back is against his chest.

Simon then lifts his balaclava up just above his nose and places a hand under your jaw, making you tilt your head just enough so he can suck on your neck.

You moan loudly, trying to bite your lip to muffle it.

“Uh-uh, sweetheart. No one out here to hear you but us. Let us hear you.” Simon says, and you let out a loud gasp when Johnny lightly bites at your nipple through your shirt.

Johnny pulls away from your tits and brings his hands up to squeeze them together, making the fabric of your shirt bunch and water gather between your tits, eventually spilling down your chest.

“Fuck me. Look at these bonnie fuckin’ tits. Look so pretty peekin’ through this shirt of yours.” He says right before smushing his face between your tits, lapping at the water dripping down from between them.

Simon stops sucking your neck and grunts.

“Alright mate move, you’ve had your turn.” Simon says and pushes his head away from you with a gloved hand making him huff in protest.

Johnny complies like the good boy he is and moves back to your neck all the way up to your lips where he begins to sloppily make out with you as Simon massages your tits.

His gloved hands feel so nice and rough against your soft tits and he squeezes them, making you arch your back and whimper.

He tweaks your nipples through your shirt before gathering them and jiggling them, wanting to really feel just how heavy or light they are.

“Fuck you’re right Johnny. Such perfect tits.” He says.

Then, Johnny moves down between your legs, biting at your thighs while Simon brings his hand up to your mouth.

“Take it off.” Simon demands, and you bite the edge of his glove allowing him to free his hand from it.

“Good. Other one now.” He says, and you bite the other glove, freeing his other hand.

He tosses the gloves aside and squeezes your tits with his bare hands this time, really getting a chance to feel them.

He bucks his hips and groans involuntarily into your back at the feeling of your nipples and the softness of your skin, even through the t-shirt.

Simon leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Didn’t know you had all this hidin’ under that tac gear this whole time lovey fuck.”

And you squeeze your legs around Johnny’s head at his words.

Johnny moans and moves up to suck at your clit through your panties, soaked from the rain and from your arousal.

“Oh fuck Johnny. Yeah like that.” You moan, and he wraps his arms around your thighs keeping you in place.

But you buck your hips too much, pleasure from Simon groping your tits and whispering to you and Johnny pretty much eating you out through your panties was too much.

“Mm. Keep her still for me aye?” Johnny says, muffled by your pussy against him and Simon moves his hands to grip your hips so tight you know it’ll bruise.

“Yeahh that’s it.” Johnny says, and he moves your panties to the side before he attacks your clit with his tongue, and you try to arch your back but Simon holds you down in place.

Johnny tongue fucks you, shaking his head back and forth and up and down making sure he hits every spot inside and outside of you. Lewd slurping noises fill the truck as well as soft praises from Simon and your panting.

“You gonna cum on Johnny’s face? hm? He must be doing a good job from the way I can feel you tensing. Him acting like a fucking mutt finally did him some good yeah?” Simon teases both of you, which just makes Johnny want to get you off faster.

“Watch it L.T., or I’m not sharing.” Johnny says and Simon just scoffs back.

“Yeah ok Johnny.” He teases with a smirk.

Johnny then slides two fingers into you and finger fucks you at an unrelenting pace just to show Simon he can make you cum.

“Oh- J- Johnny fuck, slow down.” You squeal out, the feeling of him stretching you so quickly being so good.

Instead he curls his fingers, hitting that perfect spot and he begins sucking on your clit again.

You reach down to grab Johnny’s hair and reach back behind your head to grip onto Simon.

“That feel good bunny? You like having Johnny play with your sweet little pussy?” Simon asks, ghosting his lips over your neck and leaving butterfly kisses on your cheek bone.

“Yeah. F-feels so good. Fuck Johnny. I’m- oh my god I’m gonna squirt.”

“Do it lovey, make a mess on Johnny’s face.” Simon says, and Johnny hums in agreement with him, and that’s all it took.

Johnny pumps his fingers into you a few more times as well as a few more licks and sucks to your clit and your legs begin to shake around him.

Your eyes roll back and you let out a squeaky moan as you squirt all on Johnny’s fingers and face, one hand in his hair as you bite your thumb on your other.

Johnny moans as he feels you make a mess all over his face and Simon lets out a multitude of praises.

“Oh fuck that’s it. Yeah. Holy shit, such a perfect pretty little thing. That’s it, cum for Johnny.”

You pulse around Johnny’s fingers and on his tongue as you orgasm and you fall limp letting the aftershocks take over, making your pussy pulse less rhythmically.

“Fuck lass.” Johnny says breathlessly.

“Didn’t think you were a squirter.” He smirks at you and you playfully hit his shoulder.

“Sorry I- I didn’t mean to-” You try and apologize while you catch your breath.

“None of that. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” Johnny reassures and Simon hums in agreement.

“Fuck yeah it was.” Simon says.

“Now on your knees dovey, we’re not done with you yet.” Simon says as he lifts you up by your hips to position you so your ass is pressed against his front, and your face is in front of Johnny’s fully hard cock nearly bursting through his pants.

The space in the back of the truck is tight, and you don’t have much room, but you didn’t mind, being smushed between two thick cocks and all.

Simon rips your panties down from your legs and gives your ass a spank, making you jolt forward, pressing your cheek into Johnny’s covered, hard cock which makes him hiss.

“Here mate, catch.” Simon says before he tosses your panties to Johnny, which he then stuffs in your mouth.

“Such a pretty wee thing she is aye L.T.?” Johnny asks Simon, rubbing his thumb over your open lips stuffed with your own soaked panties.

Simon rubs his hands up and down your back to your ass, giving it three hard smacks making you whine.

Simon laughs at your reaction then says,

“That she is. Such a perfect little fuck doll.” Simon says as he pulls his leaking cock out and smacks it against your ass.

“Fuck. Gonna be in your stomach love.” He says when he thrusts forward pushing his cock up your back to see how far inside you he’s going to be.

He then leans forward and whispers in your ear.

“Is this alright sweets?" He asks before doing anything else, and you press your ass back into him.

"Yes. Please." You whine, voice muffled from the panties in your mouth so you nod your head as well.

"Ooh such a good girl, sayin' please without even being asked." Simon states pleasantly.

Simon then lines himself up with you and slowly starts to stretch you out with his thick length, making the both of you moan.

You grip Johnny's thigh in front of you for leverage as Simon slowly starts to fuck you.

"Fuckkk love, such a tight little pussy. You're fuckin' perfect." He says as he grips your hips, beginning to go faster.

Soon, he's slamming into you from behind and pulling almost all the way out so you can feel every detail of his cock in you, rubbing against your walls perfectly. The damp skin from the rain making the clapping noises louder than normal and both men watch how the water makes your ass shiny.

He speeds up, thrusting you forward into Johnny and he grabs your chin so you look up at him.

You're whining and whimpering despite your panties shoved in your mouth, Simon's cock pounding your pussy just right and Johnny holds your chin in his fingers so he can watch you cry from pleasure.

"Aww look at that. Poor little lass can't take it. That cock feels too good hm? Look so pretty crying like that. Such a wee pretty thing." Johnny coos at you as he runs his thumb over your lips again spread apart from your panties stuffed between them.

Then, Johnny grabs your hair and smushes your face against his erection, cheek squishing against him harder pushing you forward each time Simon thrusts into you.

"Yeah feel that? You ready for my fat cock? See what you do to me lass?" Johnny says, rutting against your cheek and Simon delivers a few smacks to your ass and grunts each time you squeeze around him.

Johnny unbuttons his tac pants and pulls them down just enough to see his bulge through his boxers and he pulls your cheek against it by your hair as he continues to rut against you.

"Fuck lass, could cum just from that cute little face rubbin' against my cock like that." Johnny pants out, still holding your hair and you let out a muffled whine making both men laugh.

"Fuck listen to that little snatch take that cock. Such a greedy pussy." Simon says as you hear the lewd, wet plapping noises coming from your pussy every time Simon thrusts, his balls slapping your clit and his thighs hitting into the backs of yours.

"Fuck bunny you're drippin' all over me." Simon says exasperated.

Your eyes have been unfocused this whole time from the pleasure and Johnny takes your panties out of you mouth and throws it back to Simon, where he pockets it in his tac pants. Johnny then takes his cock out, and gives it a few strokes before tapping it against your lips.

"C'mon dollie, open up. Time to fill that pretty little mouth with somethin' better." He says with a smirk and you oblige.

You take Johnny in your mouth and your eyes roll back at his warmth and size, his weight against your tongue so much better than you could've ever imagined.

You moan around him and lazily suck him off, drifting away from Simon fucking you so good and Johnny's cock in your mouth.

"Ah-ah." Johnny lightly smacks your cheek a few times to get your attention back.

"Eyes on me. Wanna see you suck me off." He says and you moan, liking being slapped by him.

"Fuck Johnny do that to her again. Made her clench so fucking hard." Simon whimpers from behind you gripping onto your hips and leaning over you a bit.

"Yeah? You like getting slapped around?" Johnny asks as begins to thrust into your mouth making you gag, making both men moan from the sensation it gave them.

Johnny then starts to thrust into your mouth as ruthlessly as Simon is, abusing your soaking swollen cunt and your drooling mouth.

Johnny slaps your face again and you moan around him, clenching around Simon again as your eyes roll back.

"What a perfect little fuck toy. Letting me slap her around however I want. So fucking good." Johnny moans out.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum lovey. Let me fill this sweet little pussy up. Need to fill up this cute little cunt." Simon pants in your ear, now leaning his chest on your back, one hand holding him up and the other rubbing your clit.

Johnny face fucks you harder, one hand in your hair and the other squeezing your cheeks together as he fucks your face, using you as a fleshlight.

You cross your eyes and roll them back from the pleasure, letting out muffled "mm hms" encouraging the men to keep fucking you and also letting them know how close you are.

"Fuck I'm gonna fill this pretty little mouth of yours. You want that? Both of us to fill you up hm? Creampie you from both ends? C'mon do it. Cum for us and then you'll get it dollie." Johnny says and you do.

For the second time that night your pussy contracts harder than before making Simon whimper and it almost hurts how tight you're throbbing around him. You moan around Johnny's cock as he continues to face fuck you and Simon's hips start to stutter. You feel so euphoric you can barely hold yourself up as your whole body convulses with one of the best orgasms you've ever had.

"Fuck that's it. Milk me with that fucking cunt. I- mmph." Simon says before he's nuzzling his face in the side of your neck, death grip on your hips as he cums inside of you, his cheeks flushing pink from the release and pleasure.

It doesn't take too long for Johnny to cum in your mouth either, and he does so with a grunt and a moan as he spills into your mouth and over his hand, his cum leaking out of your mouth from your cheeks he has squeezed together making a mess over his fingers and your chin.

You all take a seconds to come back from your highs, and situate yourselves in a more comfortable position in the back seat.

"Fuck. That was.." Johnny says.

"Not long enough." Simon finishes his sentences with a smirk.

"You ok love?" Simon asks and you nod, still wiping your mouth.

"Yeah. I'm good." You smile all fucked out making them laugh at the state they've put you in.

They help you fix your shirt that isn't much of a shirt anymore and put your pants back on.

Just as you all get your clothes back on and situated, you see headlights coming towards you and realize it's Price and Laswell just in time.

And how you three are going to explain your wet panties sticking out of Simon's pocket, is a problem for later when you get back to base.

CREDIT TO @captainswhore FOR THIS DELICIOUS IDEA OF JOHNNY GOING FERAL OVER YOU IN A WET WHITE T-SHIRT RAHHHHH

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calumfmu · 8 days

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PLEASEEEE can we get a sequel to steddie fighting over reader ?? maybe they get together to confront reader and realise they could have a lot more fun if they work together ;))

I've been working on it babe and here it is !! Hope you enjoyed it as much as I had fun writing it. I love this dynamic I have going on, and I hope to continue it. So send me some requests regarding these three, and I'll deliver <3 (also Jesus Christ it’s a long one: 4.2k+ words) Steddie x reader who is playing them both (part two to this) cw: smut, smut, smut, threesome, swearing, 18+, mdni, angst, eating out reader, mentions of Steddie relationship? situationship? idk man, blowjob, unprotected sex, eiffel tower (let’s gooo), fingering, facial, creampie,

The last few weeks have been hell for you. Or heaven, if you could call it that. Both boys yearning for your attention, spending as much time as they could in your presence, one dropping you off only to be picked up an hour later by the other. Constant touches and moments shared in a secret rendezvous between the two of them. The interchanged teenage boy libido was wearing you out day by day, nothing like you had experienced before.

Steve lay beside you, panting as his chest was exposed to the night air, chest hair wet with sweat that dripped down the muscle. He passed his discarded shirt to you for you to wipe down the evidence of the events that just occurred. You were stretched out across the scrappy picnic blanket that lay in the dirt, lake water trickling behind you.

"So, I was thinking..." He began, pulling his shirt over his head. You eyed it, not recognizing the pattern printed on the front. It did look familiar, but nothing of the sort that seemed to be in the boys closet.

"Oh God." You teased, eyes widening at his words. He lightly slapped your arm, rolling his eyes at your comment before buttoning up his jeans.

"Seriously, I was thinking maybe we could, uhh... spend the night together?" He cleared his throat as you got dressed, speeding up your movements as you searched the lake bank for anyone who might pass by. It was uncommon this time of night, but something you should be wary of as Lover's Lake seemed to be a damn near tourist destination these days.

You shot him a look, crinkling your brow. "Tonight?"

He nodded, "Yeah... we finally got that Molly Ringwald movie you wanted to see. I snagged it before we could shelf it, but it's gotta be returned before Keith notices."

You pursed your lips together, toying with the hem of your sock as you refused to meet his eyes. He continued his words, flipping over his stomach to lean closer to you.

"I was thinking me, you, the movie. I could make you my world-famous dish that I've only made for... myself, but hey... I could use a critic. Then in the morning, we could take a trip out of town to--"

"Steve," you gently said, touching his arm as you finally met his eyes. His expression immediately soured, eyes darting away from you. "I can't tonight. Maybe t--"

"Tomorrow? Next week even? " He rushed, irritation filling his words as he sat up suddenly. He began gathering the items that lay around you, tossing your shoe in your general direction.

You were shocked, faltering in your movements as you took him in. This wasn't what you were used to, this wasn't the Steve that had stolen your heart in the past few months.

"Woah, what's up?"

Your voice was shaky as he pulled you to your feet, balling up the blanket that you once lied on. He threw it into his trunk, not bothering to shake the dirt off of it. His once pristine trunk was littered with brown, speckles of Earth settling into the carpeted crevice. Your shoe was half way on, heel sticking out as he rounded the side of the vehicle to the driver's seat.

"What's up?" He repeated to you, venom dripping out of his words. The car clicked as he unlocked it, you sliding into the passenger as he began to start it up. His movements were so fast you could barely keep up with them. "You seriously want to know what's up?"

He fumbled with the keys in the ignition, turning the key over and over before you placed a hand on his wrist, halting the repetition.

"Steve."

His chest immediately fell with a deep exhale, his fingers loosening before he turned his head to you. His brown eyes met yours, wide and filled with an emotion you couldn't quite touch on.

"Steve." His name on your mouth felt like a plea for help, wondering what happened to the Harrington boy that you were so used to.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, bringing his hands to his face as his head fell against the head rest. He ran them through his hair. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"I just..." Chewing at your bottom lip, you didn't know how to start your next words. "I have plans with Eddie..."

His eyes rolled shut, hands falling to his side before he opened them to look at you. Silence filled the air accompanied by the nervous tap of your foot against the floor of the car.

"Yeah, I know." His whisper felt like a bullet, punching you through your chest, bleeding into your veins.

"You know?"

He laughed, a bitter sound making your skin crawl. "How could I not?"

"I'm sorry, I—"

"It's fine," he ended his words with your name, a sound you normally would love to hear coming from his mouth. In this moment, it sounded like a curse. "I—I just knew. Just like Robin said, you're terrible at it. Playing dumb."

Your mouth sputtered open, losing all words that could even begin to make an excuse.

"You go to his house when you're done over here. Days with me. Nights with him. I know the whole thing," he continued, counting on his fingers with every point he made. You nodded, agreeing with him as it was the only thing you could do in that moment.

"Are—are you mad at me?"

You felt like a little girl at this moment, getting chastised by your father even if the comparison was inappropriate. The only answer you got was Steve starting his car, putting it in reverse as he made his way to your house to drop you off.

The two of you sat in silence for the ride, your heart hanging heavy as he drove, Steve filled with an emotion you couldn't quite pinpoint—anger? Rage? Disdain? You weren't sure, whatever it was, he kept it to himself.

He pulled up to your place, lips pressed together as a goodbye as you turned to look at him before getting out. The door sat open, your leg half way out as you started him down, his gaze focused on the way his fingers gripped the steering wheel.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then?" You tried, smiling hopefully in his direction. He nodded, not yet meeting your eyes.

"Yeah, see you at 10."

Your face dropped, the mention of your shared shift starting having all hopes crushed. You were hoping he had mentioned something other than the start of the shift, that he was going to talk about taking you out, but you knew that ship had sailed. Whatever you had going on between the two of you—it was ruined.

Your exit was silent as you fled, shutting the door softly behind you before making it up your walk way. Tears stung at your eyes as you fought the emotion. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Your distraction was found in the sheets of Eddie's bed, the older man on top of you, half dressed as he kissed you. Steve lingered in the back of your mind, not dared spoken to him as you didn't want a repeat of the scenario that had occurred.

Eddie's kisses were soft, different than he normally did. He normally was fast, rough, strict black compared to Steve's white. Shaking your head, you placed a hand at the back of his head, pulling him further into you. He moaned into the touch, rutting his hips into yours as his hand pulled at the bra strap at your shoulder.

"Needy babe," he whispered to you in between kisses, pulling away to place his mouth under your ear. Your head crooked to the side, arching into him as the heat of his body overwhelmed any rational thought.

"Eddie—" You began, moaning at his touch. His fingers lowered the strap, dancing into the cup of your bra to grasp at your boob. Goosebumps chilled your body, prickling at the surface of your skin. "I need you."

"You need me, baby?"

The rasp in his voice had you falling apart under his touch, head pressed back into the mattress as bliss flooded your brain.

"I need you."

He hummed in response, trailing his mouth down the expanse of your neck. As his lips found your collarbones, you spread your legs even wider, your hands running down his sides. His tattooed skin felt like silk underneath your grasp, warmth shared in the touch.

"Is this okay?" You looked down to see him pressing kisses to your stomach, trailing lower and lower as gasps fled your mouth. His hands found the hem of your panties, pulling them down slightly as he buried his head between your thighs. The touch of his tongue on you had you gasping for more, fingers tangled in the sheets as he started his touches of pleasure.

He started out fast, tongue toying at your clit as your underwear was pulled down, still resting at your thighs, not yet free. Heat pooled between your legs, wetness dripping out of you. You loved the way he touched you, the way he kissed you.

"Fuck, Eddie—"

He hummed against you, tongue dipping into your hole as he pulled your underwear down further to gain access. Your legs were a bit more free of restriction, thighs pulling at the stretch of fabric.

"I need-" You began, shouting out at the brush of his thumb against your heat. He began to massage you, small circles rubbed against you.

"Need me more than Stevie?"

Your heart lurched at the name, not quite sure if you heard it correctly. Placing a hand at his head, you pushed him off of you, sitting up at your elbows to look at him. He was smug as the cold air hit you, your legs closing at the exposure.

"Wh-what did you say?"

A smirk played on his mouth, his fingers returning to your hips as he pulled you down the mattress closer to him. He leaned into his previous perch, pressing a kiss to your pubic bone. You didn't react, brows furrowed as you stared him down. He shushed you, returning his mouth to your wet cunt as he continued his pleasure to you. Your head fell against the mattress, eyes fluttering shut once again.

As his tongue worked you, his comment lingered, questions filling your senses. Did he say what he did? Or was your mind playing tricks, still caught up on the interaction earlier? A whine escaped you as a finger slipped partly inside of you, digit stretching you open with his tongue.

"Bet little Steve could never have you like this."

You heard it clear this time, your hands pushing him completely off of you before you sat upright, clawing at your underwear to be pulled up your hips.

"What the fuck was that, Eddie?"

It was your turn to be mad, the venom that lingered in Steve's words transferring to your own. Eddie's smug look only angered you more, features serious as his own were teasing.

"Just stating the obvious," he shrugged, leaning on one hand as the other reached down to adjust himself in his boxers. You briefly followed the movement, noticing how hard he was in his pants.

"What are you trying to get at?" You spat at him, already throwing on your clothes. Eddie watched you, eyebrows raised as you rushed it. You pushed off of the bed, searching for your shoe as the mess of his room was suddenly hitting you. "How do you live like this? It's so fucking messy in here."

He remained silent as you scrambled, flipping things over as you searched. That stupid smirk was ever present on his face, top teeth dug into his bottom lip.

"I don't know what you're talking about, and it shouldn't matter. Even if it is better," you continued, hopping on one foot as you located your sock. You struggled slipping it on, bra strap hanging off your shoulder, peeking out of your top. "In some ways, but not all, he is really good at that one thin—not like it matters. And not like I would even know."

He hummed in response, eyebrows raised as you knew he didn't believe a single thing you were saying. He found humour in the situation. It made you more mad.

"Anyways—I don't want to talk about Steve. I don't want to talk about it with you," you stomped your socked foot, height unbalanced as the platform of your one Mary-Jane stood in the carpet.

"Right," he nodded sarcastically, still seated on the bed as you made your fit. "Under the desk."

You crossed your arms over your chest, continuing your point, "I'm with you right now, it shouldn't matt—What?"

His finger pointed across his room, your eyes following it as you located your other shoe, sitting there on its side, under the small desk covered in figurines, music sheets. Grumbling, you crossed the room before slipping it on.

His laugh echoed through the room as you turned to face him again, pout on your lips. You hated when he was right.

"So... should I take you home now or do you want to continue your little temper tantrum?"

Your mouth dropped open at his words, leaning over at the waist towards him as he seemed so fucking smug. His laughter only deepened, his head shaking at your dramatization.

"I'm walking home."

He shook his head, standing off the bed as he grabbed his discarded jeans. The black denim slid over his legs as he hopped slightly, buttoning them up while staring you down.

"I'm taking you home, sweetheart, it's like midnight."

"No. I'm walking."

You stood firm, turning to throw open the door. You began to storm through the trailer, stomps shaking the pictures that stood on the walls. Wayne sat in the living area, cold beer in one hand, TV remote in the other. His eyes met the scene that entered, you storming through, arms crossed in front of you with Eddie high on your heels, van keys in hand.

"Babe—"

You swiveled around, halting both of your movements as you leaned closer to him.

"I. Am. Walking."

Wayne looked between the two of you, snorting under his breath as he watched his nephew stand in his place, you crossing the floor to the front door. Eddie didn't know what to do, mouth dropped open as you gave him the first bit of attitude he thought you had ever given. You pulled the door open, cold air breezing in. Turning to the middle aged man, you nodded your head in a greeting.

"Goodnight, Wayne," you smiled at him before turning to a scowl, head tilting in Eddie's direction. "Eddie."

The door swung shut behind you as you descended the small flight of steps. The trailer nearly shook as the metal made contact with the frame, loud into the night air.

Eddie stood there, gobsmacked as his keys dangled from his fingers. Wayne had his focused back on the television, some fishing show playing on the static of the box.

"Nice one, son." He muttered, shaking his head as he took a swig of the beer. "What'd you do now?"

"Uncle Wayne, please—"

Eddie's hands shook in the air before turning on his heel, returning to his room with a slam of his own door. Wayne shook his head again, snorting again as he looked at the front door and then to his nephews.

"Teenagers."

A dark hoodie was pulled over you head, black sunglasses sitting on your face as you leaned over the counter, sat in a chair Robin had pulled out for you. You weren't supposed to be in that day, disguise on you as you were wary to see sight of either boy.

"You look the exact same," Robin muttered, leaning on her elbow, one hand running across the cracked counter of the video store.

"Robin, shut up," you replied, ducking your head even further. Steve was nowhere to be seen, his shift not yet started. She laughed at you, shooting a look to a group of middle schoolers who were daring each other to sneak past the 'Adults Only' curtain.

"You look like you, but in disguise," she laughed, shaking her head at you as you looked around the store.

"That's the whole point, dingus."

"How long are you planning on avoiding the two of them again?"

You rolled your eyes behind the shades, pulling the hoodie further down over your head.

"Until they both forget I exist."

"Yeah, doubt that's going to happen. Steve hasn't stopped talking about you since the last time you saw him, and I see Eddie's van lingering in the parking lot, like a stalker," she said, sighing as she watched your paranoia. "You know, if they ever make a movie or something about the Richard Ramirez guy down in California, Eddie could definitely play him. Maybe he should get into acting!"

You gave her a deadpan look, mouth pressed into a thin line.

"You're losing the point, Robs."

She shrugged, sitting up as her hands found the counter. Her chipped black nails stretched in front of you, tapping patterns into the wood.

"I'm just saying, they're not going to forget about you or what happened two weeks ago."

"But I can try, no?"

The preteens who were terrorizing the store ran around, knocking over displays as they pretended to shoot at each other with finger guns. Robin shouted at them, fingers snapping in their direction.

"No, you cannot," her finger pointed at you, emphasizing her point. "You had to know this was bound to happen."

Groaning, you shrunk into your seat, hands at your head. "I know, but not like this."

"Well, I don't know what I'm supposed to say here," she said, grimacing a fake-smile (could you call it that?) at an older gentleman who came up, glasses huge against his oily face. He pushed his way to the counter, a little too close and personal to the two of you.

You both leaned out of his space, look bleak as he proceeded to ask about a movie.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Robin answered, typing into the computer as he supplied details of it. She searched the stores inventory, typing and retyping star names as he gave the wrong ones. "A stranger? Calling? 1979, really?"

He nodded in response, insistent on the description. You watched the interaction unfold, eyes darting between the pair.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, clearing his throat. The hacking of his throat had the two of you leaning further out of his reach. "1979, with that Carol Kane chick."

"Chick?" She muttered under breath, eyebrows flitting at the word. You laughed at her, her reaction being one of the reasons why you loved her so much. She typed some more, pausing as a title finally appeared on the screen. "I think I got it."

The slow computer loaded, pixel by pixel as details emerged. She leaned in closer, reading the details aloud.

"Ahh, When a Stranger Calls," she nodded, typing more information to search for its location in the store. Your eyebrows raised slightly, realization dawning on you. Your head suddenly felt more clear. "Girl gets calls from a stranger, finds out it isn't a prank, that whole slasher thing."

You stood up out of the chair, the furniture tilting back to slam onto the floor. Both Robin and the older man jumped at the loud noise, eyeing you as you pointed towards your best friend.

"That's it!"

The man grumbled, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I think I was being helped first."

You waved your hand in his direction, focused on Robin who started at you, wide eyed. "I'm going to call them! Explain that I was serious about them both, but couldn't decide and break it off tonight! With them both!"

Robin squinted her eyes at your exclamation, not following.

"I think you missed the point," she said, annoyed look on her face.

"No, that's it!" You cheered, smile wide as you took the glasses off of your face. "Thank you, Robs. Oh my God, I owe you."

You turned to run out the store, giddy with emotion as Robin stood behind you, confused as always when it came to you. A bleak 'you're welcome?' followed you out there as you ran into the street. Your plan for later was much clearer now, anxious emotions fleeing as you made your way towards home.

You chewed on your fingernail, tapping your foot against your kitchen linoleum, glass of wine in your other hand. They were supposed to be here any moment, the two of them supposed to be arriving separately, hours in between so things could go smoothly. You were expecting them to tear each other apart, fight to the death or something of the sort right in your driveway. Hours before, two separate phone calls had orchestrated, different time slots reserved for the heartbreaking conversations that were to take place.

The calls had gone smoothly, only for you to spiral hours later, red wine being your only escape into a less anxious state of mind. You expected it to be okay, the in-person talk, yet could only think of the worst case scenario at hand.

The shrill ringing of the doorbell pulled you out of your thoughts, your heart racing with every step you took towards the front door. You took a deep breath before opening it, Steve and Eddie both standing there to your surprise.

Your mouth dropped open, eyes wide as you looked between them two. Beginning to close the door, Eddie's hand shot out, stopping the movement.

"Hey, sweetheart," he beamed, tilting his head to the side. Steve gave him a look, eye roll in place at the nickname.

"Sweetheart?" Steve grumbled, hands resting on his hips.

"What—how did—why are you guys here?" You muttered, stepping aside as the two of them walked in. You remained frozen, eyes staring outside, where they once stood as they began to make themselves comfortable In your home.

Steve cleared his throat, pulling you from your trance. Reluctantly, you shut the door, turning to them as you gripped the wine glass in your hand.

Eddie stood, leaned against one of the walls in the foyer, Steve dead center in the small room.

"You invited us over, remember?" Eddie supplied, smile on his lips. Your eyes widened, darting back and forth between the duo. You shook your head rapidly, walking past them to the living room as they began to follow you.

You turned to them, a large swig being taken from the glass. "No! No! I invited you-" You pointed towards Eddie, "-over. And then him."

"Looks like you got two for the price of one," Eddie's stupid smug look had you faint, breath shallow as you moved to sit down, the Earth feeling shaky beneath you. He moved to sit beside you, legs splayed wide as he spread himself on the couch. Steve remained in place, arms crossed over his chest as he took in the sight.

"No, that's not—It wasn't su-"

"Supposed to be like this?" Steve spoke, his voice filling the air, drawing you from your thoughts. You looked at him, moving to take another drink from the glass, only to find it empty. He watched your hands, gripping the glass until your skin turned paler than your normal complexion.

Eddie leaned in your direction, hand coming out to rest at your thigh. You and Steve’s eyes followed the motion, time standing still.

“So, what did you want to speak with us about sweetheart?” The emphasis on their pairing echoed in the spacious living area, his vowels drawing out with an exaggeration that had your heart sinking.

“I just wanted to…” you cleared your throat, leaning to place the empty wine glass on the coffee table. “I was going to tell you that this isn’t working anymore.”

Steve’s eyebrows raised from his side of the coffee fable, he let out a low whistle at the words.

“Working with who?”

“Both. Both of you.” The two men nodded at your words, staring you down as you formulated your next words.

“You can’t keep up with the both of us?” Eddie asked, thumb beginning to rub small circles on your knee. Subconsciously, your knee began to pull closer to his, a familiar feeling settling in the pit of your stomach.

“You want me to choose one of you, and I can’t do that,” you sighed, placing your hand over his. He grinned at the touch, leaning into you even closer. Steve shifted nervously, watching the two of you. Even from here, you felt guilty, you making contact with the older man felt like you were choosing.

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve spoke up, moving to sit on the other side of you. You felt caged in.

A deep sigh left you, nerves returning as your sides began to warm up, the heat from their bodies entering you in the close proximity.

“I-I do, and it’s not fair.”

Your voice remained small as you removed your hand from him, clasping them in your lap. Leaning your back against the couch cushion, you found comfort in the ceiling, eyes searching the white paint.

“You’re right. It’s not fair,” Steve said, placing his own hand on your thigh.

It rested higher than Eddie’s, his own eyes acknowledging that and taking it as competition. His fingers left your knee, drifting up until it rested where your hip bone was. A shuttered gasp left your mouth, legs twitching under the contact. He leaned into you, mouth brushing the cusp of your ear, lips softly brushing the skin.

“You don’t have to choose just one,” he whispered, your eyes widening at the tone in his voice. “You could have us both.”

You shot up, shaking their hands off of you as you rose from the couch. Steve rose his hands in defense, while Eddie remained still, leaning on the couch cushion in the same position he was speaking to you. Looking in between them both, you were ready for them both to start laughing, pointing fingers at you, hell, even Robin coming out of somewhere and joining in on the joke.

“That’s not funny, Eddie.”

He shrugged, corners of his mouth downturning as you stared him down. The look on his face was still in good humour, glimmer behind his eyes.

“I’m not kidding. Stevie here was the one who suggested it.”

Your eyes cut to the him, disbelief in every inch of your body. He had been the most territorial of this entire ordeal, making lewd comments about Eddie that made you assume he couldn’t stand him, let alone even suggest this.

“Steve?” The shake behind your voice had him reaching up to you, placing a hand on your hip. You stepped away from it, eyes slightly dropping when he looked disappointed.

“You weren’t going to choose,” his voice seemed hesitant. “I wasn’t going to make you. And if you like Eddie… as much as you like me, I figured it would work.”

Eddie snorted, grabbing your hand to pull him into you despite your protest. You fell into his lap, snug against his hips with your legs in Steve’s direction.

“I think you mean as much as she likes me, pretty boy,” he blew a kiss in the younger’s direction, winking to follow. Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the gesture. You lingered on his face, noticing how his cheeks reddened ever so slightly. Eddie’s hand found your cheek, cupping it as he brought your gaze to him.

Inches away from his face, your noses brushed each other, your breath getting caught in the back of your throat. Slowly, your mouths met, lips parted as his fit perfectly in between. His tongue ran over your bottom lip, a small nip given to you. You felt a hand run across your calf, pulling away from Eddie to see Steve, eyes running over the sight of your legs, palms spreading over your skin.

Eddie pulled you into a kiss again, your eyes unmoving from Steve as he leaned over to place a few kisses at the bend of your knee. You gasped into his mouth, spreading your legs as Steve began to spread his love across your skin.

“Wait, I—” all hands left your skin, leaving you feeling naked. The two of them waited for your next move, eyes blinking in anticipation. “Steve, you’re okay with this?”

He slowly nodded, seemingly thinking over the answer. He opened his mouth to speak, words getting caught in your throat.

“I—yeah, I am. I mean, uhh, I’d do anything for you,” his voice was sincere, quiet into the room as Eddie began pressing his mouth to your neck. You craned your neck, eyes fluttering shut at the press of his mouth.

“And Eddie?” Your voice strained, moan intertwined with it.

He nodded vehemently, teeth scraping against your jugular. He mumbled against you, “Fuck yes. The two of you are, like, insanely hot.”

Steve blushed at his words, dipping his chin as he leaned over you, kissing you the length of your legs until he reached your hipbones. You were stretched across Eddie’s lap, his hands running madly over your torso. With your eyes closed, you felt absolute bliss, mouths pressed against you, hands running wild, soft moans filling in the air in which you could barely decipher who they were coming from.

Steve’s fingers reached for your waistline, moving to bring down your shorts, only to be stopped by your fingers at his wrist. His eyes looked up at you, mouth parted open in surprise.

“There’s no way we’re doing this on the couch,” you said, standing up and pulling the two of them with you. “My parents are gonna kill me.”

They followed close behind you, trailing up the stairs as you lead them to your room. As your bedroom door swung open, you barely had time to walk in the room before Eddie was lifting you up, pushing you down on the bed before crawling over you. He was pulling off both of your clothes in a rush, throwing them all around the room in between getting his mouth anywhere he could touch.

“I think they might kill you for a couple of different reasons, sweetheart,” he gestured towards himself and Steve, swallowing the laugh that escaped you with his lips.

The bed dipped as Steve settled down next to you, kneeling from where you two were tangled amidst each other. Reaching for Steve’s shirt, you paused, realizing where this familiar graphic had came from.

“You’re wearing Eddie’s shirt,” you deadpanned, arching your back as Eddie kissed down your body, pulling your underwear down with his downward trail. The cold air hit your skin, wetness pooled between your thighs.

Steve’s cheeks reddened again, a nod coming before he crossed his arms at his chest, pulling it over his head.

“We had to, uhh, test things out earlier,” he quickly said, leaning down to kiss you. His mouth on yours for the first time that evening felt like heaven, a piece you didn’t realize was missing.

You slapped at his chest, mouth dropping.

“You’ve been playing me this entire time!”

Eddie’s tongue found you, circling your clit lightly before he delved in, mouth firmly planted at the nub. A curse fell from your mouth, hands shooting down to tug at his hair. Your head fell back against the duvet cover, Steve’s hand running through your hair as you tried to find your breathing.

It was sloppy, his tongue working you as loud noises filled the room. He ate you like he was starved, lapping up your wetness, diving his tongue into you, kissing the junction of where your thighs met. He looked up at you, hair falling into his eyes as he flicked his tongue, drawing pleasure from the sensitive nub.

“We had to beat you at your own game,” Steve whispered, pulling down his boxers until he sprung out, cock dripping. Your mouth fell open at the sight, tongue running over you bottom lip. He began to run a hand over it, fingers trailing from his wet head to his shaft, spreading a layer of the precum everywhere.

Leaning up on an elbow, you reached for him, wrapping your fingers around him before pressing your lips to the head. He groaned, fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you down on him, your mouth stretching wide the lower you swallowed him.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he groaned, hips making small thrusts as you sucked at him, cheeks hollowing.

Drool began to pool at the corner of your mouth, small groans caught in your throat as Eddie continued to tongue fuck you, his fingers running lightly over you clit. Your hips squirmed, trying to get more of him on you.

You pulled off of Steve, working him with your fist as you looked down at him.

“Need more, Eds.”

He nodded, smirking around you as he slipped in two fingers, pushing them to the knuckle, a curl in them. Your head tilted back a little bit, eyes briefly shutting at the pleasure that found you. A whine fell from you, your body tensing as he crooked his fingers, moving fast as squelching sounds began to fill the air.

Steve’s hand in your hair tightened, pulling you closer to him as your grip on him loosened.

“Okay, time to focus, baby,” he whispered, hand tight in your hair, the other placed on your chin, pulling you mouth open before you wrapped your lips around him. It was hard to even think straight, the feeling of his heavy cock on your tongue, Eddie’s tongue and fingers against you clouding every bit of judgement you had.

Your other hand rose to cup Steve’s balls, rolling them behind your fingers as he pushed you down to deep throat him. You couldn’t even be mad, used to the roughness he gave you, him often seeking his own high as fast as possible, he knew you loved feeling used in moments like this. Choking around him, you swirled your tongue on the underside of his dick, moaning at the pulse it gave you.

Eddie’s fingers gave you one last curl, that final push to your sweet spot that had your legs pulled up, squeezing around his head as you came, whining around Steve. He didn’t stop, fingering you through it, lapping at you as you shook below him, back arching off the bed as you squeezed your eyes shut. As you came down, the overstimulation hit you, aching between your legs as you pushed him off of you.

A laugh was heard as he crawled up to where you were sucking at Steve, body turned now to face him completely. Eddie’s ringed hand came up to lace with Steve’s, strands of your hair getting caught between your fingers.

“Aw, look at you, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s voice was rough, crouched down on the bed inches away from where your mouth met Steve.

He held eye contact with you, your hooded eyes watering at the way the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. His tongue traced over his lips as he stared down at your mouth working the younger man.

“Need more?” He asked you in a whisper, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You nodded, pulling off of Steve to catch your breath. He whined at the loss of contact, cock so swollen now you were sure that it hurt.

Eddie patted your hip, bringing you to your knees. You kneeled on all fours, ass sticking up as Eddie began to move towards you. Steve’s hand shot out, gripping his shoulder.

“No fucking way, Munson,” he hissed, squeezing the base of his cock. Eddie rolled his eyes at him, pushing at his shoulder as Steve scrambled to get behind you instead. He stumbled over his boxers still pushed to the bottom of his thighs as he kicked them off, finally rising to his knees behind you.

“Come on, big boy,” you giggled, mocking Eddie’s nickname, wiggling your hips in his direction.

A hand placed at the base of your spine pushing you down as he ran a hand over his dick a few times, eyes rolling at you.

“Shut up,” he exhaled, pushing into you slowly as you stretched around him. The slow push inside had the two of you groaning, your fingers clawing at the sheets, you found Eddie’s hip, gripping at it tightly.

Eddie rose to his knees, bringing your body up with him.

“Ready?” He asked you, nodding along with you before he guided his cock into your mouth. He moved slowly, your head bobbing along him as you rocked from the thrusts that Steve gave you.

Being filled from both ends had you blinded in pleasure, eyes rolled back to your head as the two men began to use you. It started slow, the combined movements of their hips in sync. Your body felt limp, jolting with their movement, mouth wide, stretched full.

Steve found his rhythm, taking charge as he began to pound into you, hands on your hips, pulling you back into him. The harshness of it had you choking on Eddie, gagging around him, cock thick and dripping into the back of your throat. Loud slaps filled the air, Steve’s grunts accompanying the noise.

“You look so perfect, princess.”

You looked up at Eddie, tears prickling in your eyes. That white hot familiar heat bubbled within you, already at your breaking point. The two men were no match for you, you were turned on beyond belief.

“Fuck, look how good you’re taking him.”

Steve’s words this time, his voice low and raspy—mind in a different headspace. He was relentless, driving into you so fast, you were running from it, arching your hips down as the head of his dick began to press onto your cervix.

“Come here,” he grunted, driving your hips back onto him. You were pulled off of Eddie, a cry of pleasure and pain, you weren’t quite sure which one yet leaving you.

“Ca-can’t. ‘S too much.”

Your head shook, eyes squeezed shut as you pushed your hips back against him anyways. Eddie’s fingers found your chin again, pulling your head in his direction.

“Baby,” he whispered, you shaking your head as Steve fucked you, speeding up as he began to near his high. Your legs shook with pleasure, wetness dripping from you at this point.

“Look at him,” Steve grunted, pressing deep as he drove into you.

Your eyes shot open, squinting up at Eddie, his hair sticking to his neck and shoulders as the air became more dense. He guided you back onto him, keeping your mouth only at his tip as he jerked the rest of his length. His chest began to rise and fall rapidly, his tell tale sign of his own release.

“Oh, fuck.”

Steve’s whisper under his breath had his hips stilling, spilling into you with his hot, sticky release. He thrusted a few more times, pushing his cum deeper, some of it spilling out the sides of his cock. Pulling out of you, he leaned down, licking at your hole, stretched from his brutal force earlier.

It only took a few licks from him, licking at his own release, to have you screaming again, legs shaking as your own orgasm coursed through your body. It was the best one you think you’d ever experienced, mind going fuzzy, abdomen tensing, rolling waves of euphoria through your spine.

“Fuck, Steve—” Eddie groaned, jerking himself faster before pulling himself out of your mouth. “Are you— ah, fuck.”

His sentence cut off, cum spurting from his dick all over your face, the angle having it drip down your cheeks, lips, and all over your chin. It felt warm against you as you came down from your high, eyes fluttering shut and your tongue sticking out to catch the rest of it. Eddie groaned even more, pushing the head of his cock onto the flat of your mouth, smearing his release all over it.

You swallowed it, smiling up at the way he stared down out you, that dark look in his eyes. Steve collapsed next to the two of you, laying on his back as he rubbed a hand over his chest.

“You guys are so hot,” he mumbled to himself, not meaning to be heard. The two of you laughed at his words, Eddie leaning over to grab his shirt to wipe off your face.

He was gentle with the touch, wiping down your face with the material as he looked lovingly at you. The interaction was comical, the adoration he gave you while wiping his literal cum off of you.

The three of you settled in, Steve on his back, you laying across him, cheek on his sternum as Eddie laid on top of you, his own head on your hip.

“Did you guys really know I was talking to you both at the same time?” You asked, voice small. Eddie snorted, shaking his head before Steve reached out and slapped him. He shushed him, cutting him a look. They seemed to be in on some inside joke you weren’t apart of.

“Hey, I don’t like that you guys are keeping secrets now,” you whined, reaching down to rub at the top of Eddie’s head. He leaned into the touch, pressing a kiss to your hip.

“No, it was, uhh, Robin,” Steve confessed, rushing out his words in one breath. Your eyes widened, looking at him in shock. Eddie stifled a laugh, coughing to cover his tracks.

“I’m going to kill her,” you said. You shouldn’t have been surprised that she said something after, you knew your best friend to start shit, always lurking in quiet corners.

Covering your face with your hands, you let out a groan. You felt Steve’s body shake with laughter, his own hands coming up to pull your hands away.

“Shh, it’s fine,” he joked, rubbing circles into your hair. You shook your head, a deep sigh coursing through you.

“I mean, look where we are now,” Eddie whispered, wrapping his arms around you as he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, settling into you as he began to search for sleep. You felt it creeping onto you, energy drained.

“I’m still confused on what this even is.” Steve hummed in agreement, his hands stilling on you as he closed his own eyes.

The three of you fell into a pattern of slow breaths, slight shifts that moved the other person’s body, yet still one together. These two around you were the missing pieces you figured you were missing your entire life, emptiness deep in the pit of your soul that you’d never figured would be missing. Being with them separately was one thing, but together it made sense.

“I’m sure we can figure it out, hon,” Eddie mumbled, pulling you closer to him. Steve moved with you, a tangle of limbs on top of each other that would soon be the normal.

a/n: this was supposed to come a lot faster than it did, so I’m sorry but here it is :) tags: @emma-munson @username199945

Masterlist. Inbox and requests are open!

#my writing #Steddie x reader #Steddie x you #Steve Harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson x reader #Steddie smut #steve harrington smut #Eddie Munson smut #smut #requests

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touyasdoll · 6 months

Text

Scream 2

this is a follow up to a fic I wrote last year for kinktober, but it’s not necessary to read that one before this one. it can stand alone <3

pairing: ghostface!Dabi x f!reader x ghostface!Hawks

warnings: DARK CONTENT, please be advised. CNC, dubcon, fear play, knife play, home invasion, threesome, double penetration in one hole, eiffel tower for lack of a better term, oral (m!receiving), oral (f!receiving), backshots, also Touya is 6'4 idc what the canon says, au where Hawks actually double crosses the HPSC bc a girl can dream, rough sex, not exactly hair pulling but hair grabbing, face sitting, thigh riding, size kink, dirty talk, biting, marking, overstimulation, mild degradation, praise, impact play (barely), nipple play, breeding, let me know if I missed any please <3

word count: 5.3k

notes: Happy Halloween! 👻🔪🖤

“You’re absolutely sure about this?” Keigo asks as he narrows his golden irises at the white haired man before him on the rooftop.

The sky is dark, especially in this part of the city. The few lights from the rundown buildings and buzzing street lamps provide the only meaningful illumination, as the moon is hidden behind a thick blanket of dark, heavy clouds that promise a storm is coming.

“I’m sure. Don’t sweat it, feathers. Just stick to the plan and everything’ll be fine. Scout’s honor,” Touya replies, flashing a sardonic smile.

“Your honor isn’t exactly worth much,” the hero scoffs. “But I guess I’ll have to take you at your word.”

Keigo’s dressed in his civilian clothes; an all black ensemble consisting of jeans, boots, and a well-fitting hoodie. He’d clearly heeded Touya’s instruction to dress for stealth, while the villain is still dressed in his stitched ensemble.

“That’s a good little bird,” Touya says as he heads for the stairs. “Good luck. You might need it, hero.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, heaving an anxious sigh before he takes off into the cool night air.

You’re just getting ready to turn in for the night. It had been a successful Halloween. You and Touya were able to watch a few spooky movies and take turns passing out candy before he had to leave for whatever PLF business he’s up to tonight.

He actually seemed to enjoy himself whenever it was his turn to answer the door. Maybe it was because he got a kick out of seeing the kids’ reactions to his Ghostface mask, but you have a feeling it was more about seeing your reaction to the mask.

He hasn’t pulled it out since last Halloween, much to your disappointment. He just looks so good in it. You could even do without the theatrics. Just being able to ride him or get railed while he has that damn mask on would be enough.

You were hoping that he’d give you an encore tonight. He did use the code the two of you had established. You vividly remember him slowly lifting off the mask after closing the door on another round of trick-or-treaters and sauntering over to the couch with a mischievous grin on his face.

“Hey, doll. What’s your favorite scary movie?” He’d asked, the question so full of promise, just as it had been last year.

But it was well past midnight now. He’d said that he might be back late tonight, which is usually how it goes when he’s working. Maybe you two could have your fun on another night, you suppose as you retreat to your bedroom.

You change into one of Touya’s t-shirts before you slip beneath the covers and just before you rest your head, your phone rings. Seeing that it’s your boyfriend, you pick it right up.

“Hey, baby,” you greet him, sitting up against the headboard.

Unfortunately, you don’t hear a word that he says. What you do hear is much more terrifying. A loud, sudden thud reverberates throughout the house and you swear it must be coming from your kitchen, but you were just in there hardly a minute ago. Surely, you’d notice someone creeping around your house, right?

Then again, you hadn’t noticed last year. Maybe he was keeping up the tradition after all. Trying to pull the wool over your eyes again to give you a scare. Well, not this year. You know better.

“Sorry, baby. You were breaking up,” you say calmly as you slip out of bed and creep into the hall. “What did you say?”

You’d play along with his little game, but you know that you have no reason to be truly afraid. He’s probably hiding behind a corner somewhere, watching you as you pad about the house in nothing but his t-shirt and your underwear. The thought actually turns you on quite a bit.

“I said I’m about to head home. Sorry things took so long, but I should be back soon. M’not far,” Touya says as he jingles his keys in his hand.

“Okay. I was just about to turn in to bed, but I’ll wait up for you,” you say as you head into the kitchen to turn the light on.

There’s a large duffel bag in the center of the floor and you can’t help but wonder what might be inside. Seems like he’s really trying to up the ante this time. Your insides start twisting with a heady mixture of both excitement and desire, but then you see a figure who seems too short to be your boyfriend step into the other entrance to the kitchen and your heart stops.

“You don’t gotta wait up if you’re tired, doll,” Touya says on the other end of the phone, confirming that it’s definitely not him staring you down in that familiar Ghostface costume.

“Babe,” you whisper, your voice trembling in fear as you take a step back and the masked intruder takes one with you. “S-someone’s in the house.”

“What?” Touya asks and you can hear the fear in his voice as well, which sends your blood pressure through the roof. “Doll, just stay hidden. I will be there as soon as I can. I’m on my way, okay? Where are you?”

“O-okay,” you respond meekly, your voice cracking as you continue to walk backwards.

The intruder keeps at your pace, tilting his head to one side as he studies you. Your eyes are drawn to something glinting in the light as he reveals a blade from behind his robe.

“Doll, where are you? Do they know you’re there?” Touya asks frantically as he fires up the car and takes off.

You only faintly hear his voice and the tires skidding in the background of the call as you freeze up. Everything slows down for just a moment and then the adrenaline kicks in.

You bolt for the front door, only to find that it’s locked from the outside somehow. You try again in vain to jiggle the handle, praying that maybe it’s just stuck, but it’s definitely fucking locked and that causes you to panic all over again.

“Doll? Doll, answer me,” Touya yells loud enough for you to hear it even though you’ve since dropped your phone to your side.

You don’t hear the stranger coming up behind you, but when you look over your shoulder, he’s right there. Close enough to kill you if he wanted.

You scream in fright and drop the phone in your haste to bolt for the back door, but he jumps in your way. He’s on the smaller side, but he seems especially nimble. You aren’t sure you stand much of a chance getting away from him, but you have to try.

You just have to last until Touya gets home. That’s what you keep telling yourself. A mantra that you repeat over and over in your mind as you scramble down the hall and into the first open door.

The slam of the door knocks some sense back into you. You keep your hands pressed against it and take a look around the guest bedroom, eyeing the dresser nearby. It’s mostly empty and it’s not very big, but it’s better than nothing.

A loud bang that sounds like a heavy fist thudding against the wood startles you and you let out a scream before you lurch towards the dresser to start sliding it across the floor.

“Doll? Doll, where are you?” You hear Touya’s voice call out from down the hall.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Do you come out? Touya’s more than capable, but you don’t know what this intruder is capable of. What’s his quirk? What if it’s deadly?

Your heart thumps wildly in your chest as you listen for sounds of a struggle, but your fear of something happening to your boyfriend wins out over your fear of something happening to you.

“Babe?” You call as you burst out of the door, frantically scanning the dimly lit house as you creep down the hall once more.

The kitchen lights have been turned off and it’s quiet. It’s silent. Eerily so. Just when you feel like you might have made a mistake, the stranger turns the corner from the kitchen and holds a voice changer up to his mouth.

“Yes, doll?” He says, tilting his head in a mocking fashion as he slowly stalks closer to you.

Your eyes go wide as you realize that you’d definitely fucked up and you attempt to retreat back to the relative safety of the guest room, but you hear footsteps right behind you. He’s moving too fast. He covers twice the distance that you’re able to and throws himself across the doorway before lifting the device to his concealed mouth again.

“Fooled ya,” he says in the familiar, raspy distorted voice of Ghostface.

Tears well in your eyes as you turn tail and run straight for the backdoor. You aren’t thinking, just moving. Hurtling towards freedom, which you are hoping against hope you are able to find, but all hope is lost when you suddenly collide with another figure in the kitchen.

You slam into their firm chest and tilt your head back to look up at the imposing new intruder, who is also dressed as the masked fictional killer.

“Fuck,” you mutter, gaping up at the taller of the two in horror as you turn on your heel, only to find the other one right behind you.

Both of them begin closing in, sauntering towards you silently. All that you can hear is the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears as you back yourself up to the island. The shorter stranger looks between you and his companion in crime, who nods in response as your heart sinks into your stomach.

“Please. Please don’t hurt me,” you whimper, shrinking against the cool marble countertop.

The shorter of the two lifts the voice changer to his lips and uses his other hand to brandish the knife once more, using the blade to lift the hem of your shirt and press the flat of the cold steel blade to your stomach.

“We’re not gonna hurt you, gorgeous. We just wanna play,” he says as he leans in closer.

“I thought you liked playin’ like this, doll?” The taller one asks as he tilts his head to one side.

You whip your head towards him, because you could swear that’s your boyfriend’s voice, but you’ve already been tricked once tonight. He flashes his palms, revealing no voice changer in his hand. No knife either. He snaps his fingers together and a brilliant blue flame burns away the glove concealing his hand to reveal familiar scars and staples.

“T-Touya?” You ask shakily, blinking in surprise. “Then who the fuck is..?”

Your heart rate finally starts to slow as you trail off and shake your head, looking at the other Ghostface in confusion. You reach out to rip the mask off and are stunned to find Keigo’s wilder than usual blonde hair and disarming golden gaze beneath the disguise.

“Happy Halloween, doll,” Touya purrs as you stare at Keigo’s handsome smirk.

“I-I don’t understand,” you say quietly, not wanting to assume that what you sincerely hope might happen is actually about to happen.

“Sure ya do,” Touya continues, his large hands finding your hips to draw you closer and bring your back flush against his chest, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as Keigo sets the knife down on the counter without taking his hungry eyes off of you. “You remember us having this conversation, don’t you?”

Your brow furrows and you look away from the hero as you try to remember just what in the fuck Touya is on about when you recall him prompting you with an unusual question a few months ago.

You were sitting on the couch, curled up watching a movie. Sleep was beginning to tug at you, trying to beckon you to bed, but you were stubborn and insisted on staying up to see the end of the film, even though Touya was making it that much more difficult by rubbing his unnaturally warm hands along your back.

“Say, if we were ever to have a threesome with one of our friends, who would you want it to be with?” He’d asked you seemingly out of the blue, but unknown to you, he’d been ruminating on how to top his Halloween escapade for some time already.

“Hmm?” You ask as you tilt your head back to look at him and shrug. “I don’t know. You don’t exactly have a whole lot of friends. No offense.”

“None taken. I’d consider that a compliment,” he says, shrugging. “But seriously. Well, hypothetically, I guess. If ya had to pick one, who would it be? There’s plenty of hot people in the PLF.”

You hum curiously, taking a moment to think it over as you tuck your face back into his chest and nuzzle into him.

“Keigo. He’s hot and I’d trust him,” you reply bluntly, a yawn escaping you a moment later.

“Good choice. You’re right on both counts,” he murmurs, a plan already coming together in his mind. “That could be fun.”

“I didn’t think.. I mean–I–,” you balk, looking between them in disbelief.

“I wasn’t bein’ hypothetical, gorgeous,” Touya says as he spins you around to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently tilting your head back so that his blue eyes can bore into you while Keigo switches on the kitchen light. “So whaddya say?”

“We’re gonna need a clear answer before the real fun can begin,” Keigo says sensually as he steps close enough that you can feel his body heat behind you.

“Yes,” you eek out, nodding your head as you try to wrap your brain around this unexpected turn of events.

The bastard had gotten one over on you again after all, but it’s not like you can even stay mad about it, considering what’s in store for you.

“I hope you’re hydrated, doll,” Touya chuckles, fisting a hand into your hair to carefully tug your hair back and kiss you like his life depends on it.

He sighs through his nose, groaning against your lips as his hand drops to your ass. He gives it a firm squeeze as he shifts his hips against yours, letting you feel how hard he is already.

Keigo steps closer to press his toned chest against your back and tilts his head to start kissing along your neck as he grabs your waist and grinds against you from behind, revealing that he’s also sporting a raging hard on.

You moan, working your tongue and your mouth against Touya as your hands explore his chest, searching for an opening in the black robe he’s wearing.

“You wanna just cut to the chase already, doll?” The villain smirks, lighting his palm for just a second to reduce your scant clothing to ash. “I think we’ve been through enough foreplay and I’ve been waiting too damn long for this.”

He does the same to his clothing, pressing a hand to his chest and the other to Keigo’s. You feel another brief flash of tolerable heat before you’re hyper aware of the feeling of both of their bare bodies writhing against your own.

“Oh fuck,” you sigh, tilting your head to one side as Keigo begins nipping at your sensitive pulse point, laving his tongue over it to soothe the subtle ache.

You reach a hand back to work it into his hair and tug gently as you arch your back, grinding your ass against his stiff cock, which coaxes a gorgeous moan from him. You slip a hand between you and Touya as he captures your mouth again. Your fingers wrap around his length to guide the bead of precum along his shaft, drawing out a beautiful noise from him as well.

Both of them suddenly pull away and you’re afraid that you’ve done something wrong until Keigo steps in front of you to grab your hips and effortlessly lift you up onto the kitchen island.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about this for a long, long time,” he says, smirking as he leans in to kiss you and parts your legs.

Touya stands back, stroking himself as he watches Keigo crouch down between your thighs. The blonde keeps his eyes on yours as he trails kisses and love bites along your inner thighs, slowly and steadily working his way up to your glistening pussy.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs as he sets his sights between your legs as dives in, his tongue parting your folds before it spears inde of you.

He certainly knows what he’s doing and it immediately drives you crazy. You keep yourself supported and sitting upright with one hand, so that you can watch him feast on your pussy while you keep a hand in his hair. He alternates between bathing you with his tongue and sucking on your clit with just the right amount of pressure, drawing moans and whimpers from you with ease.

You look up to seek validation from Touya, almost feeling guilty for enjoying yourself so much, but he seems to be just as into it as you are. He nods, grinning wickedly as he comes closer.

“You enjoyin’ yourself, doll?” He asks as he stops stroking himself to instead reach beneath Hawks’ chin and slip two fingers inside of you.

“Y-yes!” You gasp, your eyes crossing as your head tips back. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.”

“I know, gorgeous,” he purrs and you can hear the smug smirk on his face. “Go ahead and cum all over my friend’s face. He’s dying to taste it.”

His words send you over the edge and you cry out, sending your release gushing into Keigo’s mouth as your hips gyrate on top of the counter. The hero wraps his arms around your thighs to keep you still as he continues ravaging you with his tongue. He noisily cleans up your arousal, sending you into overdrive as you whine and beg for him to show you mercy when it just gets to be too much.

He eventually lets you catch your breath, but when he stands up to wipe his chin, the look on Touya’s face tells you that you in for much worse if you thought that was too much.

“S’my turn to taste that sweet pussy, gorgeous. C’mere,” he says, nodding towards the hall as he scoops you up off the counter. At least he doesnt expect you to walk after that.

He carries you into the bedroom and switches the light on before he lays you down on the bed and lumbers over you.

“First things first, clean up the mess you made,” Touya practically coos as he offers his slick fingers to you.

You hold his gaze as you slowly take the digits into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them and moaning quietly when you taste yourself on his skin.

“Good girl,” Hawks praises you as he crawls onto the bed and Touya repositions, laying flat on his back.

“You know my favorite number, doll,” he says as he delivers a swift smack to your behind, just enough to make you jump a little. “Assume the position.”

You look between him and Keigo curiously and do as you're told, straddling Touya’s face to wrap your hand around his cock and begin stroking, but before you can take a seat, he tuts his tongue.

“I want your mouth on him, baby,” Touya says before he hooks his arms around you and forces you to sit.

His mouth starts working wonders between your legs and you think you might just cum in record time after what Hawks had done to you, but then you remember that your mouth is needed elsewhere than just filling up the sticky air with filthy noises.

You shift forward as Keigo comes closer, his swollen cock bobbing in front of your face. You lift your eyes to his and take great pleasure in watching the watch his head dips back and his Adam’s apple bobs when you take him into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he groans, struggling to keep still as he lets you slowly bob along his length until you’re comfortably taking him in and out of his mouth while working your hand along his shaft.

You keep your other hand wrapped around Touya’s cock, focusing on trying to please both of them while feeling like your brain is going to break thanks to what Touya’s doing beneath you. The moans that you drive from him send vibrations straight into your pussy that only drive you closer to the edge.

You hold on for as long as you can, but it soon becomes to much again and you pull your mouth and hands away from both of them to sit up and support yourself with your hands on Touya’s thighs, gripping them tight.

“C-can’t,” you practically sob, squeezing your eyes tight as you hang your head. “Holy shit.”

“Yes, you can,” Keigo coos as he reaches out to cup your breasts, massaging them with care before he starts tweaking your nipples, which sends you cascading into oblivion for the second time tonight.

You nearly collapse, slumping forward as you’re overcome with pleasure, but Keigo catches you, loosely holding you in his arms as he rubs his hand along your back, which only heightens the sensations you’re feeling.

You whimper in his ear and he presses a kiss to the side of your head as he and Touya gently ease you off of the latter, so that Touya can sit up.

“You’re doin’ so well, beautiful,” Hawks croons, peppering kisses along your jaw until he finds your lips.

“Mm,” is the only response you can muster at the moment as you slowly come down from your high.

“So well,” Touya praises, moving behind you to rest his hands on your hips as he kisses along your shoulder. “Such a good girl. Can you keep bein’ a good girl for us, gorgeous? If we give you what you really want? Hmm?”

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, nodding your head as your eyes fall closed. “I’ll keep bein’ good. I’ll be so good.”

“That’s our girl,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck before he places a chaste kiss to it.

Keigo moves aside and then Touya presses a hand to your back, keeping the other firmly planted on your hip as he forces you onto all fours. He groans as he grinds himself against you, his cock gliding through your folds, nearly penetrating where you need him the most.

“Please,” you whine softly, shaking your ass as you drop your hips back against him.

“Since you asked so nice,” he purrs, smirking as he slips inside of you, letting you feel him enter you inch by glorious inch, his piercings sliding against your walls and making your eyes roll back.

Keigo starts stroking himself as he watches Touya set a steady rhythm, fucking you just hard enough to make you gasp now and then as you fist your hands into the sheets and meet him thrust for thrust. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, mixing with the euphoric noises pouting from each and every one of you.

“Just gotta stretch you out a bit, gorgeous,” Touya pants, draping himself over you as he slows his pace. He reaches a hand around ti gently guide your face towards Keigo, who’s abs are drawn taut as he continues stroking himself, his eyes now fixed on your face. “You think you can take both of us? He’s not exactly small either, but I believe in you, doll.”

Your eyes widen, but you find yourself nodding. You aren’t sure if you can do it, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try.

“I want to,” you breathe out, nodding as you reach out towards Keigo to take over stroking his cock, tugging very gently to guide him closer as you smirk up at him. “We should get you nice and lubed up though, yeah?”

His eyebrows raise and he looks extremely pleased as he nods and cradles your head in the back of your hand as Touya straightens up.

“So fucking good,” Touya marvels through grit teeth as he picks up the pace again.

He lets you adjust to having Keigo in your mouth, but he starts pushing your further, driving into your hard enough to make you deep throat the hero, which makes both of them groan sinfully as they watch you swallow their cocks at either end.

“Fuck,” Keigo sighs as he suddenly backs away. “Anymore of that and I’m gonna be done way too soon.”

“Let’s see if you’re ready then, doll,” Touya says, smirking as he pulls out and kneads the fat of your ass before giving it a light smack. “Lay down, Kei. You should her pussy for yourself first.”

Hawks lays on his back and Touya cups your cheek to guide your face towards his one, giving you a passionate kiss before he lets you go and nods towards the blonde.

“Give him the ride of his life,” he says as he wraps his hand around his own cock.

You climb on top of Keigo, leaning in to give him a kiss and slip your tongue into his mouth, teasingly tracing it around the entrance of his mouth as you wrap your hand around his length. You suddenly sink down and he lets out a choked groan as he seizes your hips.

You rest your hands on his chest, smirking with satisfaction as you start riding him, moving your hips slowly at first as your walls clench around him, hugging his cock tight.

“You feel so good, Kei,” you say breathily.

His eyes widen and for a moment, he feels like he might just cum and pass out right there. He lets you set the pace, watching you intently as you bounce up and down on his length. His hands glide over your body, exploring every inch of you that he can reach before they settle on your breasts. He massages them as gently as he had earlier before tweaking your nipples.

He seems to get a better idea as he sits up and wraps his arms around you, grabbing your ass to start guiding your hips more forcefully while he takes your nipple into his mouth to suck. He expertly moves his tongue across the sensitive bud, flicking and swirling it around as he applies more pressure to your hips and encourages you to quicken your pace.

“Just like that, doll,” Touya pants, struggling to stave of his own end as he senses yours coming.

“Keigo,” you whimper, grasping onto his shoulders as you squeeze your eyes shut and throw your head back, your hips bucking as you come undone again.

“Oh fuck,” he groans loudly, panting for breath as he continues fucking you through your end while fighting off his own.

Touya pulls his hand away from his cock to take a few deep breaths, watching you contort with pleasure until you’re through the worst of it. He moves behind you and kisses along your shoulder again, sending delicious shivers down your spine.

“You sure you wanna do this, doll?” He asks quietly, his tone sincere.

“Yes. Yes, please,” you whisper, nodding weakly nodding your head.

“You don’t have to do any of the work this time, baby,” Keigo says as he runs his hands along yours arms and lays flat on his back. “Just let us make you feel good.”

You nod again and Touya rests a hand on your back to gently guide your forward so that you’re laying on top of Keigo before he situates himself behind you.

“I’ll go slow,” he assures you as he first works one finger inside of you. Then another.

You and Keigo both moan quietly, your shallow breaths mingling with one another’s as he drags his fingertips along your back. Touya starts slowly thrusting his fingers and Keigo slowly shifts his hips, working you open further as you rest your head on the blonde’s chest and submit to it. Once he’s confident that you’re able to take both of them, Touya slowly guides the head of his cock inside of you.

“Shit,” he groans, continuing to gently bully himself inside. “It’s so fucking tight. So fucking good. You feel that, Kei?”

“Fuck yeah I do,” Hawks sighs, holding perfectly still as his face twists with pleasure. “It’s so fucking good.”

You press your nails into Keigo’s biceps as you feel the two of them stretching you open and filling you up in a way that you never thought possible. They’re right. It is so. Fucking. Good.

“Fuck me,” you beg quietly once Touya’s seated inside of you. “Please fuck me. Wanna feel both of you.”

“You’re gonna, baby,” Touya croons as he slowly draws his hips back and pushes inside of you again.

The sensation is glorious. It’s mind numbing. It’s like the best drug you’ve ever felt and you know that you need more of it.

He holds onto your hips and Keigo seizes your waist as they both begin to move in tandem, slowly at first, but working their way to a pace that has you at a loss for words. You couldn’t find any if you tried. None of you can apparently.

The only noises to be heard are your bodies all grinding against each other. The lewd squelching of fluids between your forms as you trade sinful noises and panting breaths back and forth. Eventually, you do find one phrase, but just one.

“Cum inside me, please. Please,” you whine, your voice pitching higher as you feel another orgasm building, this one threatening to tear you apart in the best way. “Cum i-inside.”

“We’re gonna breed you so fuckin’ good, doll,” Touya promises without missing a beat. “I promise.”

They seem to have mastered their movements. Together, the two of them drive you steadily towards your end whilst chasing their own. You snap first, of course, howling with pleasure as your writhe on top of them, your walls contracting impossibly tight around both of their cocks.

Keigo cradles your head and kisses the top of it, whispering praises and Touya hunches forward to do the same, speaking them right into your ear as both of them keep driving themselves inside of you with unparalleled need.

Keigo finishes next, his eyes snapping shut as he lets out a long, loud moan, his rhythm stuttering just as Touya finds his end. His head snaps up as he leans back and grips your hips with bruising force, delivering a few more good thrusts while letting out a primal groan before his thrusts become sloppy and begin to taper off as he lays himself across your back again.

The three of you are left a sweaty, blissful mess on the bed. You’re so wonderfully full. So much so that you’re leaking all over both of them, but neither of them seem to care and neither do you. It’s as if the world has stopped for a minute and you’re all floating outside of time and space, suspended in this moment.

“So good for us,” Touya finally murmurs after who knows how long. He gently grabs your chin to guide your face towards his once more, a lazy smile on his lips as he captures yours in a decidedly sweet kiss. “Happy Halloween, doll.”

thank you for reading! I hope you have/had a safe & happy halloween!

#dabi x reader #hawks x reader #dabi smut #hawks smut #touya todoroki x reader #keigo takami x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #touya x reader #keigo x reader #touya smut #keigo smut #mha smut

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 10 months

Text

Comet Donati [Chapter 4: Temporary Fix]

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+), drugs, alcohol, smoking, crepes, mental health struggles, the Cookie Monster pajama pants are removed...😏

Selected Chapter Quote: “I will push you off the Eiffel Tower.”

Word count: 6.7k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @doingfondue @catalina-howard @randomdragonfires @myspotofcraziness @arcielee @fan-goddess @talesofoldandnew @marvelescvpe @tinykryptonitewerewolf @mariahossain @chainsawsangel @darkenchantress @not-a-glad-gladiator @gemini-mama @trifoliumviridi @herfantasyworldd @babyblue711 @namelesslosers @thelittleswanao3 @daenysx @moonlightfoxx @libroparaiso @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @mizfortuna @florent1s @heimtathurs @bhanclegane @poohxlove @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @heavenly1927 @mariahossain @echos-muses @padfooteyes @minttea07 @queenofshinigamis @juliavilu1 @amiraisgoingthruit

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“Our father never cared about us,” Aegon says at the rooftop bar in Kansas City, a full year before you meet Aemond, a full year before you know him as anything other than a face to be printed on t-shirts and keychains like profiles stamped into coins at a mint, things to be acquired, traded, hoarded, lost. Aegon is swirling the ice cubes in his Salty Dog with a green plastic stirrer shaped like a pirate’s sword. He’s glowing from his sunburn, but he glows from within too; you have the sudden and distinct impression that he’s made of weightless luminance, slice a vein and he’d bleed daylight. A year later, you’ll find yourself thinking that if you cut Aemond, storms and rogue waves would come pouring out.

“I’m so sorry,” you offer, knowing it will not help. But it can’t hurt either, unlike those platitudes that well-meaning but ignorant people like to besiege him with: Of course your parents love you. I’m sure they did their best. You’ll understand how hard it is when you’re a dad someday.

“I figured it out pretty early on. How much he preferred Rhaenyra. How I was the antithesis of everything he could have wanted in a son.” Aegon shrugs; it can’t be changed, it’s like trying to stop the rain. He sips his Salty Dog. Ice clinks; he licks his lips. “It took Aemond a little longer. Helaena was always with Grandpa and Daeron was mother’s favorite, but I remember Aemond trailing after our father like a duckling, asking him about history and books and whatever else, just desperate with this need to be noticed, to be loved. If my father was leafing through a biography at the kitchen table, Aemond would spend hours on Google trying to come up with a fact he hadn’t read yet. If my father mentioned a movie, Aemond would watch it over and over again until he had the lines memorized. I remember one Christmas, Aemond wanted the Helm’s Deep Lego set because my father liked the Lord of the Rings. Then he kept asking Dad to help him put it together. ‘We’ll do it this weekend.’ ‘We’ll do it after I get off this conference call.’ ‘We’ll do it tomorrow.’ ‘We’ll do it for your birthday.’ Never happened. Well summer rolled around and I guess Aemond figured he might as well just do it himself. So he stayed up all night putting that fucking Lego castle together and left it on the kitchen table where my father couldn’t miss it. So the old man comes downstairs the next morning for breakfast and we’re all sitting there with our waffles and orange juice, and Aemond is trying not to act too proud but he is, he’s literally shaking with impatience for Dad’s praise, even a crumb, even just a few words, the maple syrup bottle was trembling in his hands. And my father strolls into the kitchen, glances at this meticulously constructed replica of Helm’s Deep—I mean it’s like a sculpture in a museum, it’s goddamn perfect—and he gives this little snort of a laugh. He says: ‘Wow, look at that.’ And then he sits down at the table, opens his biography of King George V, and never mentions it again.”

This moment is real but it isn’t. Sitting outside in the warm, windswept Missouri midnight with a popstar you’ll never see again (an incorrect assumption) and stories you have no right to hear (so you believe).

Aegon takes another sip of his Salty Dog. “Not me,” he says with a puckish, sad half-smile. “I was never going to beg for someone to want me. I go wherever, I’m with whoever. No strings. No anchors. Nothing stays the same except the band, and that’s what bought me my freedom to begin with, so I don’t mind it so much. Me father is disgusted by me. But this is who I am. And I’d rather force him to watch me torch his legacy than break my back trying to earn love that was given away long before I was born.”

“Do you think that’s a part of why you have no interest in settling down?” you say. “I mean, commitment is a two-way street. And if you commit to someone, you have to trust that they’ll commit to you back. That they love you now, sure, but also that they’ll keep loving you. Maybe that’s something that’s difficult for you to accept. That someone could love you for more than an hour, a night, a day.”

He taps his Salty Dog against the tabletop, considering you, perhaps even marveling: wind in his blond hair, blood in his cheeks. At last he asks, teasing: “What are you, some kind of therapist?”

“Well, actually…in a year from now…” You feel uneasy assigning such significance to yourself—it feels inevitably pretentious, over-confident, unearned—but you can’t help returning his smile. “I sort of will be.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re laying in your bed with the French doors that lead out onto the balcony wide open. The breeze—sunny and warm and smelling of the bakery next to the hotel, croissants and baguettes and half a million different sorts of pastries—breathes in through the semi-transparent linen curtains, a great inhale, a sighing exhale. You can hear footsteps and laughing on the sidewalk outside. The tourists are a cross-section of humanity, with languages from across the globe: a sprinkling of Portuguese here, Arabic there, Mandarin and Hindi and Russian. When the wind flutters the curtains aside, you can see the Eiffel Tower across the Seine. You should be out exploring Paris, but you’re not. You can’t seem to get out of bed. It’s been almost one week since the fight in Reykjavik. You don’t speak to Aemond and he doesn’t speak to you, and everyone knows this but they don’t know why. Not the whole story, anyway. They caught snippets through the sliding glass door, but they didn’t hear what Aemond said to you.

You’re just a groupie. You’re just a slut.

And now Aegon’s words come back to you too: Whoever you are when you’re in high school…that’s sort of who you are forever, you know?

You pinch your eyes shut and roll onto your side away from the open balcony doors. Earlier you had gotten up, showered, deliberated leaving your room…and then immediately put back on your pajamas and crawled into bed. You have no idea where Aemond is now. He mopes around, he avoids you, he disappears on his 1960 Gold Star for hours, he takes notes in white ink, he takes calls on his iPhone.

There is the sound of a key—not a card, but a real, brass key, old and worthy of preservation just like the hotel—jangling in the lock of your door. Aegon steps inside. He’s FaceTiming someone in extremely poor Spanish.

“Adiós mi amor! Sí, te extraño. Claro que sí. Te extraño mucho. Vale, adiós. Hablamos pronto.” He hangs up and slips his iPhone into the pocket of his neon yellow cargo shorts. He’s wearing matching Crocs and a black Comet Donati band tank top. He pushes his aviator sunglasses up into his hair. “Hey.”

“Hey. Who were you talking to?”

“Camila Cabello. But she can wait.” He kicks off his Crocs and walks over to the bed, looking down at you quizzically. He tosses the brass key back and forth between his hands; Criston keeps the second copy of each one, so Aegon must have borrowed it from him. More likely, he thieved it. “You okay, Stargirl? You look stressed.”

“I am stressed.”

He grins, an eyebrow raised, sunburn on his shoulders. “Anything I can do to help with that?”

And you remember what he said to you back in Kansas City last June, a lifetime ago: I don’t think my worth is determined by who or how I fuck. I don’t think yours is either.

Aegon would never call you a slut. And even if he said it, he wouldn’t mean it in the way Aemond did. It wouldn’t be an insult, a belittlement, a curse. You watch him as he stands in the golden afternoon light, caring for you, wanting you in a way that is pure but not innocent. Do you want him too? Sure; Aegon’s beautiful, and you already know you have chemistry, and more than either of those things he is safe. But he’s not the one who keeps you up at night. He’s not the reason you thought, fleetingly and poisonously as you swallowed your birth control pill this morning: What a goddamn waste.

“Actually,” you say, peering up at him, your lips curling into a drowsy smile. “There might be.”

“Yeah?” He’s a little surprised but very enthused.

“Yeah.”

He whips his sunglasses out of his hair and sets them on the nightstand next to your souvenirs: the Colosseum pencil sharpener, the alabaster Apollo, the fighting bull refrigerator magnet, Portuguese soap and Austrian chocolate, the moose snow globe, the silica mud mask, the stuffed comet, the Eiffel Tower keychain you bought yesterday here in Paris, and if that’s cliché then so be it. The mattress shifts when Aegon climbs over to you, pushing up your oversized Jonas Brothers t-shirt. He touches his lips to the softness of your belly, bites lightly and playfully, gazing up at you through his shaggy hair as he works his way down to the waistline of your Cookie Monster pajama pants. And suddenly, you’re back in Kansas City a year ago, feeling the comforting, harmless heat of him in the downstairs bathroom of a rooftop bar, drenched in glowing florescence like moonlight, your back to a red wall and his mouth all over you, first above and then below, coaxing the darkness out of your veins like a shot of penicillin cures sepsis. He’s antivenom, he’s white magic, he’s a spell.

“You sure?” Aegon asks now, pausing as his fingers unravel the blue drawstring on your pajama pants like the bow of a Christmas present.

You reach down to knot a hand in his hair, wanting to be closer to him, and he smiles, knowing what you’re going to say before you say it. “I am so fucking sure.”

A resistless tug and your pajama pants have vanished. Aegon positions himself between your thighs and buries his face in the thin strip of fabric that still separates you, black lace you didn’t buy while thinking of him. Aegon inhales deep and slow. “Oh God,” he moans. “You smell just as incredible as I remember.”

His thumbs slip beneath the lace and whisk it away: the coolness of sudden air, the warmth of his tongue. You gasp, drowning in the best kind of sea, waves that cover splintering piers and razor-sharp barnacles, currents that erase memory. It’s exactly like it was before. It will always be this way with him, you know, you feel in your blood that carries all the same elements as his: iron, carbon, oxygen, nitrogen that builds DNA, hydrogen that ignites and burns. And just like that red-walled night in Kansas City, you are amazed by how quickly the ecstasy blooms in you, wispy and yet unbearably powerful, clearing thoughts and uncoiling muscles.

“Good girl,” Aegon murmurs with your wetness dripping from his lips, watching your face as he slides two fingers into you; his own eyes—murky blue puddles that hold few secrets—are entranced, rapturous. “Now come in my mouth, baby. I want to taste all of you again. I want to drown in it. Come in my mouth, can you do that for me?”

You can, and almost immediately: he plunges his fingers into you as he strokes you with his tongue and the rush is bliss yet superficial somehow, sunbeams on wave crests, without the kind of miles-deep tragedy, pining, promises that poets like to write about. Aegon notices the towel you’d draped over the desk chair after your shower and reaches for it to wipe his face with, but you stop him, drawing him to you by his tank top; and you drag your tongue up his chin and over his lips, tasting yourself on him, licking him clean. Then you take his fingers into your mouth and suck them until he looks like he’s going to pass out, like he’s going to forget how to breathe.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, and he kisses you just like he did a year ago, with an intense sort of need and his hand against your face, his flesh and blood hot and pressed to yours, palm lines on your cheekbone. He wants you in a way that is unburdened by pasts or futures; and who is anyone to condemn that? Perhaps that is the most painless form love can take.

And as the high dissipates, fog burned away at noon only to creep back in the next morning, Aemond returns to you: his words, his wrath, his flawed yet flawless face. You feel unexpectedly, overwhelmingly low. But this is not the time or place for tears; Aegon is still here.

Now I have to get him off too. Now I have to repay him. That’s fair, right?

“Just do it.” You fling one arm across your face as you look towards the balcony, breathing in Paris and daylight, spreading your thighs wider for him, anticipating the faint pressure-pain that will blossom into pleasure as his body melds with yours. “It’s fine. Go ahead. Just fuck me.”

But when your eyes drift back to him, Aegon still has his clothes on. He sits upright and traces the line of your jaw with his fingertips, studying you with uncommon quietness. “No,” he says softly. “No, I don’t think so. You look sad.”

You nod, unable to trust yourself to speak without your voice breaking.

Aegon sighs and flops down beside you on the bed, pulling you against him, whispering as his fingers twist in your hair: “Come here. Shh, shh. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t help.”

“You helped, Aegon.” Just not quite enough.

He kisses your forehead, and then your cheek, and then he looks at you expectantly. “Are you finally going to tell me what he said? That night in Reykjavik? I heard you screaming something about Missouri, but I don’t think that’s what fucked you up so bad.”

You hesitate as you lie together in the sunlit stillness threaded with distant footsteps and passing cars, Aegon twirling strands of your hair, fondness and familiarity and longing that he is politely trying to ignore. Beneath his neon yellow shorts, he is rock hard.

“Now I’m really curious,” Aegon says, smiling has he kisses your forehead again, entangled with you like tendrils of grapevines, morning glory, ivy. “Aemond’s fucked up too. He’s been lying on his bedroom floor and listening to The Script. He hasn’t done that since he and Shelby split.”

Shelby, you think desolately, flinching. “You warned me about Aemond. You told me he was full of demons.”

“Yup. I’m glad I can’t read minds. It’s gotta be like Poltergeist in there.”

But everyone has a few skeletons in their closet, don’t they? Bones that won’t stop rattling. Teeth that gnash and crave. “He called me a slut.”

Aegon pulls back, brow furrowed. He looks at you, trying to decipher which nerve Aemond hit. It is not a word that Aegon considers to be derogatory.

“But it wasn’t really what he said, it was how he said it, like…like…like because of what I’d done with you a year ago, I didn’t matter anymore. Nothing about me mattered. That he could never respect someone like me. That I had deceived him into thinking I was someone worth wanting.”

Abruptly, Aegon leaves the bed. He grabs his sunglasses off the nightstand and pads across the hardwood floor in his bare feet, steps into his Crocs, slides his sunglasses over his eyes, fluffs his blond hair that hangs in chaotic waves.

“Aegon…?”

“Come with me,” he says, nodding towards the door. He pulls a piece of cotton candy flavored Bubble Yum out of his cargo shorts and tosses it into his mouth. “Right now. Put some clothes on and let’s go.”

“Go where?”

Aegon does not elaborate. He only repeats while chomping noisily on his gum: “Let’s go.”

You rush to the bathroom and are ready in five minutes: flip flops, tousled hair, a flowing turquoise sundress you bought yesterday while shopping at Hermès with Baela and Rhaena. “Okay, seriously, where are we going?”

“Out,” Aegon says simply. You follow him through the doorway and down the corridor; like a bloodhound after evidence, Aegon tracks laughter that drifts through the hallway to Daeron’s room. The youngest Targaryen brother is playing Uno with Jace and Baela; Daeron has just made Jace draw four.

Aegon smacks Daeron’s shoulder and demands: “Where is he?”

Daeron is startled. “Huh? What? Who?”

“Aemond. Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

Aegon smacks Daeron again. “Where is he?!”

“I don’t know!” Daeron wails.

Mercifully, Baela intervenes. “Luke and Rhaena said they were going to the Eiffel Tower. Maybe Aemond went too…?”

“Cool,” Aegon replies. And when he sails out of the room, it’s not just you that goes with him; Baela, Jace, and Daeron file after Aegon as well, chattering conspiratorially. Aegon doesn’t wait for the elevator. He races down the grand staircase to the lobby: white marble floors and Oriental rugs, velvet armchairs and chandeliers, butlers scuttling and women hauling poodles around on taut leashes. Aegon strides past all of it without any interest. You follow him into the street outside and then across it, dodging taxis and limousines. Aegon believes crosswalks are optional. Next he locates the closest bridge over the Siene and traverses it.

“Are they gonna fight?” Jace asks Daeron excitedly. “You think they’re really gonna fight?!”

You plead as you hurry across the bridge, riverboats and swans gliding by below: “Aegon, I don’t want you to say anything to him.”

“I’m not going to say anything.”

“I don’t want you to shout anything either.”

Aegon peeks back at you, smirking wickedly. You know him too well. His pace picks up as he exits the bridge; next comes the vast stretch of gardens that surround the Eiffel Tower, strewn with picnicking tourists, fountains, ferns, lilies, roses, shrubs and trees and waddling ducks.

Jace gasps, euphoric: “Oh my God, they’re gonna fight!”

“Do you really see that ending well?!” Baela hisses back. “Aegon has to be on stage tonight! That’s not going to happen if Aemond snaps him in half like a KitKat!”

“Aegon, you can’t fight him,” you say, petrified. Aemond would win. Easily. Everyone knows that.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Aegon, please!”

“What the hell happened?!” Baela puffs as she jogs up beside you, clutching your arm, bewildered and alarmed. You shake your head. Too long a story, not one you wish to share, not one you entirely feel you have a right to disclose. You’ve only told Aegon, and how is that going to turn out? You don’t want people to hate Aemond. You don’t want to alienate him from the band any further. That might seem contradictory given his recent disregard for your own wellbeing, but it’s—however regrettably—true.

“This is going to be so fucking epic,” Jace says. “Wait, do I have time to get popcorn? I think I should grab some popcorn. Wait, wait, there’s a crepe stand right over there, just give me five minutes. Aegon? Aegon?! Man, please, just postpone the beatdown for five minutes!”

“I hope you can sing Aegon’s parts too,” Daeron tells Jace. “I don’t have them memorized.”

“Cregan can do it.”

“Cregan is going to flay you alive if he sees you encouraging this.”

“He can’t sing all our parts,” Jace replies sensibly.

Aegon battles his way to the front of the long line of people waiting to purchase tickets to go up into the Eiffel Tower. They grimace and jeer at him, hurling swears in a myriad of languages. When he reaches the ticket counter, an aghast employee begins to implore Aegon—“S'il vous plait, Monsieur, vous devez attendre votre tour!”—until she gets a better look at him. Her mouth pops open; her sky blue eyes go impossibly wide. “Oh mon Dieu…”

“You know who I am, right?” Aegon says impatiently. “Yeah, you recognize me. Okay. I need to get up there right now. Me and my friends. What can I do to make that happen? I have lots of credit cards. I can also sign your arm or tits or whatever. What do you want?”

The employee settles for a selfie with Aegon, Jace, and Daeron. Daeron smiles dazzlingly and poses with two thumbs up. Jace gives Aegon bunny ears. Then the five of you receive your tickets. This time, Aegon is willing to wait for the elevator; it’s over 600 steps to the second floor alone, and you’re all already winded from the walk here. Aegon gets off at the first level, does a lap around the tower—tall glass barriers and metal cages around the balcony, a café and a gift shop—and then reboards the elevator to ascend to the next floor. The second level is more open. There is a railing around the edge of the walkway of course, but it only comes up to your waist. Next to one of the tower viewers is who Aegon is searching for: Luke, Rhaena, Cregan, Criston…and Aemond. He’s wearing dark jeans, a black Calvin Klein t-shirt, vintage Adidas sneakers like the ones Freddie Mercury had at Live Aid, sunglasses to shield his damaged eye from photographers, and a fanny pack. He’s biting into a Golden Delicious, round and shiny; juice glistens on his lips. None of them have spotted you yet.

You hear Luke ask Aemond: “Bruh, this is really embarrassing. You’re worth like $100 million. Why are you eating apples and pecans out of a fanny pack?”

“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find vegan food in Paris?”

Criston spies Aegon just as he’s closing in. He reads the fury on his face, his outstretched hand. “Don’t—!”

Aegon thrusts his palms against Aemond’s chest, hard, hard enough to force him back a couple of steps towards the railing. “Apologize,” he orders.

Aemond looks at you—for a moment, only a moment—and then back at Aegon. “For what?”

“You know what you did. Apologize.”

Everyone has gathered around. Criston’s dark eyes dart between Aemond and Aegon. He has a grip on Aegon’s shoulder, but he hasn’t dragged him away yet. He doesn’t know what this is about, and though he would never admit it…he’s intrigued. Cregan hovers close by; he lights a cigarette, taking advantage of Criston’s momentary preoccupation. Baela and Rhaena are gossiping in hushed voices. From behind his black sunglasses, Aemond stares at his brother, the wheels in his mind spinning. He doesn’t hit him, though he easily could. He doesn’t seem to have the spirit for it.

“Whoo!” Jace shouts, pumping his fist in the air. “Fight, fight, fight!”

Daeron mutters to Luke: “Are we taking bets?”

“Um, no?!”

“Right now,” Aegon tells Aemond, and shoves him again. “I mean it. I will push you off the Eiffel Tower.”

“Whoa, illegal!” Jace hoots. Cregan hooks a hand into the collar of Jace’s polo and yanks him back. “Hey, referee abuse over here—!”

“I will break your fucking arm,” Cregan growls.

“Okay,” Jace says. “Got it. No problem. I’m done now.”

“Apologize,” Aegon commands again, as if you’re the only people here: him, you, Aemond.

You are mortified. “Aegon, please don’t—”

“I’m sorry,” Aemond says. He’s looking at you again, and this time he doesn’t turn away. You wish you could see his eyes: windows to the soul, however clouded they might be. It’s the first time he’s spoken to you since Reykjavik. The gravity of it—his voice, his steady gaze, the gut-punch realization of how much you still want him—knocks all the words out of your skull. You sweep them up like a child collecting spilled coins in cupped hands.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.” Aemond’s tone is benign, calm, like he’s already rehearsed this and has just been waiting for the opportune moment. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was speaking out of anger. It was impulsive of me, it was indecorous.”

What the fuck? Indecorous…? Who uses words like that in casual conversation? Incurably pretentious Aemond Targaryen, that’s who. “Thanks, I guess. You must spend a lot of time with your thesaurus.”

“Well, I write lyrics, so.”

“Yeah.” You wait for Aemond to add the most important part: that he was wrong about what he said, that it wasn’t true. But he doesn’t go there. He only apologizes for speaking it into existence, for vibrating the air with its treacherous molecules. “Okay,” you tell Aegon. “I think you got what you wanted. Can we go now?”

“Sure.” Aegon slaps Aemond across the back and gives him one final glare, swift but cutting.

“What’s a thesaurus?” Daeron whispers to Luke, who shrugs.

“Some kind of dinosaur…?”

“That’s alright, boys!” Jace says, clapping his hands. “Walk it off! Take a breather! Plenty of time for Round 2 later!” Cregan bends one arm behind his back. “Ow—!”

“No smoking,” Criston snaps, ripping the cigarette out of Cregan’s mouth and stomping it into ash.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, after soundcheck, eating dinner in the gardens under the lengthening shadow of the Eiffel Tower, dark stripes that swallow up daylight like bathwater sucked down a drain. Everyone has a crepe that’s rolled up in wax paper, as Europeans serve it…everyone except Aemond, of course. He’s sitting by himself under a 200-year-old sycamore tree and gnawing morosely on a plain baguette that’s as long as his own forearm. His iPhone rings; he checks who it is and then silences the call. Luke goes over to sit with him, dripping whipped cream from his banana and Nutella crepe all over his white shorts speckled with sailboats. You keep trying not to look at Aemond. Each time you see him is like poking a bruise; it’s nothing but pain, but you can’t seem to stop.

“Oh wow!” Baela cries, beaming as she scrolls through her phone. “The Paris Opera Ballet is performing Romeo and Juliette this season!”

“Neat!” Rhaena says. “Like right now?”

“Yeah. We could catch a show before we leave next week.” She turns to Jace. “Baby?” And when he ignores her, she rubs his shoulder, her voice honeyed. “Jace?”

He groans. “Really? Ballet?”

Baela frowns. “I think it would be fun.”

“I think you can go without me.” Jace points to Aemond, grinning. “Take him, he likes archaic things. Hell, he is one now.” New lines appear in Aemond’s brow, but he gives no other indication that he’s heard this.

“You can’t spare one afternoon for me?” Baela says; and her words have turned from honey to battery acid. “Are you fucking serious? Do you know what I’ve given up for you?”

Jace sighs heavily. “I knew you were going to make this into a thing.”

“Me?! You’re the person who’s being unfair here, I’m asking for one afternoon—!”

“There’s literally no reason why you can’t go with someone who won’t feel like they’re being tortured for three hours.”

“Torture? That’s what my life’s work is to you? Torture?!”

“Well now I definitely don’t want to go anywhere with you if you’re going to act like this—”

“Act like what, like I want my boyfriend to occasionally show even a vague interest in something I care about—?!”

As they go back and forth, everyone else stares down at their dinner, actively dissociating.

Baela asks you: “You want to weigh in on this?” It’s not really a question.

You take a cagy bite of your baked apple crepe. “Um, honestly, I don’t really have much experience with couples counseling.”

“Great. Now’s your chance to acquire some.”

“Uh…” You eat some more of your crepe, slurp your citron pressé, a sort of do-it-yourself lemonade. Baela waits. Jace smirks at you, attentive but not for the right reasons. “Well. I guess what I can say is that it’s important for both people to have their interests valued and their needs met. So for every activity that Jace chooses, there should be roughly the same amount of time spent on something that Baela wants to do.”

“Yeah but I have a lot less free time,” Jace says. “Since…you know…I happen to be in a world-famous boy band in the midst of their third global tour.”

Baela pitches back: “Exactly, which has completely taken over my life, so I think if I could get just one fucking afternoon where you show me some minuscule amount of appreciation then that might be kind of nice, you know?”

“Jace,” you say gently. You can see on the periphery of your vision that Aemond is watching you, once again hidden behind sunglasses that you know he wishes he didn’t feel the need to wear. “It sounds like this is really important to Baela.”

He sighs again. “Baela, Baela, ballerina,” Jace muses, somewhat affectionately but without respect. “Okay. We’ll see. We might have time tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Baela agrees; but already she looks defeated. And she is not a woman who defeat comes naturally to. She’s been worn down by weeks, months, years of the same rote disappointment. She glances at a street vendor who’s selling falafel. “Hey,” she says to Rhaena. “Go get us some wraps.”

“Me?” Rhaena peers nervously at the falafel cart. “What if he only speaks French? Or some other language I don’t know?”

“Then point to the sign, you’ll figure it out,” Baela replies testily.

“I’ll go too, Rhaena,” you offer. “And you can order but I’ll stand there with you and help if any charades need to be done. Will that make it easier?”

“Sure,” Rhaena says. “Okay. Deal.”

And when you return ten minutes later, along with all the other food you have one order of plain falafel: no yogurt sauce, no wrap. You bring it to Aemond, who is stunned. “What’s this?”

“It’s vegan. Falafel is vegan. So here, your dinner just got a little more exciting.”

“Well…thanks.” He takes it with tentative hands.

“That’s so thoughtful of you!” Luke says cheerfully. “Do they have falafel in Kansas?”

“Missouri,” you correct. “And not really. But I ate a lot of it when I was at UChicago.”

This captures Aemond’s interest. “You went to UChicago?”

“Yes, Aemond. Shockingly, liking sex does not make women stupid.”

His iPhone rings: Mr. Brightside. Less than ideal timing. He rejects the call.

“Who was that?” Criston yells over.

“No one,” Aemond responds irritably.

“Your mom?”

“No, Criston.”

“How’s she doing?”

“She wasn’t the one calling, Criston!”

“Okay but I’m just asking, how is she doing like in general…?”

Back at the hotel, Comet Donati is getting ready for their first show in Paris: drinks in glasses, white lines on tables, hair and makeup, cigarettes and pills. You soak in your massive jacuzzi tub and stare up at the ceiling wondering: What am I doing here? What the hell am I still doing here?

But the thought of actually boarding a plane back to Kansas City is terrifying. Never seeing Aegon again? Never seeing Aemond again? Never seeing any of them except on YouTube or Spotify? You don’t want to leave their orbit. You don’t want to zoom off to the other end of the solar system just yet.

You wrap a towel around yourself and mosey out into the bedroom to get dressed. He’s there inspecting the souvenirs on your nightstand, chuckling and pushing them around with his knuckles, wearing a sequined blazer and skin full of ink: not Aegon, not Aemond, not Cregan, but Jace. You squeal, startled, and clutch your towel tighter around yourself. Unfortunately, it’s a very small towel. A very very small towel.

“These are neat,” Jace says. “So I collect tattoos and you collect souvenirs. We have so much in common.”

“We have exceptionally little in common. What do you want?”

He smiles, but never quite kindly. “What do you want?”

“I want you to take Baela to the ballet,” you say. “And I want you to get out of my room now.”

He turns all the way around to face you. He flings your moose snow globe from Stockholm into the air and then catches it, again, again. “Do you really?”

“Yes, Jace.”

And for a minute, or two, or what feels like forever, he doesn’t move. He just stands there staring at you, not moving any closer but not leaving either. Not listening to you. Not hearing you because he doesn’t want to. And you think, your heart hammering in your chest: At what point should I scream for Aegon or Criston? Will they hear me? Will they help me?

“Alright,” Jace says at last. He sets your moose snow globe back down on the nightstand, roughly, with a loud clunk. Then he walks across your room; but before he disappears through the doorway, he throws you a brass room key. Instinctively, you move to catch it, almost dropping your towel in the process. You snatch it back into place just in time. Jace is amused. Perhaps he planned it that way. “Aegon left that lying around,” Jace says, meaning the key. “Maybe you should be more discriminating when choosing who you give it to.”

“I didn’t give it to him. He took it from Criston.”

“Sure he did.” And finally, Jace leaves, as unwelcome as a funnel cloud or a hailstorm.

Aemond spends the concert in the shadows: pacing, taking his notes, ruminating over his many grudges. You spend it in the front row with Baela and Rhaena, wearing the neon yellow gown you found in Reykjavik. You try not to scan the arena for glimpses of Aemond. You fail miserably. Comet opens their concert with an interesting choice, an upbeat cover of Third Eye Blind’s How’s It Going To Be. When you ask Rhaena about it, she says it was Luke’s idea, which in your experience means it was almost certainly Aemond’s, or at least one that he enthusiastically endorsed. Daeron begins, peppy and animated, strutting across the stage:

“I’m only pretty sure that I can’t take anymore

Before you take a swing

I wonder, what are we fighting for?”

Aegon is next, characteristically a little sloppy, a little shaky, yet getting colossal cheers:

“When I say out loud

I want to get out of this

I wonder is there anything

I’m going to miss?”

Cregan’s voice is deep, sensuous, inviting yet with an edge like a blade:

“I wonder how it’s going to be

When you don’t know me?

How’s it going to be

When you’re sure I’m not there?”

Jace is technically the best singer, rich and smooth and nearly always pitch-perfect:

“How’s it going to be

When there’s no one there to talk to?

Between you and me

‘Cause I don’t care…”

And Luke leads the harmony as guitar notes pluck out of the monstrous speakers:

“How’s it going to be?

How’s it going to be?”

Aside from the cover, the setlist is the same as it’s always been since you joined the tour in Rome…but you’re experiencing it in a new way. You are needled by jealously every time you wonder what woman, moment, day, night inspired one of Aemond’s songs; you are nauseous with envy for everyone who’s ever been able to touch him. When they perform A Girl Named After A Car—which had previously always struck you as fun, light, unserious, perhaps satirical—you are consumed by a specific conspiracy theory. After fighting it for half of the song, you Google two words with your iPhone: Shelby car. Sure enough, there’s a vintage Mustang model called a Shelby. It’s gorgeous. It’s perfect for Aemond.

“Great,” you mutter to yourself.

“You okay?” Rhaena asks.

“Yeah,” you reply, slamming your phone back into your purse. “I’m awesome. I’ve literally never been better.”

“You don’t look awesome,” Baela says, smiling. “That’s okay. I’m not so awesome either at the moment.” She takes your hands and starts spinning you around the floor. “We can be hot bitter bitches together.”

It’s tradition for everyone to hang out after the concert, but you’re in no hurry to get to Jace’s suite; you certainly don’t want to be one of the first people to arrive. You don’t want to be alone with him. You walk very slowly, taking a detour to touch up your hair and makeup. As you are wandering a quiet section of the hallway, you observe that Aemond’s door has been left ever so slightly ajar. You peer inside to find it empty…but his notebook is on his nightstand.

No way, you tell yourself. No no no. Huge violation of privacy and respect.

“Oh yeah?” you object, barely audible. “And what would you call what he said to me?”

You go to the notebook and flip it open. Matte black pages slip beneath your fingertips.

“Just the first page,” you swear to yourself. “That’s all. Then I’m leaving.”

There’s a song written there; or, rather, partially written. He’s only worked out a verse and the chorus so far. Your eyes skim over it with lightning-flash quickness, cognizant that you cannot allow yourself to be caught. At the top of the page is one word in pale gleaming ink like pearls, opal, moonstone: Magic.

(Ver1) You walk into the room and I think:

How am I going to get you out of me?

Are you an infection, a lethal connection,

Or are you a fire to burn me clean?

“Nice,” you breathe, with hushed awe you wish you didn’t have.

(Chorus) Are you a witch or are you a spell,

Is loving you gonna be heaven or hell?

Black cats and white salt, ladders and doorframes

I think of magic every time you look my way

There are drunken, giggling voices and the sound of doors opening and closing in the hallway. You scurry out of Aemond’s suite and proceed to Jace’s before anyone thinks to come searching for you.

The room is thick with label executives and hangers-on, smoke and music; Watch by Maisie Peters is playing. She’s a friend of the band. You’re reasonably sure Aegon has hooked up with her, or at least aspires to. Speaking of Aegon, he is currently flitting around with Cregan. He stops briefly to say hi to you, a chilled emerald bottle of Kronenbourg 1664 in one hand, white powder on the other. He’s there and then he’s gone again. He might as well have been slingshotted to the other end of the galaxy. Criston is standing by the open balcony doors and talking to Daeron. Jace is at the bar laughing loudly—obnoxiously, hyena-like—with some mid-twenties guys you don’t recognize. Baela is glaring at him from one of the couches, seated next to Rhaena and Luke. But when she sees you, the rage vanishes from her face. She waves you over rather frantically.

“Look, I know this probably isn’t going to help your situation, but I just wanted to let you know that I am really, really hoping you’ll be willing to stay with us a little longer—”

“Yes! Totally!” Luke seconds, nodding.

“—And it’s not like we’re going to forget about you or prefer her over you or anything—”

“No, definitely not,” Luke says.

“What are you talking about?” you ask them. “Prefer who?”

Rhaena grabs your hand and squeezes it. You follow her eyeline across the room to the opposite couch, a mirage through warm smoke and icy dread. And you think: I should have known. I shouldn’t be surprised. Of course it would be here—in this city of Instagram models and Hallmark-card romance—that she would reappear like the moon growing large again after fading to a sliver, everything back in its rightful place, nature restored to harmony.

Sitting beside Aemond—on his good side, his unscarred side—is Shelby.

#aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x y/n #Aegon Targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #Aegon Targaryen II x reader #Aegon II Targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader

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mailamoon · 2 months

Text

Day 4 : modern day

Oups, double post for Sanji with his angry Ratatouille... But these two fanarts are designed to work together. After drawing the Parkour Sanji, I really wanted to draw entierly his Octopus tattoo.

Sanji lives in Paris, he works for Le Jules Verne (it's on his t-shirt "LJV"), a very expensive and high-standing restaurant situated on the second floor of the Eiffel Tower. During his free time he enjoys doing Parkour on Paris rooftops (and every kind of extreme sports with his bf Zoro -they are adrenaline addict). He lives in a little room where he occasionally has arguments with a hot tempered rat... (Btw, I'm part of the croissant au chocolat team).

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p0ssywhippedcream · 11 months

Note

My mind keeps wandering back to that Apollo wedding night one shot and ghhhaaaa it's just so fluffy and cute!!! I'm especially obsessed with the part where it mentions the sun chariot proposal. On that note, could you possibly do a req about said proposal, kinda like a prequel to the first one??? Thx. in advance!!!

Song: To Love Somebody by The Bee Gees

"There's a light, a certain kind of light.." Your feet are on the dash of Apollo's chariot, currently in convertible mood, swaying side to side crossed over each other. You're looking at the village below you with an easy smile, catching the breeze and filling it with lyrics, "That never shone on me.."

Your boyfriend is watching you from the corner of his eye, reveling in the sight of the glow of sunlight that dances across your face gently. You look so comfortable, wrapped in a t-shirt and pj shorts as you lounge happily. You belong here, on top of the world with the sun and the man you love.

"I want my life to be," He joins in with you and your gaze turns to him, mirth growing as he sings, "Lived with you, lived with you.."

You both lean in over the next few lines, lips a shared breath away as your voices light up the space.

"Baby, you don't know what it's like.. to love somebody, to love somebody," His mouth brushes yours as he utters the last words of the chorus, "The way I love you.."

You kiss him, lips syncing immediately as your smile grows on his face. You pull away much too soon for his liking but he lets you because he just can't keep the grin off his face.

"What's that look for?" You giggle.

"You're just so perfect." He says it with awe in his tone. It's true, he's met gods less beautiful, kind, smart, funny, less amazing than you. And soon, he could make you one.

You hum contently before poking him in the arm, "When's the surprise?"

"Paris." And it's in view, a certain structure makes that obvious.

I'm a man, can't you see what I am..

"So... like four seconds then."

I live and I breathe for you..

Apollo pulls up to the Eiffel Tower, and then stops. Midair, your boyfriends parks the sun right above the Eiffel tower.

"Apollo..?" You start to ask, looking over the edge before a chuckle makes you turn back to him. He's standing on his seat and offers you a hand. You take it and stand on the perfect leather butt cushions, watching him with confusion.

Then, his knee hits the seat and suddenly he's kneeling before you with a golden box in his hands. You gasp and immediately think Seriously? I'm in my pajamas! before that thought is erased by him opening the box and reveling the most beautiful stone you've ever seen in your life.

To love somebody, to love somebody...the way I love you..

"Y/n L/n, love of my life, most darling of all mortals and perfect of all souls, will you marry me?"

"Oh god, yes!" You don't give him enough time to slip on the ring before you're tackling him in a hug. He's pinned against the door of the chariot, loud laughter coming from both of you as you drench his shirt in tears.

"I'm the god you said yes to, right?" He jokes and you devolve into giggles.

"Yes, Apollo, you certainly are."

The radio sings one last line and the song fades out.

"Can I put the ring on then?" You push yourself off of him with hands on his chest and nod eagerly.

He pulls it from it's place in the box and gently grabs your hand, sliding the gold and chunky sunstone down your ring finger. Your smile is uncontrollable as you watch your fiancé dote on you, placing lots of kisses on your hand when he's done.

"You know," He tells you as he adjusts its position, having moved from his oral expression of joy, "I had a whole poem I wrote but you looked like you would explode if I hadn't hurried and popped the question."

Suddenly, you gasped. "Oh my gods..." Apollo met your eyes with newfound terror, wondering what he did wrong before a mock punch hit his chest, "YOU PROPOSED TO ME IN MY PAJAMAS!"

"You would've gotten suspicious if I asked you to get ready at four in the morning!" He defended through chuckles. He caught your hand as it raised again, "Besides, you look beautiful no matter what you wear."

You pouted and huffed, "But pajamas? If you dress me in-in Uggs on our wedding day, I will go insane and take you with me."

He nodded very seriously, such a threat could not be taken lightly. "I see why but darling, if I did that, I would've already been insane."

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piratekane · 1 year

Note

26...+29? 👀

for you? sure.

twenty-six: you're so warm twenty-nine: you're everything to me

They pick places at random: a few weeks in Florence, some time in Stockholm. They go to the Mediterranean Sea, the Caspian Sea. Ava finds gelato everywhere they go and always orders their most and least popular flavor, giving the shop owners her honest opinions. She finds the most kitschy shop she can and buys postcards and terrible mugs and t-shirts. I'm building a collection, she tells Beatrice after every purchase. Ava loves it and Beatrice loves Ava, even if she feels like their luggage is made up of lime green t-shirts with the Eiffel Tower on it and misshapen mugs with when life gives you lemons make avgolemono written on them.

Ava loves it. Beatrice loves her. That's all there is to it.

They stay in hostels - for the experience, Bea - and take the cheapest sleeper cars on the trains. It's cramped on a good night and practically uninhabitable on the bad ones. But somehow, Beatrice doesn't mind this either. It gives her every excuse she doesn't need to pull Ava close, tangle their legs together, and curl her hands into the back of Ava's sleep shirt.

Because she doesn't need an excuse. They're not hiding anymore - not from anything, including each other.

Ava picked Valencia a few days ago off their worn map. She found it in a secondhand store in Brussels. The woman warned that it was outdated, but Ava called it exciting and happily handed over too many euros before bustling Beatrice off to see the Atomium, something she read about in the back of a magazine left behind on their last train ride.

The map takes up more than half of their bed-for-the-night, hanging over the sides of it. Ava screws her eyes shut and swirls her finger in a circle before jabbing it down at the map. They're closer to Cat's Cradle than they have been in months and Beatrice wonders if she picked Valencia on purpose, if she knows Beatrice is missing Camila and Yasmine. But she's Ava, so of course she knows. And Beatrice knows Ava feels the same.

They had spent the morning walking through Valencia and then all afternoon at L'Oceanogràfic. They went for the turtles - and then we'll do a fancy dinner, promise. A sit down kind - but Beatrice knew it would be more than just the turtles. It would be the jellyfish and the penguins and dolphins.

And it was. They spent an hour outside the penguins habitat while Ava talked to the aquarium worker in perfect Spanish, asking about migration patterns and what penguins liked to eat more, krill or cotton candy. Beatrice watched in amusement. No matter where they went, someone fell in love with Ava, charmed by her easy smile; and someone was always left brokenhearted when they packed their things and headed off to their next destination. But today, Ava had even managed to get them back behind the Employee Only door to see the penguins closer.

Ava insisted they take a selfie with a penguin named Yago so they could send it to Mother Superion. From one nun to another, Ava declared. Beatrice neatly stole the phone out of her hand before she could hit the send message button. They agreed on Camila.

She sits on the edge of the twin bed they're sharing and stretches her arms above her head, listening to the soft pop and rolling it back into place. Ava is carefully packing away her latest find, a L'Oceanogràfic mug with a penguin on it, but looks up at the noise.

"Shoulder bothering you?" She doesn't wait for Beatrice's answer, immediately reaching out to rub at the muscle between her shoulder and the blade. "You should have said."

Beatrice lets her head drop to her chest, eyes closing in relief. "It didn't hurt before now."

She hears Ava tut behind her. Her fingers dig a little deeper. "Do you want to pick the next place?"

Beatrice opens one eye, looking back a little. "We're leaving already?"

"Well, no. I still want to see Bioparc Zoo. They have giraffes."

Beatrice hides a small smile. "I'm sure they have an excellent collection of coffee mugs."

"They do, I saw-" Ava stops herself, hands pausing. "You're making fun of me."

Beatrice rolls her neck back, looking up at Ava upside down. "I am."

Ava scowls playfully and leans down, pressing a kiss to the space between Beatrice's eyes. She opens her mouth to say something but yawns instead, her dark eyes suddenly looking tired. She lets her hands drop from Bea's back and pushes her way back towards the head of the bed.

Beatrice watches her. So many things are different now, light years away from their apartment in the Alps, but this is still the same: Ava lifts her legs and pulls the top of the blanket out from under her, she slides both legs under, she shimmies down until her head is resting on her arms, and she looks expectantly at the other side of the bed.

What has changes is this: Beatrice doesn't hesitate.

Ava sighs as she settles into bed next to her, immediately rolling to the side so they're pressed together, knee to knee, nose to nose. Ava grins, the ends of her growing hair tickling Beatrice's chin.

"Have I told you how much I love this?" she whispers.

Beatrice smiles back. "Only twice every city."

"I've always wanted to do this. Travel the world. Get out of that room and experience life. And when the Halo found me, I thought I had a second chance to do all of that." Ava runs a fingertip down over the bridge of Beatrice's nose. "I'm finally getting to do it. And with you."

She shudders at Ava's touch and her cheeks flush. "Well, you could have done this with anyone," she says, ducking away from Ava's piercing attention.

"But I want to do it with you." Ava meets her eyes, holds them for a moment before she says, just loud enough that Beatrice can hear it over the sound of her heart pounding in her chest, "You're everything to me. If we went back right now, never went on another adventure, I'd still be satisfied, because I was with you."

She inhales sharply. Ava says these things so casually, as if she doesn't know how a simple sentence can dismantle all the hard work her parents did closing her off. But then, Ava probably does know. Ava probably works harder than her parents did to bring them back down.

Ava pulls Beatrice's arms around her, wiggles her way until Beatrice's chin and hums happily. "And also, you're warm."

Beatrice laughs unexpectedly and feels Ava grin against her collarbone. "Am I?"

"Better than those hot water bottles Sister Frances begrudgingly put into my bed on the nights where the heat went out." She feels Ava's scowl now and smooths it away with a hand through Ava's hair. "A better shape, too. An Ava-shape."

"An Ava-shape," she repeats. She feels Ava's cold toes press against her shin. "What is that?"

Ava scoffs. "The perfect shape for me to fit in, obviously."

"Yes, of course," she says lightly. She tips her head down slightly, touches her lips to the crown of Ava's head. "Goodnight, Ava."

Ava smiles again, pressing a kiss to her hollow of her throat. "Goodnight, Bea."

In the morning, they'll go to Bioparc and Ava will charm someone else into letting them touch a giraffe and they'll leave with a too-large t-shirt that Ava will wear to bed and Beatrice will pretend to protest when Ava makes her take a selfie with an elephant.

But Ava loves it. And Beatrice loves Ava. That's all there is to it.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #i am literally delirious does this make sense? i read it three times #but what the pocket friends want the pocket friends get #so i was glad to write this #and honestly ava charming someone into meeting penguins is not outside of the 'what would ava silva do' realm #byeeee

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multifandomfanfic · 2 years

Note

Hi! Okay so hear me out 😂 Reader is Iceman’s daughter and she’s dating Hangman but she comes clean to him about wanting to sleep with Bradly too. One night Jake comes home from work and has Bradly in tow and together they both take care of her.

Great Balls of Fire

Pairing: Hangman x fem! reader x Rooster

Warnings: Smut, threesome, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, Eiffel Tower, face fucking, brief male masturbation, voyeurism, language, hair pulling

Word Count: 6.4k

You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain.

Too much love drives a man insane.

You broke my will.

But what a thrill.

Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!

“Come on, baby, let’s get out of here.”

Hangman yanked on my bicep, attempting to drag me to the Hard Deck's main entrance. He begged me to leave as soon as he'd finished messing with Bradshaw. I, on the other hand, refused to leave, wanting to stay just a little longer. He was enraged that everyone's focus had shifted to Rooster, escalating his frustration and increasing his desire to flee.

"Jake, I don’t want to go yet!”

I tried not to sound angry. I didn't want to enrage Hangman even more.

I yanked back, my gaze fixed on Rooster, who was banging soulfully on the piano while others laughed and danced joyfully around him. I wanted to be a part of the action instead of being dragged around constantly by Hangman.

“Why?! There’s no reason for us to stay!”

"Yeah, well, there’s no reason for us to leave either!”

The veins began to bulge along Rooster’s neck as he belted his song, swinging his head around happily. He was perspiring but didn't seem to mind or even notice. All he cared about was making other people happy with his fantastic piano playing.

“Hey!”

Over the din of happy customers, Hangman yelled. He drew me back and spun me around until our chests collided, his grip on my biceps tightening.

“Stop gawking at Bradshaw and let’s get the hell out of here.”

I stared blankly into his eyes, trying desperately to think of a compelling reason to stay. Hangman’s dull nails sank into my biceps as he furrowed his brows in angry confusion.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Y/N?”

His grip on my arms was becoming increasingly painful. I yanked on my arms, attempting to free myself from his powerful grip.

“Fuck, Hangman, you're hurting me!"

Jake broke free from his enraged stare, releasing my arms and providing me with much-needed relief. The pressure from his firm grip dissipated almost instantly, leaving crescent-shaped nail marks that burned as my skin tried to piece itself back together.

He raised his hands and showed me his open palms, indicating that he was done being handsy.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I don’t know what came over me. Are you okay?”

He swung his head around to catch a glimpse of my arms to assess the damage, dropping his hands to his sides. I suddenly felt very exposed. I shielded myself by crossing my arms over my chest, hoping to keep him from seeing any of me.

“I'm fine, Jake. Don’t worry about it.”

He brought our gazes back together, and I could detect genuine sympathy in his eyes.

“Do you wanna stay?”

I swiveled my head around until I could lock my gaze on Rooster. He was giggling and singing, belting out a tune between guffaws. He pushed the heat to the back of his mind, the fun clouding his senses as a layer of sweat appeared on his tanned skin, dripping down his face and into the collar of his Hawaiian shirt.

The piano was slightly out of tune from the thousands of people who had fondled the keys over the many years. If anyone else had been playing, people would stare at the individual like they had three eyes. Nobody, however, could match Rooster's incredible charisma, which made anything he did appealing, including playing an out-of-tune piano while belting a song despite never having taken singing lessons.

“Yeah. I think I’d like to stay.”

I stated. However, Hangman was unable to hear me due to the din of the joyful bar patrons.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Bradley concluded his song with a final slam of the piano, then stood to receive praise and pats on the back from his pilot friends. After he had finished speaking with his close friends, several strangers who had thoroughly enjoyed the performance expressed their undying admiration for his abilities. Rooster smiled broadly as he greeted them, his pearly white teeth starkly contrasting against his dark mustache and tanned skin in the low light ambiance of the bar. Then, unexpectedly, his eyes drifted through the crowds and met my gaze. Despite his black aviator sunglasses, I could tell his eyes were on mine.

I froze, my eyes widening as I stared blankly through his sunglasses' black lenses. He gave me a small wave and a wide smile before returning his gaze to the people who were desperately trying to catch his attention in order to compliment his impeccable piano skills.

“Hey Y/N, you alive?”

I suddenly felt compelled to leave. I’d hate for Rooster to later confront me about gawking at him, as Bradley was most likely getting a kick out of capturing one of his adversaries' eyes. I didn't want him to tease me about my ravenous gaze in front of Hangman, who was naturally possessive.

I swiveled my head back to Hangman, who was staring at me with a furrowed brow, slightly concerned about my enigmatic behavior.

“No! I think I’d rather leave. But, thanks for offering Jake.”

Jake's brows were raised in surprise.

“Really? But a second ago-“

“I know! But, I just realized how tired I am and I think going home would be the better option.”

It was a terrible lie, and my tone was anything but convincing. Jake, on the other hand, was unaware of my secret and had no reason to believe anything was going on inside my head other than a dramatic shift in my viewpoint.

“Okay. If that’s what you wanna do.”

“That is what I wanna do.”

Jake flashed me one of his famous sly grins and extended his hand to me, his open palm standing upright. I slapped my palm against his, returning his smile before allowing him to pull me out of the bar. Hangman didn't say goodbye to any of his friends as most of his comrades were rolling their eyes at the attention Rooster was receiving and hitting pool balls aggressively into holes with long wooden sticks far away from the front entrance.

We rode in his white Mustang all the way home. Hangman, as is customary, sparked a discussion.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you tonight.”

He said apologetically as he kept his eyes fixed on the dark road ahead of him, illuminated only by his headlights.

“It’s okay, Jake.”

Hangman preferred to return home via the back roads. He had a strange soft spot for long sensual drives with his lover, as rough and intimidating as his demeanor could be to those who encountered him.

Hangman reached his arm over the center console, laying his hand on my leg as his thumb rubbed circles into the soft skin of my inner thigh. Typically a situation similar to this one would build tension in my lower abdomen, but this night had been far too mentally draining for me to feel any form of arousal.

Hangman didn’t appear to care, as if his intention from the start wasn’t to make me wet with desire. He simply allowed his calloused palm to rest on my thigh as I stared blankly out the window, mindlessly watching the dark houses quickly go by.

“Y’know the way you were staring at Bradshaw almost made me think you wanted him to fuck you.”

Hangman laughed loudly, hoping I would stroke his comically large ego and laugh with him while proclaiming my unconditional love for him. But my mind was far too preoccupied with not panicking to worry about Hangman’s inflated ego.

“Y/N?”

He asked softly, my head turned away from him, my heart nearly exploding with nervousness.

“Y/N?!”

He asked, his tone encompassing a hard edge in order to capture my attention.

“What!?”

I exclaimed, turning my head to meet his gaze. The look he gave me sent shivers up my spine. He was angry, truly enraged by my lack of words.

Hangman was forced to pull his gaze away from me and back onto the road in order to avoid a crash.

He recoiled his hand angrily from my thigh and placed it on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white.

“I fucking knew it.”

Hangman's jaw was clenched, muscles protruding from the sides of his cheeks.

“You’ve been thinking about Bradshaw while I’m balls deep inside of you.”

I gulped, unwilling to admit what I knew Hangman was implying.

“Haven’t you?”

He asked, not wanting to look me in the eyes. Instead, he glared angrily at the road ahead, his Adam's apple bobbing in frustration as he gulped.

“God dammit answer me!”

He let out a spontaneous yell, and I recoiled. Jake slammed his hand into the steering wheel, his loosened grip cursing the car to drift. Hangman held the car steady, his face flushed with rage.

“Jake…”

“Yes or no. I don’t want any fucking excuses just answer me with yes or no.”

He hissed through his teeth, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

I could give a logical explanation as to why I had thought about Bradley during sex. But Hangman didn’t want me to explain.

“Let me explain-“

“I don’t want you to fucking explain I want you to answer me!”

“Well if you don’t let me-“

“Yes or no!”

He screamed, the veins in his neck bulging as he slowly pressed his foot onto the gas, the speed crescendoing rapidly.

“YES!”

I snapped back as I watched Hangman's face contort from rage to pain. As his lips pursed into a fine line, his brows returned to a neutral position. He took his foot off the gas, and the car quickly returned to a safe speed.

“No but… not just him.”

Hangman scoffed in frustration.

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Like…”

God, I was about to confess a secret I had spent the previous three months trying to keep hidden. As the embarrassment finally reached my body, my face flushed hot and blood rushed to my cheeks.

“Both of you.”

Hangman cocked his brow in confusion.

“Both of…”

His voice trailed off, the realization finally setting in.

“Oh.”

My stomach flipped. This was extremely humiliating. Hangman was naturally possessive of those he loved. I knew this would not go down well with him and his view of what a relationship should be.

The rest of the car ride was spent in awkward silence, with the air heavy and the atmosphere thick. My chest heaved as I struggled to breathe, but I tried not to show Hangman that every nerve ending in my body was burning with humiliation.

Hangman pulled up to the Kazansky household. I'd been visiting my father because his health was deteriorating rapidly, and I knew I needed to spend some much needed quality time with him before he passed away.

“Thank you for driving me, Jake.”

“You're welcome.”

Hangman had transformed into a lonely facade, his body devoid of any emotion. He was staring straight ahead with lifeless eyes, his hands on the steering wheel, his breath even.

“Goodbye.”

As I stepped out of Hangman's car and shut the door behind me, he didn't say goodbye. My hands quickly moved back and forth at my sides, propelling my feet to move faster as I hurried to my front door. I didn't give a damn if Hangman mocked me for trying to get out of the awkward situation. He now hates me. My wonderful relationship with Hangman had come to an end.

I tried not to slam the door, as my father was probably getting some much-needed beauty rest. I rushed up the stairs, furious at myself, tears forming at the corners of my eyes, clouding my vision.

I should've just denied it, God. I should've joined Hangman in his laughter and professed my love for him. My relationship has now been ruined as a result of my inability to lie. My conscience would not be burdened by a small white lie. I could continue to have a happy relationship while admiring Bradley from afar.

I was happy with Hangman, super happy. He was most definitely the one for me and I’d never consider leaving Hangman for Bradley.

But I’ve heard stories about Rooster that make me fantasize about what he’s like when you catch him alone. Hangman’s cockiness plus Rooster’s slyness?

Now that was a match made in heaven.

“Bye dad, have fun at the beach!”

I waved goodbye to my father as he and my mother left to enjoy a day to themselves. After watching them safely climb into the car, I shut the door, ensuring they were safe before heading out to the sand.

Now it's time for me to wallow in self-pity as I try to figure out how to mend my shattered relationship.

I picked up my phone ten times in the span of an hour, my finger hovering over Hangman's number before I inevitably chickened out.

“Fuck. Why is this so hard?”

I eventually gave up, deciding that it was preferable to wait out the awkwardness. If I called him right now, what would I say?

Hey Jake. Sorry I confessed that I want to have a threesome with you and your enemy.

Yes, I'm sure that would be well received.

I flopped back onto the bed, my head in my hands, staring at the empty ceiling above me. I was left alone with my thoughts, my mind racing through hundreds of possibilities for how to correct the damage.

I’ll just… apologize?

Should I be sorry?

I suppose I should apologize for sharing my fantasies.

On the other hand, I'm powerless over my thoughts.

Hangman, I'm sure, has had some strange thoughts of his own.

The door unlocked with an audible click.

Shit!

I perked up, supporting my torso with my hands behind my back. My gaze was fixed on my bedroom door, as if expecting a man wearing a black ski mask to burst through and whisk me away.

I didn’t lock the door.

Shit, I didn’t lock the door.

“Y/N?!”

Hangman? What the hell was he doing here?

A thief is more likely to enter my house than Hangman. Especially after last night's humiliating confession.

“Y/N?!”

His deep voice echoed around the walls of my house and traveled to my room, where my ears heard him call my name once more.

“I’m up here, Jake!”

Hangman climbed the stairwell. God, his footsteps were awfully loud. Was he stomping his boots on the ground? The deafening sounds of his footfalls became much more coherent as he progressed up the stairwell.

Wait.

I'm sure I'm hallucinating. Hangman didn’t have four feet. How could he possibly be making four stomping noises at once?

I watched the knob twist. My bedroom door swung open to reveal Hangman.

And…

No.

No way in hell.

“Rooster?”

I inquired. I felt as if I had been thrown into the deep end of a freezing pool. My body became cold, and blood from my brain rushed to my heart as my pulse accelerated. I was thrown into a spontaneous state of shock.

Their combined gazes pounded down on me, making me feel helpless and vulnerable.

“Wow Hangman.”

Rooster began, the right corner of his mouth gradually moving into a smirk. He kept his deep brown eyes on mine, and I worried he could sense how nervous I was growing under his all knowing stare.

“I thought you were joking. But she’s so flustered and we haven’t even done anything yet.”

He crossed his arms over his broad chest, drawing my attention to his large pecs under his tight white shirt.

Hangman had vanished from my view. He was out of sight and out of mind as I locked my gaze on Rooster, my mind failing to register that this was real.

“Hey baby.”

Hangman appeared in my peripheral vision, his tone overly pleasant. I averted my gaze from Rooster, hoping to find solace in Hangman's eyes. But his gaze was as sly and mysterious as Roosters', implying that I was the only one who wasn't in on their secret plan.

Hangman took two long, slow strides towards me, his hands smugly shoved into his pockets, until he was only a foot away.

“Will you come here?”

Hangman inquired, bringing a hand from his pockets and making a "come hither" motion with his pointer finger. I rose to my feet slowly to avoid falling on my shaky knees. I didn't take my gaze away from Hangman, afraid that if I did, they'd both pounce like hungry lions.

I took a small step forward, bringing his chest to within six inches of mine.

“Come closer.”

I didn't want to come any closer. I wanted to put as much distance as possible between us. But I knew Hangman would make me do whatever he wanted, even if it meant asking me ten times.

I shuffled forward, cocking my head back to look him in the eyes.

Even when I had to tilt my head back to look Hangman in the eyes, I always felt even with him. But today, under his crushing gaze, I felt small, minuscule, and completely helpless.

Hangman slowly raised his hands, grasping the hem of my shirt and pulling it over my head at a turtle's pace.

“Jake. What’s going on?”

I asked, my tone breathy and my cheeks flushed hot as he dropped my t-shirt to the side. Jake cocked a brow, scoffing loudly.

“I don’t know what there is to be confused about.”

He was perplexed by my bewilderment. My gaze was fixed on Hangman, whose face was so close to mine that I could feel his hot breath fan across my face. Rooster had vanished from my mind.

Hangman’s eyes trailed down to my chest, his calloused fingertips dragging against my skin to push the straps of my bra down my arms until they hung limply at my sides.

“We’re both gonna fuck you.”

Hangman's gaze wandered freely across my front, stepping lightly as he circled my body with the look of a hungry tiger until he reached my backside.

Jake unclipped my bra, the lack of straps allowing it to fall freely to the ground. A cool draft from the ajar window blew through my room, my nipples quickly hardening into stiff peaks.

My mind wanted to run, but my body was completely at the mercy of the two pilots as my feet were stuck to the ground in fear. Besides, it was impossible for me to deny the pinching sensation gradually building in my lower abdomen.

Hangman wrapped his powerful arms around my bare waist, pressing my back flush against his muscular chest. My neck became limp and my head fell back onto Hangman's shoulder as he connected his warm mouth to the sensitive skin on my throat.

“Can I eat her pussy Hangman?”

Shit, I forgot about Rooster.

I kept my eyes focused on the ceiling above me despite growing wet and antsy with arousal at the thought of Rooster joining the scene.

I expected his tone to be shaky, breathy, or at the very least indicate that he was slightly uncomfortable. But he was assured, cool, and collected, and his tone was even.

“I don’t know Bradshaw.”

Jake's tone encompassed a sarcastic edge. He tried to appear difficult, but I knew he had been planning this moment since the moment he proposed the idea to Rooster.

Hangman’s kisses were soft against my neck, warming me up for what was to come.

“Oh come on Hangman.”

Rooster's voice was becoming more audible, and his soft footfalls made my chest heave with excitement.

“If this is gonna work you have to share.”

He spoke as if he was talking to a kindergartner, lecturing them on the importance of sharing.

I was thoroughly surprised with the casualness of their voices. If I wasn’t about to be fucked by two gorgeous men I would assume they were speaking of the weather.

“Alright Bradshaw. I’ll hold her down for you.”

The way they spoke as if this was purely between them ignited a fire within me. The desire to be manhandled caused a pool of arousal to form inside my panties.

Hangman held my waist tight as he backed himself up to the bed, the edge slamming against the back of his knees and forcing him into a sitting position.

I fell atop his lap, my backside slamming into his semi hard cock which was beginning to strain against the confines of his jeans.

Rooster approached me slowly, his head gradually lowering as he strode over to where I was perched on Hangman's lap. I clenched my thighs together as Rooster's crushing gaze became inquisitive as he mentally planned his next moves.

Hangman's mouth became urgent. He was now biting my neck and sucking bright purple marks into the side of my throat. Jake sighed against my skin, the hot air blowing onto the tender bruises.

Rooster lowered to his knees, now tilting his head backwards to lock out gazes as he hooked a finger into the waistband of my pajama shorts. I relaxed my thighs, allowing Rooster to drag the soft fabric of my pajama shorts down my legs.

Rooster maintained intense eye contact with me as he raised his hand, pressing his calloused thumb against my clothed clit. I rolled my hips forward, urging Rooster to touch me more.

The friction I applied to Hangman’s cock ignited a low growl from the back of his throat, the vibrations reverberating around the inners of my neck.

“Stop moving. Be a good girl and sit still while Bradshaw eats your pretty little pussy.”

I gulped, the aching in my cunt already becoming unbearably painful. I had to move, I had to relieve myself from this discomfort. But grinding against Hangman's beautiful cock would only delay the thing I really wanted, a mind boggling orgasm.

Rooster hooked a finger into the waistband of my panties, peeling them off my body and exposing my soaking wet cunt.

Hangman bit a particularly tender area of my neck. I hissed through my teeth as I gripped Hangman's forearms and dug my nails into his well-defined arm muscles.

Rooster's powerful hands grabbed the undersides of my knees and threw them over his shoulders. Bradley arched his back, leaning forward until his face was just inches away from where I craved him the most.

Bradley’s scruffy mustache brushed against my sensitive inner thighs as he placed gentle kisses onto my skin. He stared at me through his lashes, catching every contortion of my facial muscles as I experienced the pleasure he gave me.

“You have such a pretty pussy.”

Rooster mumbled seductively against my thigh.

Hangman paused his brutal attack on my neck, resting his chin on my shoulder to watch as Bradley kissed my inner thighs tenderly.

Bradley buried his face in between my legs, licking a long stripe from the base of my folds to my clit. I gasped, tangling one of my hands in Roosters sandy locks.

“Fuck Hangman, she’s so wet.”

Bradley murmured directly before wrapping his warm mouth around my clit, hallowing his cheeks to harshly suck on my swollen nub.

“I would imagine, pretty girl probably touched herself to the thought of having both of us at once.”

Hangman's voice dropped to a sensual rasp.

“Have you?”

Rooster asked, pulling his glorious mouth away from my aching pussy, his mustache and lips shining with my arousal. His eyes were now soft, a stark contrast from the fiery passion his gaze encompassed only moments before. Bradley was hoping I would admit to touching myself to the thought of his cock throbbing inside of me.

I moaned at the loss of contact, hurriedly confessing the truth so Rooster would make me cum.

“Yes. Yes I have.”

I wheezed, thrusting the Roosters head back in between my legs. Bradley was now more determined to bring me to an orgasm. He tore his eyes away from mine so he could focus on making me feel good.

Hangman’s pants were growing tighter, his now fully erect cock pushing into my backside as his breath became ragged with desire. His grip on my waist became tighter as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Rooster was flicking my clit expertly with the tip of his tongue. The wet, sloppy sound coming from my wet cunt was pornographic.

I was a moaning mess, my entire naked body covered in sweat as my chest heaved with want. I bucked my hips forward into Bradley’s face, my grasp on his hair pulling multiple strands directly from the root.

My backside brushed against Hangman's rock hard cock, and I felt him throb inside his pants as he grumbled in annoyance.

“I told you not to move.”

He growled, his strong arms forcing the breath from my lungs as Rooster continued his brutal assault on my cunt.

“You’ll be wishing you never bucked your hips into Bradley’s face later when I finally get inside of you.”

Rooster’s rough mustache brushed against the skin on my pussy, adding to the growing pinch that was building inside my lower abdomen.

“Rooster, I’m gonna cum.”

He blinked, his gaze shifting to me, watching my brows knit in delight and my face contorted in arousal. The pleasure Rooster was giving to my pussy along with the fact the men were both still fully dressed had me clenching my lower abdomen in want.

“Cum on my face baby. I wanna taste you.”

Rooster's resonance emanated from his chest, his raspy tone reverberating throughout his entire body. The vibrations from his rasp sent me over the edge, my stomach loosening as I convulsed, my back arching away from Hangman's strong chest.

There were only two people in my life who were able to make me orgasm with their mouth solely, Hangman, and Rooster.

As my eyes rolled to the back of my head, I let go of Bradley's hair until my hand was simply resting atop his head. Every muscle in my body relaxed, the intense orgasm sent me spiraling into a senseless state of ecstasy.

Rooster lapped up my juices, ensuring that he didn’t waste a single drop of my arousal.

“Fuck. You taste like candy.”

He continued to lick and suck even after my cunt had run dry. I threw my head back against Hangman's stiff shoulder, taking a deep breath as Bradley tenderly sucked on my cunt, successfully bringing my mind back to earth. When Rooster realized he had tasted all there was, he lifted my limp legs from his shoulders and set them gently on the floor.

His mustache and beautifully plush lips glimmered in the soft sunlight as they were completely coated with my arousal. Rooster looked at me, his eyes soft and tender for a split second before hardening again, the fiery passion returning.

My back hit the mattress as Hangman threw me off his lap, my eyes returning to the blank ceiling above as I took a moment to mentally and physically prepare myself for what was to come.

“Alright Bradshaw, let’s take care of her.”

I shifted my gaze to the side, watching Hangman and Bradley strip. Hangman caught my attention as he grabbed his shirt collar and threw it over his head. He smirked at me, flexing his muscles subtly as he unbuckled the metal buckle on his thick leather belt.

Hangman was done stripping much faster than Bradley. He casually approached my side of the bed. His thick cock was fully erect, his tip pink and swollen, leaking beads of precum.

The aching in my cunt returned as Hangman climbed over me, my gaze directed to his fiery eyes.

Jake gently cupped my face with his calloused palm, dragging his rough thumb pad over my bottom lip.

“You look so pretty under me.”

Hangman jerked his head to the side, locking eyes with Bradley.

“Watch for now Bradshaw, maybe you’ll learn a little something.”

Jake pressed his mouth to my breastbone, kissing between my sensitive breasts as down my soft stomach.

I wanted to catch a glance of Bradley before Hangman buried himself inside my aching cunt. I twisted my neck to the side, locking eyes with Rooster.

God, he was gorgeous. Rooster was standing confidentially, watching Hangman kiss my hip bones with his muscular arms crossed over his glistening pectorals. Bradley’s perfectly sculpted abdomen glimmered in the soft San Diego sunshine.

What was most impressive was his cock. His cock was fantastic, thick in all the right places with a large vein running along the underside. Rooster was also painfully hard, the pink, swollen tip of his dick brushing against his lower abdomen with every minor shift of his body.

“Hey Hangman, your little girl is eye fucking me again.”

I tore my eyes away from Bradley’s naked body, bringing my gaze back to the empty ceiling as my face flushed red with humiliation.

“Oh, is she now?”

Hangman leaned back on his knees, gripped the soft flesh of my hips, and flipped me onto my stomach in a single motion.

Hangman pressed his erect cock to my cunt, not entering me just yet. Instead, he leaned over me, his torso pressing against my bare sweaty back, his mouth grazing over my ear.

“You shouldn’t have done that sweetheart.”

He whispered sensually, gripping his cock and dragging the swollen tip through my soaking wet folds. His dick brushed against my clit, lighting a match in my lower stomach.

I shuddered in pleasure, a chill running down my spine.

Hangman snapped his hips forward, burying himself balls deep within me.

I gasped, gripping the sheets in desperation as Hangman drew his hips back before slamming into me once more.

“Ah!”

I exclaimed, squeezing my eyes shut as the image of Rooster faded from my mind. The only thought running through my brain was Hangman's gloriously thick length pulsing inside of my walls.

“She’s nice and tight, Bradshaw.”

Hangman was rubbing it in Rooster's face, his tone mocking as he yanked my hips back to meet his rigorous thrusts.

My jaw dropped and my knees shook as I struggled to support my body. Jake snaked a hand down my back, burying his thick fingers in my roots and yanking my head back. My neck strained as Hangman tugged on my hair, revealing the bruises he'd left on my throat moments prior.

“Jake.”

I moaned and swallowed the saliva that had accumulated in my mouth.

“Bradshaw!”

Hangman's grip on my hair loosened just enough for me to turn to the side and catch a glimpse of Rooster.

His large hand was wrapped around the base of his thick cock, pumping his length. Bradley groaned everytime he thrusted his hips forward to fuck his hand, his dick pulsing as the blood rushed through his erect cock.

His eyes were rapidly traveling around the scene, unsure of where to look. Rooster dragged the pad of his thumb around the swollen tip of his cock, knitting his brows and sighing deeply.

A pulse of heat traveled to my cunt as I intently watched Rooster pleasuring himself to the scene of Hangman and I fucking.

“Bradshaw!”

Hangman yelled even louder to jolt Rooster out of his stupor. Bradley came to his senses, his hand halting its movements.

“Stop jacking off! Get over here and put you fucking cock down her throat!”

Jake tightened his grip on my hair yet again, jerking my head back to its original position, my head frozen in space once more.

“Jake!”

I screamed, the absence of Rooster causing me to focus on only one thing, the rapidly increasing pressure in my lower abdomen as Hangman buried himself balls deep inside of me with every intense thrust.

“I’m gonna cum.”

Hangman stopped, his cock resting halfway inside of my soaking cunt. I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut and almost sobbing at the loss of movement.

“Now, we can’t have you cumming so soon, can we?”

Jake's voice was sultry and sensual, his tone mocking me. Hangman released my hair, my neck sagged forward, and my eyes fixed on the wrinkled sheets beneath me.

“Alright pretty girl,”

Rooster began. He climbed onto the bed, standing tall on his knees. I regained control of my neck, cocking my head back and gazing at him through my lashes.

My pussy clenched around Hangman's thick cock as I took in the sight in front of me. Rooster’s toned chest was glistening with moisture, his lips moist with saliva.

My gaze trailed down his torso until I was eye level with his thick cock.

“You like what you see?”

I did.

I very much did like what I saw.

Rooster's cock stood fully erect, the bulging veins along its underside throbbing along with his quick heartbeat.

“Yes.”

I said weakly.

Bradley tangled his thick fingers in my hair.

“Open your mouth for me, good girl. I wanna ruin that pretty face of yours.”

I dropped my jaw, allowing Bradley to push the swollen tip of his cock past my plush lips. Hangman resumed his intense pace when Bradley thrusted into my mouth a second time, my nose brushing against the thick collection of pubic hair at the base of his cock.

Rooster threw his head backwards in unconcealed pleasure, showcasing his bobbing Adam’s apple.

“You have the perfect mouth, it’s taking my cock so well.”

The praise rushed to my cunt, where Hangman was brutally thrusting into my g spot. His dull nails dug into the soft flesh of my hips, a loud smacking sound erupting with every wet thrust.

Tears of pleasure began to fall down my cheeks as the tip of Rooster's cock slammed into the back of my throat. I tried hard to surpass a gag, wanting nothing more than to please the two navy pilots.

Rooster threw his head forward, his eyes now staring down at me.

“You look so pretty choking on my cock.”

Rooster swiped away a pleasurable tear from my cheek with his calloused thumb pad.

“She’s a pretty girl, Bradshaw, enjoy it while it lasts.”

Hangman's tone was overcome with sensual gasps. Jake had given up struggling to maintain composure. I hummed against Rooster’s cock, the desire to fall into an orgasm was overwhelming.

The vibrations travelled to Roosters length, his cock twitching on my tongue.

“Oh fuck… I’m gonna cum in your mouth, right down your pretty little throat.”

The sounds of sex bounced off the thin walls. Hangman’s cock was rapidly throbbing inside of my soaking heat as he grit his teeth and enjoyed the feeling of my walls hugging his length.

Bradley was absolutely losing his cool. The jerking of his hips had become sloppy and his moans were strangled. He ripped strands of my hair straight from the scalp as he aggressively bobbed my mouth along his thick cock.

My vision was foggy, tears clouding my eyes as I relaxed my body and allowed the men to use me for their own personal pleasure.

“Tell me how good I make you feel, baby.”

Hangman exclaimed, then scoffed loudly.

“Oh, I forgot. You’re too busy choking on Bradley.”

Bradley’s knees shook, his entire body vibrating in suit as he came in my mouth with one final twitch of his throbbing length. Roosters hot cum coated the inside of my throat, his cock stilling inside of my mouth as his dick became soft atop my tongue.

“I wanna fuck her Hangman.”

Rooster pleaded.

“Absolutely not, you're lucky I let you taste her.”

“Please…”

Rooster's voice trailed off as he gave a few slow, final thrusts of his cock to help him ride out his orgasm.

“Not a chance Bradshaw.”

Hangman said, his tone indicating that the argument was over.

Now that Bradley was done with my mouth, I focused on Hangman's cock pulsing in and out of me. His strong grip on my hips was beginning to hurt, the pain adding to the heightening pleasure.

Rooster pulled out, a long strand of white cum connecting my plush lips to the tip of his cock. Bradley hopped off the bed, quickly exiting the situation to allow us time to ourselves.

“Jake!”

I screamed, throwing my head back in pleasure as the coil in my stomach snapped and released all over his thick length.

“That’s it baby girl, cum all over my cock.”

Hangman wheezed, his sticky cum coating my walls and filling me to the brim. Jake lazily rolled his hips once he had finished fucking me silly in order to assist me in riding out my orgasm.

“God. That was so good. I’m gonna pass out.”

I spoke as my mind drifted in and out of my post orgasmic haze, my eyes fluttering shut before jolting open.

“Lay on your back. I wanna clean you up.”

Hangman pulled out of me, my pussy suddenly feeling empty without him buried inside of me. I flipped myself over onto my back, spreading my legs so Hangman could bury his face between my thighs.

Jake lapped at our combined juices, sucking and cleaning my dripping pussy as to avoid having to grab a towel.

“Where are you going Rooster?”

I asked. Rooster was already clothed and staring in the mirror directly above my dresser, attempting to fix his unruly hair.

“It’s one thing if Ice comes back and catches you and Hangman naked. But if he sees me,”

Rooster turned to face the bed.

“Well, I don’t think you’d want that.”

I pursed my lips into a straight line.

“True.”

I said flatly.

“Bye Y/N. Let’s agree to never speak of this again.”

Hangman finished cleaning me and raised his head above my thighs to lock his gaze on Rooster.

“Why don’t I get a goodbye?”

He asked, his tone overly sarcastic.

“Because fuck you Hangman.”

“That’s fair.”

They both said with a loud chuckle.

Rooster left through my bedroom door without uttering another word. What has been done is done, and there is nothing more to be said about the current circumstance.

“So…”

Hangman began, climbing over me until our chests were flush together, his body heat radiating off of him.

“Was it everything you’d hoped?”

I cocked my head to the side, as if pondering his question.

“Well, it was good until you didn’t let Rooster fuck me.”

Hangman lightly smacked my shoulder, his eyes rolling in mock annoyance.

“Oh fuck you.”

We both laughed quietly to ourselves, smiling warmly at each other.

“Are we good now?”

Hangman inquired. It made me happy to know he was still interested in pleasing me even after my weird confession.

“Yes. I think we’re good.”

I hope you guys like this one! Constructive criticism is always appreciated! :)

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averagewriter-inthedark · 1 year

Text

Ridin’ The Waves 🏄‍♀️ | Javy “Coyote” Machado Imagine

Takes place before, during and after the events of TGM

TGM masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Javy “Coyote” Machado x pro surfer!reader (romantic), dagger squad (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, pop culture references, details of the 2020 Tokyo Olympics | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 9.1k

Requested 📨 yes/no (for @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby)

Premise: From the moment she could walk Y/n L/n belonged to the sea. Riding the waves that started as a hobby, only to lead her to the world’s greatest sporting stage. It would take time before her dream of Olympic Gold would happen as surfing had yet to be recognized by the IOC. But in her pursuit of becoming the greatest female surfer of all time, Y/n found who she believed was the closest person to paradise.

Note: I gotta say writing athlete/Olympian!reader imagines with the dagger squad are truly some of my favorite. Gosh I cannot wait for next year because that means…..2024 Olympics 👀 Guys I’m almost done with my semester! I have less than two weeks and all i have left to do is a paper and final project !! Almost to the finish thank goodness and then I move in with my friend before starting my summer job! Hope y’all enjoyed this work and let me know what you think!

Be sure to watch the video I linked during the Rock’s segment. I didn’t make it up it actually was a segment during the opening ceremonies on NBC’s coverage.

————————

“Is this heaven?” He laid on the surfboard beside her, feet in the water with the warmth of the sun hit his back. A cool breeze was starting to set in as the most beautiful sunset was before him, painting the sky an endless murrel of pink and orange. Only the subtle echo of the low tide filled his ears. Javy pressed his cheek onto the board, finding her smile which made his own appear at her words.

“More like paradise.”

Everyone had their own definition of paradise. Maybe it was the quiet plains of Montana or the mountains of Appalachia. Maybe it was strolling down the streets of Paris with the Eiffel Tower in the distance. Rain pouring down on New York City with a steaming cup of tea in hand or driving down the Pacific Coast Highway with “California Love” blasting through the radio. Reading a book by the fire next to their soulmate, dancing with strangers at a concert. Ask anyone what they viewed as their own personal paradise and the responses will vary.

Y/n L/n felt she was in paradise almost everyday of her life. Waking up to the view of the ocean while birds flew overhead. Feet hitting the sand as she ran to the waters with her board, anxiously waiting to ride the waves. Salt water coating skin and hair, sun beaming down.

Paradise.

From the moment she could walk the beach became her second home. Having grown up on the island of O’ahu Y/n learned how to surf before riding a bike. Her parents surfed. As did her siblings. Getting an instructor wasn’t needed with a family who knew everything there was about the art of surfing. Y/n received her first board at age four, and from then on her life was devoted to the water. Owning more swimsuits than t-shirts and shorts by the time she reached fifth grade.

She was a natural at best. Always predicting when and where the best waves would be. Timing the push up so perfect others—even her family—were unable to keep up.

“C’mon, leave some for the rest of us,” her brother would groan, missing a wave due to her swooping in at the last second. Y/n only laughed in return.

“Gotta be faster than that.”

Her parents, surfers themselves, were basically her coaches. On weekends they were waking her up at the crack of dawn, breakfast on the counter and telling her to be on the beach when she was done. Then of course she had to apply sunscreen, the substance coating every inch of her skin. Once on the beach a thirty minute run and stretching was mandatory before she could get in the water.

Skipping such a step would have her sore all night.

“We’re gonna work on your 360, cutback, and tube ride before finishing the day with cleaning up your alley oop.”

“If I don’t make a lot of mistakes can we watch Lilo & Stitch after dinner?”

“Yes, that is a fair deal.”

Mistakes? What are those? Mistakes weren’t in Y/n’s nature and if they occurred it was a rare sighting. Only time Y/n ever did mess up on a maneuver was when she was first learning it. Once she had it down it was impossible to lose.

All the friends she made loved going to the beaches after school and on weekends—getting all their homework done during the school hours so their entire afternoon was free. They signed up for competitions together, Y/n entering her first at age 14 for the 2004 Juniors season after competitions in regionals since age 11. “You’re gonna win the comp, Y/n.”

“Oh stop playing,” she brushed her best friend off, only to hear the murmurs of agreement from the rest of the group.

“I’m serious! You catch the best waves and ride them perfectly. Those judges are gonna be amazed on Saturday—I bet you’ll even get a sponsor.”

Her best friend was right. Not only did Rip Curl—THE Rip Curl want Y/n to be the face of their new campaign, but the surfing world would know her name for generations to come.

“Welcome back to our coverage of the 2004 ISA World Junior Surf Championship here in beautiful O’ahu, Hawaii here on ESPN. We’re dwindling down on the final competition with the defending champion from last year's event, sixteen-year-old Carolina Kanoa, and newcomer, Y/n L/n. If you’ve been watching the competition then you know all eyes have been on the fourteen-year-old native of Kapolei here on O’ahu, who scored the highest in her heats and received all tens in the quarterfinals after a perfect run.”

“It was quite the sight, Tom. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so effortless in this competition. Y/n’s delivered a captivating performance each wave she’s catched—always getting the first one in her heats and pulling out a big score putting her high on the leaderboard. I wouldn’t be surprised if we see her on top of the podium today.”

“For anyone watching at home who are new to surfing or just want a little refresh on the scoring system, here is how it works: a panel of five judges determine a score one through ten, ten being the best, for each surfer on their wave based on degree of difficulty, innovative maneuvers, combination of major maneuvers, the variety of said maneuvers, and the speed, power, and flow. The highest and lowest score are thrown out leaving the remaining three, which are then averaged out. Now a surfer can catch as many waves as they please but only the two highest scoring waves will be added together to give the total score for that heat. From there competitors are eliminated until there are two finalists.”

Treading water, Y/n paid close attention to the scene in front of her. With only three minutes left on the clock, she was one wave away from crowning herself the Junior World Champion.

“Give me a sign,” she breathed in the salty air. Her thoughts were answered seconds later by a chill running down her neck, gaze snapping to the left where she saw the water draw back. Springing into action, Y/n paddled towards the forming wave, timing it at the perfect moment to end the competition on a bang. She heard the crowd cheer when she stood up, increasing each maneuver she did until finally riding out the end of the wave right as the bullhorn sounded.

Her heart pounded, “Did I just win?” Damn sure she did. Nothing could describe the feeling of holding the championship trophy at the top of the podium. And what made it ten times better, an ambassador of Rip Curl offered her a sponsorship. Before long Y/n’s name and face were plastered across all their campaigns. After winning the ISA Junior World Championships three years in a row—making her a household name in surfing—Y/n went on to senior international competitions. From there her glory only skyrocketed.

ISA World Surfing Games, World Surf League, Rip Curl Pro, Big Wave Tour, Vans Triple Crown of Surfing. Y/n’s little shelf of trophies turned into a full length china cabinet. Traveling back and forth from O’ahu to America. Sometimes even going to South America and Japan for international comps. By age 19 she had created her own maneuver earning her even more attention due to the level of difficulty.

“I don’t see what the fuss is about?” She chewed on a piece of spam, leaning her elbows on the kitchen counter. “All I did was add a couple of extra spins on my aerial.” Her mother gave her a bewildered look.

“That move in itself is difficult, Y/n. Not many perform it in competition and the fact you successfully landed one—with your little spoof nonetheless, people are gonna be amazed.”

“Well, I guess I just got lucky.”

Following high school Y/n turned professional and moved to Honolulu to attend the University of Hawai’i at Mānoa where she studied sports management with a minor in sports science. A family friend had an old Volkswagen Type 2 and Y/n was happy to take it off their hands, fixing it up to have the perfect beach van. Once classes were done for the day Y/n was packing it up with her board, cooler, boombox, and her closest friends.

“You sure this thing isn’t gonna break down on us?”

“Don’t insult Sandy. She’s as good as new,” okay that was a stretch, the van was literally 60 years old, “and I filled her up on gas this morning so we shouldn’t find ourselves on the side of the road.”

“Thanks for the confidence, Y/n. Much appreciated.”

It wasn’t uncommon for people to recognize her on campus. Having generated a public image in surfing—which many of her peers were also involved in—meant she was bound to hear, “Hey, you’re Y/n L/n?” “Oh my gosh I’ve been watching you compete since you were a junior competitor.” “Congrats on winning the Pro this year.”

There were times professors kindly asked, “Can you sign this for my kid? They’ve been into surfing lately and you’re their favorite athlete.” Taking photos with supporters happened occasionally as did giving advice to those wanting to get into surfing. It was a nice feeling for the woman to be able to inspire people and share the sport she loved.

Expanding the art of surfing to the world.

Four years of college seemed to fly by fast. Y/n was surprised she managed to pull through with a 3.6 GPA and graduate Cum Laude with everything in her life. A lot of the competitions were during the school year so Y/n had lots of work on her plate—thankfully some instructors were reasonable and allowed her to get an advance on the material. But she completed her degree with immense relief, aiming to get a career in sports going either by becoming a trainer or manager following her retirement from surfing.

“Y/n, It’s so great to see you again this year at the World Surf League World Championship. You recently graduated from the University of Hawai’i, you’re set to compete in today’s finals to defend your title—how many would this be for you? Number seven?”

Y/n chuckled with the reporter, brushing away a stray piece of hair. “Lucky number seven, yes. I’m so happy and grateful to be competing today—excited to hit the water and try to catch the best waves possible. Regardless of the outcome today I’m just really happy to be here again. I always look forward to this time of year—being able to compete and after working so hard in school this last semester, it’s definitely a relief to not have to worry about finishing a paper last minute once this comp ends.”

“There’s been recent talk of surfing possibly becoming an Olympic sport after much demand following the London Games this year. What are your thoughts? Do you think it’ll be featured in Rio and if so are you going to try and make the team?”

Since becoming a professional sport in 1959 following the first West Coast Surfing Championship in Huntington Beach, California, surfing had yet to reach the greatest sporting stage. The Olympic Games. Held every four years where thousands of athletes from around the globe come together to compete for the chance at gold. Duke Kahanamoku, the father of modern surfing and three-time Olympic freestyle swimming champion having won gold at the 1912 and 1920 Games respectively, first advocated the sport to be in the Olympics back in 1920. Had it not been for him, surfing may not have become as popular in the world as it was.

When it came to the Olympics, Y/n loved sitting by the tv to watch Team USA. Witnessing historic moments and record breaking finishes she was in awe of every athlete who came across the screen. Swimming, diving, track, gymnastics, soccer. So many sports events in a single fortnight. She hoped surfing would become an official sport in the Games. For she too had dreams of an Olympic gold around her neck.

Pausing for a moment, Y/n smiled at the thought of her becoming an Olympic Champion, “I think a lot of us can agree that we’d like to see surfing become part of the Olympic family. It’s one of the oldest sports and has its own professional circuit for decades now—I mean we’ve got people here today from Japan, Italy, El Salvador and Australia. Why not include it? And you can definitely expect me to be training the moment it is.”

It would be four years before Y/n could make do with that promise. On August 3, 2016, two days prior to the opening ceremonies of the Games of the XXXI Olympiad, the IOC announced surfing would finally be an Olympic sport.

“Exciting news for the surfing world,” the headline appeared on the screen of ESPN’s afternoon coverage, “the International Olympic Committee has just confirmed the sport will be introduced for the first time in its history at the Tokyo Olympics taking place in 2020–marking 100 years since surfing legend Duke Kahanamoku first started advocating for it to be featured. Professional surfing isn’t new to international competition having debuted at Huntington Beach, California in 1959. Since then there’s been several meets featuring surfers from all over the world—the most recent being the 2016 Rip Curl Pro where ten-time World Surf League champion Y/n L/n claimed the title once again for the fifth time since her senior international debut in 2007. L/n is just one of many professional surfers who’ve advocated for surfing to be in the Olympics over the years and expressed interest in competing for a chance at gold. With the confirmation by the IOC this morning, I’d say we’ll be seeing her at the trials in four years.”

The morning after the announcement Y/n headed to the beach to find her father propping her board into the sound. “So four years, huh?” Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, feeling the wind breeze past them.

“Seems like a long way, but it’ll be around the corner before we know it.”

“We better get started then.”

Morning, afternoon, evening. Every day Y/n was on the water catching waves left and right. Perfecting maneuvers, getting air in her aerials. When taking breaks she’d go on runs and to the gym. She still participated in yearly competitions and surfed with her friends, but her training habits became more intense as she prepped for Tokyo. When she wasn’t sleeping, eating, or competing she was on the water.

By 2019 Y/n had accumulated the most titles won by a female surfer with ten ISA World Surfing Games—formerly the World Surfing Championships, ten Rip Curl Pro trophies, five QuickSilver pro Gold Coast, five-time triple crown winner, and the 2016 champion of The Eddie Aikua Big Wave International. Winning The Eddie and becoming the first woman in history to do so after the event returned from a seven-year hiatus had Y/n on the front page of several sports magazines around the world. It was a huge accomplishment. Pushing Y/n as the favorite to win gold in Tokyo.

Towards the later end of the year, October in fact, Y/n found herself on the sunny beaches of San Diego, California. August to November were the best months to surf in the area, being it was late summer going into fall where the heat wasn’t excruciating. Still one had to wear a wetsuit to even touch the water.

Y/n was in town to visit an old friend from college and to help the Pacific Beach Surf Club with their beach cleanups and participate in a charity competition. Having traveled in San Diego a few times she was no stranger to the club and welcomed with open arms. Volunteering in their cleanups was the least she could do to prepare the beach for the charity event.

When they finished they all changed out of their clothes into wetsuits, wasting no time to hit the waves. “Hey!” Her friend yelled from where she was treading water, tone teasing, “be sure to leave some for the rest of us, yeah?” Y/n threw her head back in laughter.

“I make no promises!”

Anytime Y/n surfed out of training or competition she felt so free. No pressure to be perfect. No shouting from her father. No commentary from the sportscasters or questions from reporters. Only her, her board, and the beautiful sea.

She cheered on her friend and the people in their cleanup group when they caught waves. Complimenting them whenever they did a cool trick. In return they whistled and hollered for her. They soon developed an audience from the shore. Children and adults alike stop to watch them in awe. Instantly drawn to Y/n who glided effortlessly, guiding her board into a tube ride.

Unbeknownst to the surfer, a group of navy pilots had stopped their game of dogfight football to observe the show.

Jake whistled, “Damn she’s good.” Mickey agreed.

“I don’t think I’ve seen someone surf like that. She’s a natural.”

“Probably has been doing it for years,” Bradley commented, fixing his aviators. Natasha and Bob hummed in agreement.

“I think I’m in love,” Javy breathed out, simply in awe of what he was witnessing. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen showcasing talent on a board he could only dream of possessing.

He wondered what her laugh sounded like, seeing her head tilt back at something her friend said. Even from the distance her smile was breathtaking. Hair pulled back into a tight bun, body adored in a wetsuit to combat the cool water. A cheeky smirk thrown at her peers when she started paddling toward a forming wave. Standing on the board like a pro and making all kinds of turns and tricks Javy knew he’d wipe out the second he attempted them. Speaking of wiping out, she hadn’t done it once.

Jake nudging him from the side snapped him out of his daydream, “Go talk to her.” At the nod of his head, Javy realized she was running across the sand, stopping when she got to an area of coolers, towels, and backpacks.

“No!” He hissed, eyes reading, ‘are you crazy?’

“Why not? Just go up and start complimenting her. Ask her how long she’s been surfing. That’ll start a conversation.”

Javy scoffed, “Easy for you to say, Mr. Ken Barbie Doll who doesn’t need a confidence boost when talking to women.” Jake went to rebuttals but the sound of Reuben coughing stopped him.

“Uh guys….” He lifted a finger, their gazes following to find a family of four approaching the young woman. They couldn’t hear what was being said, but seeing her take a notepad from the little girl before scribbling in what appeared to be an autograph followed by the father snapping a photo with his phone, it was enough to conclude she was someone.

“Are…is she signing autographs?” Javy wondered aloud. He watched her sign the little boy's boogie board, posing for a photo with him before kneeling down to be on both the children’s level and smile for the camera. Hell even the parents wanted a photo, one of her friends coming over to hold the phone while they positioned themselves on either side. Then finally the whole family had a group one, saying their goodbyes and thank you’s to the woman who waved as they left.

“So she’s kinda famous,” Bradley said the obvious, everyone in a daze. Probably trying to figure out who the woman was, as none had recognized her as an actress or singer.

While they were busy investigating, Y/n unzipped her wetsuit leaving her bikini underneath and pulled on shorts with a graphic t-shirt overtop. “What are you guys doing after this?”

“We’re gonna grab some drinks at The Hard Deck. You down?”

“The Hard Deck?” She repeated with a tilt of the head. Never had she heard of the place.

“It’s that bar over there,” Y/n turned to the direction her friend was nodding at, eyes landing on a building not far from where they stood. “Great vibes, but I must warn ya it’s always filled with Navy fellas.” Y/n perked up slightly. Having lived on O’ahu all her life she was familiar with Navy personnel. After all, Pearl Harbor was located just on the coast of the island.

“Really?”

“Yeah, Miramar is not too far from here. It’s where the pilots train so expect to see some in flight suits.”

At around 6 the group packed it up and headed for the bar. Upon entry Y/n saw exactly what her friend had warned. The place was buzzing. Servicemen and women on every corner, music blasting from the jukebox. They approached the bar top to order a round of beers before settling over by the high top tables, splitting the group up since there were about eight of them.

“Check it out, Machado,” Payback clapped his friend’s back, making him turn to where his attention was. Javy’s eyes widened upon seeing the surfer.

“Did they just get here?”

“Looked like it. You should talk to her—especially since this is the second sighting in mere hours.” The pilot rolled his eyes.

“I don’t wanna come off as a creep, Fitch. What am I supposed to say ‘Hey, sorry if this is weird but I saw you surfing earlier—can I buy you a drink?’ She might throw me to the sharks.”

Natasha shook her head, “men.” A moment later Penny arrived with a tray of beers, placing them down on the seat beside Bob where the guys were shooting pool, “delivery for my favorite dagger squad.”

Thanks were sent her way followed by Jake asking, “Say Pen, you know those guys?” The bartender glanced over her shoulder to see who he was referring to, nodding with a smile.

“Oh that’s some members of the Pacific Beach Surf Club. They were cleaning up the beach earlier for tomorrow's charity competition. Expect the place to be packed if you drop by, it’s always a madhouse. This year they’ve got some of the best surfers participating.”

“Do you know if she’s one of them,” Javy tried to act cool when pointing out the woman.

Upon Penny’s smirk, the answer was clear, “Unless my eyes are deceiving me, I believe that’s ten-time world surfing champion Y/n L/n.”

“Ten?!” Mickey repeated, “Holy shit.” Around him the others were matching his expression. Javy immediately grabbed his phone to type in the name. Sure enough the image of the woman seated at the table appeared on his screen. Clicking on the Wikipedia page he started to read aloud for the group the opening paragraph.

“Y/n M/n L/n, born y/b/m yb/d, 1990 is an American professional surfer from Kapolei, O’ahu, Hawaii and a ten-time World Surf League Women’s World champion, the most titles won by any female surfer to date. L/n made her debut at the World Surf League Junior Championships at age 14 in 2004 in her native O’ahu, winning three consecutive times before turning to senior international competition where she’s won a total of forty world titles—including becoming a five-time triple crown winner. As of 2016, L/n is the defending champion and first women to win the Eddie Aikau Big Wave Invitational. She is set to compete at the first ever U.S Olympic Trials in hopes of making the Tokyo Olympic Team where surfing will make its debut at the Olympics.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Jake peered over Javy’s shoulder, watching him scroll down to view Y/n’s career statistics. Mickey appeared on the opposite side, whistling under his breath. Natasha took out her own phone to search herself, Bradley, Bob, and Payback all glancing over to see.

“She’s literally called the greatest surfer of this generation,” Bradley pointed out. “Talk about intimidating.”

“Now you gotta buy her a drink, Machado,” Payback concluded, igniting another glare from his friend. “Say you pulled an Olympian.”

“I’ll take it to her,” Penny offered, and before Javy could stop her the woman was back behind the bar. They watched her take a Corona from the cooler, add a lime and proceed to the table the athlete was at. “From the gentlemen by the pool tables,” Penny smiled at Y/n, nodding to the group, “the one the blonde is pointing at.” Turning her head, Y/n saw the guy in question pushing his friend’s hand down, a reddish hue on his cheeks when they made eye contact followed by a wave.

‘Well hello there,’ she thought, smiling at the handsome man. He was in a pair of basketball shorts and t-shirt reading NAVY in bold letters. The group he was with all scattered to make it look like they weren’t eavesdropping when Y/n approached, Corona in hand, “Hi.”

“Hello,” even his voice was attractive. Everything about him was. From his clear smooth skin to his dazzling smile. Toned arms and legs.

“Thanks for the beer.”

“Anytime,” he tipped the one in his hand, Y/n clicking hers against it. “Sorry if this is weird at all. I saw you surfing earlier and was trying to muster up the courage to come talk to you….but couldn’t find the words to say.”

Y/n smirked, gesturing to an empty pool table, “how about a game? Maybe it’ll help loosen your nerves.” Moving to a cue Y/n sees his grin widen, “I’m Y/n by the way.”

“I’m Javy, but you can call me Coyote.”

“Coyote?” She repeats with a chuckle, “That’s an interesting nickname.”

“Callsign actually,” he politely corrects before explaining he was a naval aviator. Grabbing his own cue while she sets up the rack, he added, “Wasn’t my doing.”

“Then how’d you get it?”

“Um…” he made a face, as though he was embarrassed to say. “I’ll tell you if you win this match.” A sound between a scoff and a laugh escaped her.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be.” Javy raises his hands in defense, laughing with her. “And if you win?”

His own smirk appears, “You give me your phone number…maybe even let me take you out.” Biting back a grin and fighting the warm feeling in her chest, Y/n removes the rack leaving the pool balls neatly centered.

“Challenge accepted, Coyote.”

It was safe to say both came out as winners that night. Though Y/n won the game and got the scoop on Javy’s callsign origin, he walked away with her number and plans to have dinner the following night after her charity event. Javy made the promise to come out and watch her surf, excited to see her in action. Hearing Y/n talk about the sport and her accomplishments was even cooler in person than reading it off the internet. From her amateur days to becoming a full blown professional. Winning countless championship titles, being the first woman to win The Eddie and her dream to win gold at the Olympics.

Javy was smitten.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” She smiled when they reached her van at the end of the night. They talked for hours to the point they lost track of time. It was 11 o’clock and she had to be up at five.

“You said it starts at noon?” At her nod Javy continued, “I’ll be there. And I look forward to our dinner plans after.” Y/n felt the heat rise, hoping it wasn’t displaying on her face.

“Me too. Thank you for a fun night, Javy,” feeling bold, Y/n leans to place a kiss on his cheek. The action leaves him stunned, smile growing bigger as she pulls away. “See you on the beach.”

Now Javy had loved the beach before meeting Y/n. But his love for it and the ocean only grew the moment he watched her ride the waves. Cheering from the sand as she dropped down and glided the tide with ease. It made him want to stay there forever.

He understood quickly why she was regarded as the greatest female surfer of all time. Yeah it was a charity competition and not a world championship, but Y/n treated the waves no differently. She was a beast. Total control of her board, little to no mistakes.

Their dinner date was filled with laughter, flirty sarcasm, stories so outrageous one would think they were bluffing. Javy spoke of his time at Top Gun and his friendship with Jake. Y/n told him about her college days. Both engaged in conversations about dreams and aspirations. Yeah they had their dream careers, but one can always dream bigger. Dream about friendship, dream about love.

Dream about the future.

When the night came to an end, Y/n laid her head on the pillow with a smile on her face, “I think this might be paradise.”

23 July 2021–The Hard Deck, San Diego California.

“It’s almost time for USA!” Javy hushes everyone, grabbing the remote to increase the volume. The place was packed mostly with the squad's friends, colleagues, the Pacific Beach Surf Club, and college students from UC San Diego. Togethery they were gathered to watch the opening ceremonies of the 2020 Tokyo Olympics.

The Tokyo Olympics.

Finally after a whole year of waiting the Games were finally being held. A global pandemic sure would be the only thing to stop the most iconic two-week sporting event in the world.

And Javy’s girlfriend, 12x World champion Y/n L/n, was there to be part of surfing's Olympic debut. Gold on her mind.

The two had been long distance the majority of their relationship, but FaceTimed nearly every day with promises to visit as soon as restrictions were lifted. Y/n traveled to San Diego in the winter of 2020 to mark the couple’s one year anniversary. Then Javy flew to Hawaii in the spring, spending two weeks in Kapolei where most time was spent surfing and late night drive on the beach.

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” he sang at the top of his lungs, windows rolled down .

“Than on my surfboard out at sea,” Y/n followed, smile wide on her face with her hair blowing in the wind.

“Lingering in the ocean blue.”

“And if I had one wish come true.”

Together they sang, “I’d surf ‘til the sun sets beyond the horizon!”

Y/n tilted her head back, “‘Āwikiwiki, mai lohilohi. Lawe mai i ko papa he’e nalu.”

Belting out together once again, their voices echoed in the night, “Flying by on the Hawaiian roller coaster ride!!”

“‘Āwikiwiki, mai lohilohi. Lawe mai i ko papa he’e nalu.”

“Pi’i nā nalu lā lahalaha. ‘O ka Moana hānupanupa.”

“Lalala i ka lā hanahana. Me ke kai hoene i ka pu’e one.”

“Heel, hele mai kākou ē.”

“Hawaiian roller coaster ride!”

During the Olympic surf qualifying event in Huntington Beach the whole squad was in attendance to cheer Y/n on. Javy embraced her in tears, lifting her onto his shoulders to the hollars and whistles of their friends and family.

Y/n was officially an Olympian.

Now usually during the parade of nations of the opening ceremonies Greece is the first to enter the arena followed by the countries in alphabetical order with the hosting nation entering last. Having waited a whole year due to the Covid-19 pandemic, the world was excited to get the Games started. But to everyone’s surprise the order of the parade of nations would proceed differently than prior Olympics.

Greece still entered first, followed by the Refugee Olympic Team and then the nations paraded in based on where they fell on the Gojūon system. Japan would be the last country to march in, but for the first time ever the hosting countries of the next two Olympics entered before the hosting country. And what were those two countries?

France and The United States of America.

Paris was set to host the upcoming 2024 Games just three years away, and then in 2028 Los Angeles gets the honor once again of bringing the world together. The last time LA hosted was in 1984, and the last time America itself hosted the Summer Games was Atlanta 1996.

“Okay everyone shut up!!” The tv was turned to the loudest volume possible, all in attendance falling to hush whispers.

“Everything changes,” Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson’s voice echoes through the speakers, his silhouette figure walking into an empty arena. “The longest wait of their lives is over.” The beat of the music gets louder, building in pressure. “And the combination of their blood, sweat, and tears,” his face is revealed under the light, “finally arrives.”

The beat drops in time with the image of fireworks rocketing from the Rio arena, an announcer’s voice stating, “this is the moment that you all have been waiting for.”

“It’s not easy to bring the entire whole planet together,” the Rock states, “and it certainly wasn’t tonight. But, here we are.”

“Finally!”

“It’s finally here.”

“The Olympics are finally here,” Gold Medalist Simone Biles grins.

“Yeah, I’m hyped up.”

“Can’t wait to show the world what I got.”

The image shows Dwayne once again, “Tonight we are all so lucky to witness the hardest workers in the room.” Then it changes to athletes training, from gymnast Sam Mikulak to sprinter Noah Lyles. “The athletes who are a brilliant tapestry of talent, commitment, and drive.”

“Drive, drive, drive!”

“Now what was once considered unthinkable just one year ago has become a glorious reality. We come together united to celebrate the Olympians who exemplify the very best in all of us.”

🎼 legs are shaking, hands aching, 🎼

Simone Biles appears, determination in her gaze as she races down the vault runway. “It’s Simone’s party and everyone else is just a guest,” Tim Daggett’s voice cuts in during the clip of Simone at the World Championships, followed by the Rock.

“She is absolutely the greatest gymnast the world has ever seen. But even if there’s nothing left to prove, there’s a chance to launch herself even higher into the rarest air of immortality.”

As Simone lands her vault, it transitions into Katie Ledecky entering the pool. “The most dominant swimmer in the world.” “It’s just ridiculous!”

“She swims like a machine created to wreak havoc and decimate with impunity.”

“Katie Ledecky smashes her own world record!”

“But in reality she’s about the nicest person you’ll ever meet,” the rock’s face returns, bearing his own smile like Katie. “And kindness matters. Always.” Track star Noah Lyles running takes over. “He makes running as fast as you can look the way it’s supposed to look.”

“NOAH LYLES, WORLD CHAMPION!”

Dwayne grins, “Damn fun.” The next athlete featured was the one they were all waiting for.

“On dry land she’s impressive, in the water she’s simply lethal,” the Hard Deck erupted in cheers, Y/n flashing onto the screens showcasing her drop in during the WSL World Tour.

“That’s my baby!!!” Her name appeared in big bold letters like the others, ‘Y/n L/n. Kapolei, O’ahu, HI.’

“Monstruos wave for Y/n L/n, but she handles it like a pro.” The clip shows her pointing to the sky in victory following her win. “She’s here to prove why surfing should’ve been in the Olympics ages ago,” the Rock looks proud, “and look cool as hell while doing so.”

The tone of the video shifts, bringing forth the raw and emotional reality of athletes who’ve given every inch of their soul to be on the world’s greatest sporting stage. “They’re kids from Minneapolis—.”

“Kenny Harrison!” A girl crosses the finish line in joy, soon embraced by her father. “Raleigh.”

Fellow surfer and native Hawaiian Carissa Moore is shown, “And Honolulu.” A baby in a stroller being pushed by her mother. “They’re working moms with unfinished business.” Allison Felix with her daughter.

“This is what makes all the sacrifice worth it.”

Simone Manuel becoming the first Black woman to win an individual Olympic gold at the 2016 Rio Games. “The barrier breakers who’ve proven the power of the platform.”

“I can’t begin to tell you what this means for the sport of swimming in the United States.”

“There’s Jordan—!” A montage of Gold medal winning teams flashed. The Fab Five. The women’s soccer and basketball teams. The women’s rowing team. The Fierce and Final Five of U.S Gymnastics. “And the teams that have dominated for generations with no intention of changing the script for this one.”

“Get the gold medals ready. Again!”

“These awe-inspiring multi-talented athletes are taking on the world.”

🎼 ‘You bring me back to life.’ 🎼

Between the music and feel good montage, some of the viewers in the hard deck were having trouble holding back tears. Chills racking up their body. It made them want to get out and start training to be a world class athlete.

“They really are the best of us. They’re bringing us together.”

“That’s a new world record!”

“And they’re about to give you, at long last, the greatest two-week spectacle the world has ever seen.” Close ups of Team USA’s Olympians rolled, Javy wiping his eyes when Y/n appeared. “It is their Games. It is our Games.”

Absolute chills.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am so grateful to have the honor of presenting to you….Team USA.” At the last word the Rock disappears, cutting to Team USA entering the Tokyo dome—the American flag flying high, “USA! USA! USA!” Though they couldn’t hear the cheers from the Hard Deck across the ocean, that didn’t stop the building from erupting in whistles. It was only the opening ceremonies so one could imagine what it would be like come the 26th and 27th.

When Y/n hits the waves for a chance at Olympic gold.

Tsurigasaki Beach, located 40 miles from Tokyo, was the place where it would all happen. The damp sand beneath Y/n’s toes felt comforting. Although the overcast skies made her worried. Tropical Storm Nepartak caused the waves to be more aggressive and unpredictable. It was going to be an interesting day of competition.

After qualifying with a big score in her heat the previous day, Y/n was set to compete in the quarterfinals that morning. From there the semi-final contestants would be decided, going straight into the event before finals that afternoon. Three events in one day if she made it all the way to the end.

“I’m going to be so sore tonight.”

Shortboard in hand, Y/n raced to the water the second the horn sounded. Instant shivers along her arms from the cold feeling. Cloudy skies prevented the sun from heating the water, “goodness gracious.”

Quarterfinals breezed by. Y/n started off strong with a score of 7 for her first wave, going on to claim two more, another 7 and an 8 bringing her total score to a 15. Putting her, American Carissa Moore, South African Bianca Buitendag and Japan’s Amuro Tsuzuki into the semifinals.

“Stellar performance by Y/n L/n of the United States. She had a bit of trouble on her second wave—which we can’t blame her for; many competitors have been having difficulty today due to the impact of tropical storm Nepartak on the tide. L/n’s score of 15 puts her at the top for the quarterfinals, but that can all change when we return for the semifinals in the next hour. It looks like she’ll be up against Japan’s Amuro Tsuzuki for one of two spots in the gold medal match.”

“That’s how you do it,” Javy clapped at the tv, the footage replaying Y/n’s competition highlights. “Semi-finals here we go.”

During the semis the pressure was on. Y/n could feel it all over, anxiety coursing when the horn sounded. Thirty minutes on the clock, ticking down to eliminate either her or Amuro. Usually her luck turns out for the better whenever she gets the first wave, however, Amuro beats her to it. Catching the next one Y/n focuses on pulling speed and managing her flow into the maneuvers, receiving a score of 6.2 on her first wave, 8.3 on her second and 7 on her third. Unfortunately a wipe out early on her fourth and final wave results in a score of 3.

“Is that gonna be enough?” Jake cringes, noticing the look of unease on his friend's visage. Y/n appeared shaken from the wipe out. Very rare has she ever messed up greatly in competition. But there’s always a first for everything.

Javy had a paper in front of him, writing down Y/n’s scores and the ones of her competitors to predict what she needed and if she was qualified to the final round.

“Her six and seven will be dropped, putting her at 11.30,” he taps the pen on the bar surface, “if Amuro doesn’t get another wave in the next,” Javy checks the time, “two minutes then it should put Y/n through to the finals.”

Amuro did in fact catch another wave before the horn sounded, ending their round in the semis, but it wasn’t enough. Her total score accumulated a 7.43, eliminating her from the final competition.

“One more,” her father/coach took a hold of her shoulders. “You’re almost there, Y/n.” Almost to the gold. “Rest up, you got one hour.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. Picking up a water bottle and plotting on the sand Y/n downed the liquid and munched on an apple. To pass time she scrolled through Tik Tok, sent a selfie to Javy—who sent one of him and the squad back—and called her family in O’ahu to calm her nerves. She had already talked with Javy that morning before quarterfinals, promising to FaceTime him after the finals.

It was nerve racking. Regardless of how the event went, Y/n was guaranteed the silver medal. USA would take home both Gold and Silver in surfing’s debut being fellow American Carissa Moore beat out South Africa’s Bianca Buitendag in their round.

One competition left.

Bidding good luck to Carissa, Y/n took her position and waited for the horn. Thirty minutes on the clock. Thirty minutes to a gold medal.

“Here we go,” Payback announced in time with Y/n paddling out to sea. Javy rubbed his hands together, eyes glued to the screen.

“And the two Americans are off in the first ever gold medal match for surfing. Carissa Moore, the 2019 WSL World Champion, and twelve-time title holder Y/n L/n head-to-head to declare who will become the woman to win surfing’s first gold medal. Both have exemplified great performances today—it’s not easy doing a quarterfinals, semi-finals, and finals all in one day, but these pros make it look easy.”

“There she goes!” Nat shouted, earning cheers at the bar when Y/n caught the first wave of the competition.

“Kicking off with the first wave, in just two minutes of the clock starting is Y/n L/n. Dropping in beautifully, easing into the wave…..Straight into an roundhouse cutback, which she does flawlessly. Bottom turn, I think she’s gonna try and do a off-the-lip right here….and she nails it! I think she’s hoping to elongate this wave as far out as she can. Carving now and finishing with a 360 into an Ariel. Wow! That was a great start by Y/n.”

“Yeah that’s what I’m talking about!” Javy shouted over the cheers, grin plastered wide only to brighten more when the score came back a 8.7. “HELL YEAH! LETS GO!”

Carissa’s wave was impressive. She managed to hold it down with complicated moves to earn a 8.5. Both women scored huge on the first waves followed by 7s across the board. Nearing the final five minutes Carissa managed to get a 6.43.

“She can’t get anything lower than a 6.23,” Javy felt sweat pool on his forehead, suddenly feeling hot in the bar despite it being the ass crack of dawn.

“She’s got this,” Nat patted his back.

The clock was ticking down. Two minutes to go and Y/n had yet to find a wave. Placing her palm onto the surface, she took a deep breath, “please, give me a sign.” Not a moment later she felt something in her say to look right.

There, brimming about fifteen feet away, was the perfect wave.

Wasting no time Y/n’s chest planted to her board, paddling as fast as possible. Her heart was pounding, salt water splashing. Positioning herself in front of the forming body, Y/n silently called out to whoever was listening for strength.

“Wow she’s going for that huge current out on the west side. Moore is too far back—it’s gonna be L/n on the final wave of the women’s competition. With one minute to go she’s dropping in—.”

Y/n allowed the adrenaline to consume her, giving it total control as she dropped in. The highest wave of the competition yet, Y/n knew she’d be having a tube ride with how it formed. Picking up speed, she knelt slightly, paralleling her chest with the wall of the wave, the water curving around her. Blocking the world from her view.

It was just her and the sea. No one else.

Closing her eyes briefly, she pictured she was back on O’ahu in the water she grew up in. Sun beating down and gentle hum of seagulls.

Like she was in paradise.

The image left as quick as it came. Y/n snapping out of her daydream to exit the tube ride to the cheers of her father on the beach, curing back into the wave to finish on a high note by performing her signature Ariel. Smiling the whole way down just as the horn signified the end of the competition.

“And there you have it folks. The women’s surfing finals has officially come to a close—Y/n L/n ending her Olympic Games with a remarkable last wave. Absolute perfection with speed, precision, and control. That’s gonna be the highest score for her I feel.”

“C’mon, c’mon,” Javy bit his nail, knee bouncing from the anxiety of not knowing. Carissa’s total score was displayed first, 14.93. Y/n’s lowest was a seven, highest 8.7. Her final wave was amazing, but judging was unpredictable. Anything could happen.

Then in the blink of an eye the hard deck exploded.

“I don’t believe it! Tens across the board for Y/n L/n bringing her total to 17.00!! Y/n L/n has won the gold for the United States—Carissa Moore with the silver. USA goes one and two in women’s surfing at its Olympic debut!!! Take it all in, we are witnessing history,” the screen shows Y/n and Carissa embracing, leaning over their boards to congratulate the other, “Team USA has much to celebrate, the world of surfing has their champion. Y/n L/n adds gold to her name—surfing’s first Olympic Champion here in Tokyo!!”

Y/n laughed the entire time she paddled to shore, raising to her feet to race towards her father. She was soaking wet but he didn’t care. “You did it!” He yelled, kissing her head with tears in his eyes. “You’re an Olympic champion! I’m so so proud of you!” Soon they were greeted by Carissa and the rest of Team USA’s surfing members. The two women were lifted onto shoulders, American flags draped over their backs with photographers surrounding them.

It was a moving image. Two women from Honolulu and Kapolei, Hawaii won surfing’s first Olympic silver and gold medal. If only Duke Kahanamoku could be there to witness.

Back at the hard deck celebratory drinks were served and toasts raised to Y/n. Javy barely contained his emotion, eyes watering the moment her name came back the winner. Natasha and Jake embraced him in a hug, the guys whistling and hollering. Penny rang the bell.

“She won! Oh my God my baby is a gold medalist!! This is the best day ever!!”

The entire podium ceremony Y/n was on cloud nine. Placing the gold medal around her neck, she took a moment to stare at it. Disbelief and awe in her eyes. ‘Wow, I actually did it.’

When the national anthem came to an end Y/n did the traditional bite of the medal for the cameras. Posing with Carissa and Bianca afterwards, Y/n was ushered to interviews.

“Hello, Y/n,” the reporter beamed, “congratulations are in store—what an amazing moment for you. You’re the first gold medalist in women’s surfing at the Olympics. How does it feel?”

“It’s absolutely a dream come true. For years the surfing community has wished for this—to be in the Olympics and for me to be part of its debut, winning the gold medal…I-I can’t put into words how much this means to me. I’m so grateful and honored.”

“You’ve been around for a while now,” the reporter mentioned, “2004 was the first time we saw you and you’ve gone on to have a stellar surfing career. Winning the WSL World Surfing Games twelve times now—competing when it was still called the WSL World Championships and became the first woman to win The Eddie Aikau Big Wave Invitational in 2016. This is your first Olympic Games, surfing will be at the Paris Games in three years. Can we expect to hopefully see you there?”

“I wouldn't rule it out,” Y/n winked with a giggle. “Paris is in three years and I would love to return to the Olympics again. After dreaming for so long I don’t want to let it go so easily. Of course anything can happen between now and 2024 but with my family, friends, and boyfriend cheering me on with their endless support…” she gave a cheeky shrug, “I’m gonna work hard and get back in the water once I’m home.”

“We’ll be rooting for you, Y/n. I don’t think the surfing world is ready to say goodbye to you. Anything else you’d like to say before you have to go. Anyone you’d like to say thanks to?”

Instantly the Olympian brightened, eyes locking on the camera. “I wanna give a shoutout to my hometown of Kapolei on O’ahu—the place where this journey started on the beautiful beaches and waters of my home. To my family and friends, thank you for your love, support, guidance and always cheering me on even when the going gets tough. My dad, who’s been my coach since I was seven is with me here to share this win, I couldn’t have done this without him. To my San Diego family watching, you better save me a beer at the Hard Deck when I come visit next week,” she winks, knowing the squad would get a kick out of it. Then Y/n softens, “and finally to my boyfriend, Javy, who’s with our friends in Fightertown. I love you so much, thank you for being my rock during quarantine and pushing me to do my best. I can’t wait to see you and this is for you.” Holding up the medal, Y/n blows a kiss to the screen before saying goodbye to the reporter.

Upon landing in San Diego two nights later, Y/n was greeted by a celebration from her friends. Members of the Pacific Beach Surf Club were there, as were the dagger squad. Javy met her in the middle the second she exited the terminal, lifting her in his arms. “Finally your back!! I’m so fucking proud of you!” Setting her down, he kept his arms around her and the two jumped up and down like school children in a heap of laughter.

Finally they calmed, sharing a sweet kiss. “How was your flight,” he walked when they pulled away, moving to grab her carryon back.

“Long,” she moaned, leaning into his side. “But worth it.” Soon she was surrounded by their friends. Congratulations all around, Mickey asking to see the medal, Jake saying all her drinks are on him, Nat telling her how much she missed having another girl around. “I missed you guys,” Y/n pouted, “man I wish you all could’ve been there.”

“Don’t worry, Y/n/n,” Bradley patted her shoulder, “We’ll be there in Paris.”

“That’s quite a bit away, Roo.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “but there’s no harm in planning now.”

“Let’s let the woman rest before kicking her training mode into gear,” Javy teased, earning a playful nudge from his girlfriend. Together they got her bags and headed straight for The Hard Deck. They drinked, they danced. Javy and Y/n had a rematch of their pool game.

“This feels a bit like deja vu,” she smirked, chalking up her cue. Javy winked, puckering his lips in an air kiss causing her to laugh.

For a week Y/n stayed in San Diego before flying home to Hawaii with Javy. Again she was greeted at the airport by her family and friends she’d grown up with. The local news station was present, students from schools wanting to join in on the celebration. It felt amazing to be home after two weeks away.

They settled in at her Honolulu home, finding the perfect place to display her medal and ordered take out since neither was in the mood to cook after a 6 ½ hour flight. Once finished with dinner Y/n gave her boyfriend a knowing look, “Wanna watch the sunset?”

She didn’t mean sitting on her porch or even the sand. No, she meant taking the boards and laying out on the sea as the calm surface of the water kept them afloat.

Javy agreed, rushing to get his swim trunks on while she put on a swimsuit. Grabbing their boards they locked up the house and jogged the quarter of a mile to the beach, paddling out to get a front row seat of the descending sun. Colors of bright orange and pink painted the sky. A beautiful contrast to the deep blues of the ocean.

“Is this heaven?” He whispered, finding her eyes staring back at him from where her cheek pressed to the board. All the love conveying in the simple look. And with her gentle words, Javy felt all the worry and unease he ever experienced lift from his soul.

“More like paradise.”

……………….

TGM Tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan , @caitsymichelle13 , @poppyalice2001 , @cutelittlepotatofry , @luckyladycreator2, @americaarse , @elenavampire21 , @back-tooo-black , @wildellaa , @artemissunn , @pinkpantheris

#Spotify #javy machado fic #javy machado imagine #javy coyote machado #javy machado x reader #javy machado x you #javy machado fluff #Javy Machado x y/n #coyote imagine #coyote x reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fluff #top gun maverick imagine #tgm imagine #tgm x reader #athlete!reader #surfer!reader

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sluttywonwoo · 1 year

Text

instead of you [part seven] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

word count: 3.6k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!! ; i know minho is the chef of the group but just suspend your disbelief for this series and pretend it’s jisung

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

The following morning came way too fast for your liking. Jisung snoozed his alarm three times and you were still passed out by the time he finally shook you awake. You followed the plan that he’d outlined, using makeup to cover the hickey as best you could. You could still see some purple peeking through if you squinted, but you hoped no one would look at your neck that closely.

Since you’d worn matching t-shirts yesterday you weren’t being forced to coordinate outfits today. You didn’t even pay attention to the clothes you threw on before you were tying your hair out of your face and walking out the door with Jisung.

You held his hand, half out of habit, half to steady yourself. You were even more sore than you had been yesterday, like you had predicted, and were having trouble staying upright.

The rest of the Hans were already in the lobby waiting for you to join them.

Dom took notice of your wobbly state right away as you stumbled down the stairs with Jisung’s help and cracked a smile. “Can you walk?” he joked.

Both Minho and Felix whipped their attention towards you but avoided your eyes, expressions unreadable. You could feel Jisung smirking behind you, his hand resting on the small of your back.

You just grinned sheepishly and nodded. “I’m just sore from yesterday, that’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Jisung’s brothers exchange a look and you wanted to die in the spot. You knew they thought you were lying, knew they thought you were sore for a completely different reason. You clearly hadn’t thought your plans from last night through, because this was mortifying.

“Well do some stretches because we’re going to be doing a lot more walking today,” he exclaimed cheerfully.

“I’ll be sure to do that,” you promised him half-heartedly, cheeks burning.

You and Jisung lagged behind the rest of the group, like usual, as Dom and Nikki led the way to the first stop of the day. You paused for breakfast at a different, but similar, café and Minho ordered an assortment of baked goods for the six of you to share. Everyone was quiet as they ate, exhaustion already starting to take its toll on the family.

You were only one day in and your energy was fading. Thankfully, there would be a few days of rest between France and Italy, but until then you were stuck running on empty.

You almost strangled Minho when he elected to take the stairs to the top of the Eiffel Tower instead of taking the elevators, but kept your composure and settled for mumbling complaints to yourself as you trekked up the 1665 stairs with the rest of the Hans.

“How are you not sore?” you groaned, low enough so that only Jisung would hear.

“I am, I’m just not dramatic about it like some people.”

“I will push you off of this goddamn tower right fucking now,” you threatened.

Your best friend gave you an amused look. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Don’t test me.”

“I’m used to this,” Jisung explained. “Twenty-something years of Han Family Vacations trained me for this moment.”

“Do you guys ever just go to the beach?”

“We do. But there’s lots to do at the beach too. Surfing, volleyball, football, jet skiing, snorkeling, scuba diving-”

“Oh my god, do you people know how to relax?”

“No, not really. It’s not something we’re particularly good at.”

“I guess that explains why you’re all good at everything else.”

If you thought you were winded by the time you made it to the second level of the structure, it was nothing compared to when you reached the top. Your legs felt like jelly and your lungs were on fire. You also felt like you might be sick but that had more to do with your debilitating fear of heights than it did with being winded.

At least you were able to take comfort in the fact that everyone else was also out of breath. Felix was even doubled over with his hands on his knees, wincing like he had just been kicked in the stomach.

“Yup, definitely going to feel that tomorrow,” Minho grunted, stretching an arm across his chest.

“And you’ll have no one to blame but yourself,” you added bitterly.

He dropped his arm and smiled at you, cocking his head to the side in a playful manner. Sweat had started to gather along his brow, making his bangs stick to his forehead. His hair was a bit lighter than Jisung’s, and not as wild. From what you could tell Minho didn’t make as much effort to style his hair as Jisung did, at least, if he didn’t have anywhere important to go. Minho could get away with leaving his hair down straight, while Jisung had to fight with his curls in the mirror for a minimum of fifteen minutes before he considered himself presentable. He’d let it grow past his shoulders if you let him, but whenever it began to curl up around his ears you always begged him to cut it, insisting that a mullet wouldn’t do him any favors.

Minho was still smiling at you and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“What?” you demanded.

“Nothing,” he said earnestly, shaking his head. “I’m just surprised you still have a voice, that’s all.”

There went your face again, burning with embarrassment. You could feel Minho’s gaze on your neck and brought your hand up to it subconsciously, fingers brushing over where Jisung had given you the hickey. Had you already sweat your makeup off? It wouldn’t surprise you given the heat and amount of exercise you had just done.

But if Jisung had noticed it, he didn’t say anything. In fact, he didn’t say anything else about last night for the rest of the day.

“Want a drink?” Jisung piped up from behind you, putting a hand on your waist.

“I already have a water bottle,” you replied in confusion.

“No, like a drink,” he clarified and tipped his hand towards his mouth with his thumb and pinky out, nodding at something behind him.

It was a champagne bar, and it had just opened for the day, but there was already a significant line formed at the counter. It seemed as if all of the visitors were eager to start day drinking as soon as humanly possible.

You considered Jisung’s suggestion and shrugged. When were you going to get the chance to drink champagne on top of the Eiffel Tower again? And if everyone was doing it, you might as well join…

Jisung rallied his brothers to go order for your party while you waited with his parents. Dom and Nikki decided to go look out over the edge of the balcony while you stayed back, having already pushed the limits with your fear of heights. You people-watched instead, observing the numerous couples and families enjoying their vacations.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to Jisung offering you a flute of rose champagne. The glass was cold to the touch and it soothed your warm skin. You clinked your glass against his in cheers and took a small sip. The bubbles felt good on your throat and you had to remind yourself not to chug the rest in front of Jisung’s family. Despite what they already knew about you, you still wanted to keep up appearances as much as possible.

“This is pretty romantic, isn’t it?” Jisung remarked, staring off at the surrounding city.

“It would be if I wasn’t sweating my ass off,” you sighed.

He chuckled and shook his head. “The alcohol is just going to make it worse.”

“I know,” you groaned, “but it’s cold and it makes my brain feel tingly so I’m going to ignore that.”

“A couple more of these and you won’t be able to walk back down the stairs.”

“I’m already not able to walk back down the stairs. I can barely feel my fucking legs,” you complained, taking a bigger sip of your champagne.

“Maybe we should have trained you for this,” Jisung joked. “Like how athletes train for marathons or something.”

“I don’t think it would’ve helped,” you admitted.

He shrugged and downed the last of his drink in one go. “Guess we’ll never know.”

You and Jisung spent your free day roaming around the city by yourselves. You visited the bookstore Minho had told you about and Jisung bought you a couple of books- despite your protests. He insisted that it was part of his duties as your fake boyfriend as well as compensation for agreeing to be his fake girlfriend and who were you to deny him? You actually did try to deny him, several times. But he was annoying enough to get you to break so you let him buy you some paperbacks off of your to-read list and a French translation of your favorite novel.

By the evening you were both too tired to stray much further than where you had found yourselves so you were content to stay put and wander the surrounding streets together.

Notre Dame was across the street from the book shop so you made your way over there so that you could stare up at it in awe. The cathedral was still closed for construction so there wasn’t much to do there other than take a picture in front of it while making an obscene gesture at the camera.

After that Jisung led you down the steps to the Seine river where you sat in comfortable silence together. You perched yourselves on the edge of the water, Jisung sitting cross-legged with you laying your head in his lap, and left each other to your own devices. You started reading one of your new books and Jisung pulled out his camera to capture what was happening around you.

The sun was beginning to set behind the tall arched roofs, bathing the city in soft pinkish-orange light. The water was too choppy to make out a proper reflection of the sunset, but you could still catch glimpses of pink clouds and fading blue sky if you really tried.

Slowly, the noise and life around you died down along with daylight. Pedestrians and bikers were fewer and fewer until there were hardly any at all. You and Jisung waved to the ferries and party boats as they passed, delighting in the blinking lights and honking horns you got in return.

It wasn’t long until Jisung convinced you to pack up your things with him to head back to the hotel. You slept in the taxi on the way home.

The rest of the French leg of the vacation consisted of a bus trip to Versailles, a day exploring the historical neighborhoods of Provence, and an afternoon getting lost in Cassis before you were getting your passport stamped at the Port du Cassis to travel to Italy.

Italy was Jisung’s choice, being the foodie of the group. He was interested in the touristy stuff too, but his main motivation for choosing Italy was the culinary aspect.

You wouldn’t arrive for a couple of days though, since you were traveling by fucking yacht. The plan was to set sail from Cassis and take the scenic route through the Mediterranean Sea all the way to Venice.

You had been in shock when you first stepped on board the Fallin’ Flower and you were still shocked an hour later once you had been dismissed to unpack. You had never been on a yacht before and you weren’t entirely convinced that you were on one now. You thought you might have been dreaming.

“What do your parents do again?” you mumbled in disbelief as you settled into your own little cabin with Jisung.

“Uh, Dad’s a writer. He does some stand-up comedy. Mom’s got her own photography business.”

You looked up at the crystal chandelier above the bed. “Are you sure your family doesn’t have any gang affiliation?”

Jisung laughed and shook his head. “You still haven’t figured it out?”

“Figured what out?”

“Minho.”

“What about Minho?”

“He’s the one paying for most of this.”

“What? How? He’s only like twenty-something!”

“He’s a dancer.”

“Like on Broadway?”

“Try K-pop.”

“Damn,” you whispered, feeling almost numb with shock that your best friend was related to someone famous. “Is he any good?”

“A lot of people seem to think so,” he said with a shrug. “Nowadays he mostly choreographs for groups but he used to be a backup dancer for BTS and is pretty well known in the industry and related circles, especially among their fans.”

Suddenly it all made sense. The Audi, the yacht- why Minho always had his hood up like he wanted to blend in. A fucking K-pop idol. Kind of.

“You probably don’t remember this,” Jisung added after a moment’s pause, “but when we first met I asked if you liked K-pop.”

“And that’s how you decided if we could be friends or not,” you concluded.

Jisung nodded. “You said you’d never listened to a single song. So I knew you’d like me for me.”

“Do people really try to use you just to get to your brother?” you asked.

“You’d be surprised.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is.”

Silence fell between the two of you as you continued to put away your things.

“I can’t believe you never told me your brother is famous.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he sighed. “Are you mad?”

You considered your answer before you said it. It did sting a little that Jisung wouldn’t tell you something as big as this, you were under the impression that you told each other everything, but you understood why. Even though it made it seem like he didn’t completely trust you.

“No,” you answered finally. “I’m not mad. I’m a little hurt, we’ve been friends for so long, but I get why you wouldn’t want to tell me.”

“It’s not that I thought you’d see me differently, or ditch me for my brother, but I was selfish. I wanted to keep you to myself for as long as possible.” His admission took you by surprise but made you feel warm regardless, even if it didn’t fully make sense to you. “It was never about you,” he assured you. “It was always about him.”

You nodded and cleared your throat awkwardly. Neither of you had ever been very good at the deep stuff.

“I think I’m going to go lay out on the deck,” you said, grabbing one of your bikinis from your open suitcase. “You wanna come?”

Jisung declined, mumbling something about a sunburn waiting to happen, and opted to nap in the cabin instead. He promised to join you later and laid back on the bed, left arm covering his eyes.

You changed into your swimsuit and made your way up to the top deck of the boat where Nikki and Minho were laid out in sun chairs already, chatting about the view of the water.

“Y/n!” Nikki exclaimed when you entered her field of vision. She sat up and pushed her sunglasses back to look at you properly. “I’m so glad to see you up and about, come join us!”

You swallowed thickly and approached the two, sitting gingerly on the edge of a lounge chair across from them. Minho shot you a glance and smiled easily. You waited for the weird feeling or the nervousness to come, now that you knew more about who he really was, but it didn’t. He was still just Minho to you. You were much more nervous talking to Jisung’s mom.

“Where’s Jisung?” Nikki asked, voicing what Minho must’ve also been thinking.

“He’s resting in our room,” you explained. “I wanted to catch a bit of sun before it set so it’s just me for now.”

“That’s good too,” she said, her smile matching Minho’s. “I’ve been meaning to tell you how happy I am that you’re tagging along with us!”

“I think you told her, mum,” Minho pointed out, sounding embarrassed on Jisung’s behalf.

“I know, but I just meant that the more I get to know you the more I can see why you make Jisung so happy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy.”

You felt a pang of guilt twist in your chest, another one of those nagging thoughts telling you that what you were doing was wrong. It’s true that you made Jisung happy, just not in the way his mom thought.

“I don’t know if he told you this,” she continued, “but we’ve never met one of his girlfriends. So when he told us about you-”

“Mom,” Minho interrupted, sliding his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to give her a look.

Nikki pursed her lips together and took the cue from her eldest. “Sorry, I won’t embarrass Jisung anymore while he isn’t here to defend himself.”

“When he’s present it’s fair game?” you guessed.

“Exactly. Same goes for all my boys.” The last part was clearly directed at Jisung who tsked in exasperation and put his AirPods in.

You watched your best friend’s mother pick up the book that had been laying flat on her stomach and resume reading it, prompting you to fish a book of your own out from your tote bag.

“Oh, hon, don’t forget to put on sunscreen,” Nikki reminded you suddenly, “you might not burn as easily as our family, but it’s still important to protect your skin. If you need some you can borrow some of ours.”

“That would be great, actually.”

Nikki passed a tube of sunscreen to Minho who passed it to you. You smiled gratefully and immediately began applying the lotion to your arms and legs. You hoped Jisung’s mom didn’t think any less of you for forgetting something so important. You knew it wasn’t that big of a deal, but internally you were docking yourself points from the Hans’ overall impression of you.

Once you covered every part of your body that you could reach you were left with a dilemma. You still needed sunscreen on your back. You could either ask your supposed boyfriend’s mom to help you apply it, or your supposed boyfriend’s older brother. Neither option was ideal, nor was walking all the way back downstairs and waking up the aforementioned supposed boyfriend just to put sunscreen on your back.

You’d just ask his mom. No big deal. It was like asking an aunt, right? There was no reason you couldn’t-

When you looked back over to Nikki you realized that she had fallen asleep. Her book lay abandoned on her shoulder, likely still turned to the same page it had been when she last picked it up a few minutes ago. You debated waking her up, but decided against it.

It was fine. You could just burn. It wouldn’t be that big of a deal. You wouldn’t stay out in the sun for too long anyway…. but you knew Jisung would be mad at you if you did. And Nikki would be disappointed if she found out that you had gotten a sunburn literally right after she had told you to put sunblock on.

It wouldn’t be a big deal to ask Minho if you didn’t make it a big deal. All you had to do was get up the courage and-

“Do you need help?”

You almost screamed when you heard Minho break the silence. It was as if he could read your mind- not that it was hard to when you had your arms wrapped awkwardly around your torso, hands covered in white lotion trying to reach your back with little success.

“Uh, yeah. Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

Minho stood from his chair and crossed the deck to yours where he situated himself behind you on the cushion, straddling the metal frame of the chair. He held one of his hands out for your to wipe the sunscreen off of yours so that he could apply it.

“I’m going to start with your neck, okay?” he asked. You nodded in response. “It might be a little cold.”

You braced yourself for his touch, but still tensed when you felt his fingers on your skin for the first time. The lotion was cold, and a shiver rolled down your spine as he began to rub it in. His hands were strong. It was impossible not to notice with the way he was massaging the sunscreen into your shoulders. Your breath hitched when he slid a finger under one of your bikini straps and pushed it to the side. He muttered a tight “sorry” as he worked on the areas that had been covered by the straps and quickly moved on to your lower back.

You told him it was fine, but your voice was shaky. You tried to tell yourself that it was fine, but you were less convinced.

Minho was a friend, friends did this for each other all the time. But your body was betraying you. Your heart was racing, and you couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or… something else. Something else that you wouldn’t let yourself think about.

It wasn’t even that hot out, but you were sweating, and you prayed Minho couldn’t feel it. You breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled your straps back up to where they had been sitting on your shoulders, only for your relief to be cut short as he slipped his hand under the band across your back with more sunscreen.

And as luck would fucking have it another voice piped up from out of nowhere. A voice belonging to your best friend.

“What did I miss?”

iou tags: @sluttywoozi @gimmeurtmi @phobia0325 @fwess @hipsdofafangirl @galaxleeknow @urmomma0324 @bangmechanpls @102598s @farfromsugafanfic @ritzy-roo @dimpledsatan @bvselines @wonderfulshinee @imwithurmother @smollquokka @rosexjimin @skizzel @endzii23 @lady-lena @kwanisms @ch4nniebang @lilramennoodle @babyphotos0325 @dearalice @sojohns @mistlitmoonlight @yoontaethings @babebatter @mal-lunar-28 @shy-kisu @zerefdragn33l @downbadreading @sana-within-you @saquso @bunnispaces @reianagarcia @hyunehans @imtoooyoungforthisshit @i8rsie @honeslykindahorny @214racha @hgema @chillllllli @vixensss @smhlino @feiyaa @borahae-reads @bigbearenergy @hoodiesandicedcoffee @darkacademic2512 @y00nzin0 @bunnispaces @i8yul @shinypieceofgarbage @woozarts @just-a-little-delulu @djeniryuu @hbzzzbork000 @mimzibee @sofiaslayed @kangyounghyunhands @lexxxxs-things @baejinswrld

add yourself to my taglist here!!

#instead of you skz #iou skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x female!reader #stray kids x bi!reader #lee know x reader #lee know x female reader #lee know x bi!reader #stray kids x female reader #stray kids series #lee know series #lee know fic #lee minho x reader #minho x reader

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strawberryscarecr0w · 2 months

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Alphonse x Seth x GN! Reader

~ ~ ~

CW: BDSM, Jealousy, Argument, Use of Alcohol, Light Bondage, Smut with plot, Established relationship, Out of character, Overstimulation, Everyone being grumpy assholes, Hair pulling if you squint, “Make me,” trope, Brat reader x Mean doms, Lots of Aftercare, Oral (M receiving), Eiffel Tower position

These plans had been set for weeks, you had to plead with your boyfriends to go with you. Your childhood friends had invited you as well as Alphonse and Seth to go out to this halloween party. The whole day had gone great, work went smoothly, the fresh batch of cookie you’d made tasted delicious, everything was perfect. Until your beloved boyfriends came home in a horrible mood.

“Hey boo,” Your favorite pastel punk greeted as he dropped his work bag off on the counter. Seth barely grumbled a hello, both were clearly not in the best mood.

“Welcome home! How was work?” You asked nervously, reading their less than pleased expressions. “Take a wild fucking guess,” Alphonse mumbled as Seth just huffed, kicking off his shoes.

“Not great?” You said, sympathy in your voice, leaving your station at the fridge to go comfort your tired boyfriends. Al melted into the hug, humming a response into your hair. Seth sighed, walking over to press a kiss to the side of your head. Once the two pulled away, they started their retreat to their shared bedroom. “Oh! Don’t forgot we have those plans to meet with my friends at the bar.” You said, turning back to the cookies you’d baked, you hadn’t even noticed their footsteps had stopped. “You can’t be serious right?” Seth said, sounding almost irritated as you looked over your shoulder. “We made these plans weeks ago, we can’t just cancel.” You said with a nervous laugh, “That would be inconsiderate.” Alphonse let out a dramatic groan, “Boo, can we please just cancel? You can make it up to your friends another time, we’re tired.” He whined, almost pouting at you. “No, we already canceled once, it’s not fair, you two said this morning that you’d come home and help me with the cookies but you came home late and I had to finish on my own.” You sighed, you weren’t upset that they came home later than expected but they had promised they would go to this party with you. “If it is that important, we’ll go.” Seth grumbled as he slipped into their bedroom, Alphonse following with a roll of his eyes. You were left alone in the kitchen, fighting back your irritation as you took in a few quick breaths before turning back to your baked goods.

Thirty minutes pass and they return from their room. By now you had packed up everything you needed for the party, all you needed were your boys. Seth had slipped into jeans and a white t-shirt while Alphonse was in a black hoodie and his classic bleached jeans. “You two look good,” You hummed, smiling, feeling your irritation begin to fade as the boys seemed to lighten up a bit. After some quick trips to the car, they were on their way to the bar. The drive was pretty quiet, you at the wheel while Seth sat in the passenger seat with Alphonse in the back. “So,” You said, trying to break the awkward tension, “why are you two so tired?” Seth sighed at your question, turning away from the window to look at you. “I had to handle customer services today because our usual guy got sick last minute.” He said, rubbing his temples. You scoffed at the irony and couldn’t help but let the comment slip, “It’s sucks when people try to cancel something they committed to last minute.” Almost instantly both of them seemed to bristle, Alphonse scoffing under his breath. “Not fair, Boo, we’re the ones who had hard days today, y’know going out there and making actual money? What did you do all day anyways, bake fucking cookies?” He snapped, coming out harsher then intended, almost instantly beginning to apologize before you cut him off, “Funny you say that considering how you barely make shit.” Seth let out a unamused snort, the comment feeling more personal than he would have liked. The rest of the ride to the bar was filled with a pissed uncomfortable silence. Once they pulled into the parking lot, Seth quickly got out of the car followed by Alphonse. You got out, ignoring the glares at the back of your head as you pulled your sweets out of the trunk of the car. “Cmon.” You hissed sharply, satisfied at the begrudging footsteps that followed behind as you entered the party.

An hour went by and you’d almost lost the boys in the crowd. There were people everywhere at the party, you had been dragged out to the dance floor by your friends and hadn’t quite found your way back to the quiet corner where you’d last been with your boyfriends. After a couple of drinks, you had been dancing with no remorse. You wouldn’t be considered really even tipsy but the bit of alcohol in your system had made you feel brave. A hand gripped your shoulder, making you turn only to be greeted by a stranger. “Hey sweetheart, can I buy you a drink?” The man said, looking up and down your figure. Usually you would have beat the guys ass for even looking in your direction but as you were about to tell him to fuck off, you had an idea. “Fuck it, sure.” You replied as you allowed the man to drag you to the bar, as you walked through the crowd you made eye contact with Seth who was being a wall flower, Al at his side. Almost immediately, his eyebrows raised in outrage, elbowing poor Alphonse so hard he nearly toppled over. You grinned at them, tossing a wink at the pissed off cowboy before disappearing back into the crowd, dragged away by the stranger. Once the man had sat down with you, two drinks were poured and you downed yours quickly as the man made a weak attempt at flirting with you. You only nodded politely as your eyes wandered through the crowd, once your gaze settled on the corner where your boys had been hiding. To your dismay, they weren’t there anymore, you’d barely had a moment to wonder where they had gone before a familiar arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you from your seat. You began to protest only to hear a southern voice snarling at you to shut up. As quickly as you had been picked up, you were tossed over Seth’s shoulder, Alphonse leading the way through the crowd as you kicked, screaming as you pounded on Seth’s back. The music was too loud for your complaints to be heard so there was no trouble as you left. You were tossed in the back of the car as Alphonse and Seth took the front seats. “Hey assholes! Maybe warn me next time you’re gonna fucking kidnap me?!” You shouted from the back seat earning a sarcastic chuckle from Seth. “It’s not kidnapping, brat, we’re dating or did you forget? You seemed to have a fun time ignoring our relationship when you were googly eyeing that piece of shit.” Alphonse snapped back, his tone becoming mocking as Seth drove them home. You knew better than to reply, letting the rest of the ride sit in silence.

Once they’d pulled into the driveway, car coming to a stop, Seth pulled you from your seat, practically dragging you inside with Alphonse trailing behind. The front door slammed shut and you turned, expecting Seth to let you go as the trio entered the kitchen. Usually if they did argue, which was rare, it would happen in the kitchen. This time though, you were dragged to the bedroom. You were barely given the time to question before you were tossed on the bed. “What the hell?!” You shouted angrily but your complaints fell on deaf ears as Alphonse pinned you down, Seth pulling his shirt off as Al spoke, “Y’know, we should of just stayed home maybe snuggled up and ate those goodies you made but no, you wanted to drag us out even when we were exhausted. Now you gotta pay the price, that little stunt you pulled? Not cool, Boo, actions have consequences.” He said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. You swallowed hard, trying to stand your ground despite the warmth you started to feel spread between your thighs at the anticipation. “Well- if you two had just kept your word then maybe I wouldn’t have been so bratty.” That earned a laugh from Seth who ran a hand through his brown hair, “We did keep our word,” he pointed out, “you just decided it wasn’t enough.” At that, you found yourself blushing in embarrassment, looking away as you realized he had a point. Seth sighed, his eyes meeting Al’s as they came to some silent agreement. After a moment of quiet, Seth moved between your legs, parting them with his hands as he rested his head in between them. “Were we not giving you enough attention, sugar? Did you need us so badly that you felt the need to act out?” He cooed, leaning his face into your thigh as he looked up at you. At that moment you had been too flustered by Seth that you hadn’t noticed Alphonse sliding behind you until something bonded your wrists. With a squeak of surprise, you turned to see Al’s signature bejeweled belt tied tight around your wrists. “Why don’t you tell us how bad you need it, how bad you want this dick.” Alphonse whispered in your ear, making you jump at the boldness of his statement. As Seth held eye contact with you, he began to place kisses on your thighs, making you flush. You finally looked away from the cowboy between your legs to give Al attention, only then processing what he said. “Make me.” You breathed out, chuckling when Alphonse’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. After a moment of silence, Al’s hand grabbed a fist full of your hair, shoving your face down into the sheets. It wasn’t long before the little shorts you had put on had been dragged down to your ankles, bringing your underwear along with it.

The boys maneuvered until Al sat in front of you and Seth kneeled behind you, hands gently rubbing your hips. You watched eagerly as Alphonse unzipped his jeans, not noticing Seth’s hands spreading you until he roughly pushed two fingers in your needy hole. You whined, fighting back protests for him to go slower as his fingers rapidly curled into your sweet spot. A much softer hand slid into your hair, redirecting your attention as Alphonse pulled out his dick, the tip tapping against your lips. You got the memo and opened your mouth, your tongue sliding over the tip while Al chuckled above you. “Oh now you’re behaving huh?” His grip on your hair got rough and he used you to shove himself more in. The tip hit the back of throat, causing you to gag as you desperately tried to breath through your nose. You hadn’t even noticed Seth’s fingers sliding out of you until you felt the cold air against the back of your thighs. Before you could question it, you heard the familiar click of his belt being unbuckled. As you tried to pull back, Al yanked you farther along his dick, causing tears to form in your eyes. There was warmth against your thigh and you jumped at the feeling of Seth’s leaky tip rubbing between your legs, brushing your entrance. You flinched, moaning as he pushed himself in, the stretch ached as you struggled to get used to his size. Seth was smaller than Al but he had much more girth than him. After a moment of making sure you were comfortable, he pulled out only to slam back into you, falling into a fast paced rhythm. Alphonse quickly followed, using your hair as leeway to thrust into your mouth. As Seth rammed into your sweet spot, it was getting harder to think. You were moaning out fragments of an apology that were muffled by Al’s cock in your mouth. The tears that had rimmed your eyes began to fall, trailing down your flushed out face. Alphonse pulled out for a moment to let you catch your breath as Seth repositioned himself, you opened your mouth to tell them how sorry you were but you never got the chance. He slammed back into you but this time he hit that one spot that had your toes curling and your vision going white. The tightness that had begun to form in your stomach snapped, your orgasm hitting you like a bus as you came all over his cock. Your brain was fuzzy as you tried to get your bearings, Alphonse gently pried your jaws open, his tip resting on your tongue as you sucked mindlessly. You thought Seth was finished but then his hips moved, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you. The thrust caused you to jolt forward, turning you started to speak, “Just w-wait a secon-!” You were cut off as Al yanked your head back, slamming himself into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. Fresh tears poured down your face as your overstimulated wails were muffled. That tightness in your stomach was returning rapidly, your toes curled as your legs began to shake. You were choking on Al’s dick, spit running down your chin. Their thrusts were starting to become sloppy, falling out of sync with eachother.

Soon enough you hit your climax again, cumming with a broken moan as you felt warmth slide down your throat and the familiar feeling of being full washed over you. The room was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and soft sobs as you tried to regain your composure. Seth pulled out of you, leaning over to untie Al’s belt, rubbing your wrists where the skin had rubbed raw. You slumped down on the bed, exhaustion taking over you. Al ran his hands through your hair, soothing over any aches you had from the rough treatment from earlier. An arm slid under you and you were scooped up into the warm arms of your loving cowboy. You could hear Alphonse following the two of you into the bathroom as Seth turned on the faucet of the bath, letting it fill. Once the water had run warm, you were placed in the bathtub, sighing contently at the heat. There was a soft hand rubbing your arm, an attempt to get your attention. As you turned your head, you were met with soft blue eyes, “You okay, Boo? Did we go too rough?” Alphonse asked gently, rubbing circles into your skin. You shook your head no as Seth chuckled, “Sugar’s tough, they can take anything we throw at them.” He joked, helping wash your body, hands traveling over your tired limbs. “Sorry I entertained that loser,” You mumbled sheepishly, earning amused looks from the two of them. “It’s okay Boo, he’s got nothing on us.” Al said with a mischievous grin, lightly elbowing Seth. You smiled, letting the warmth of their love wash over you as you felt yourself drift off to sleep in the tub, they’d carry you later but for now they let you rest for the night.

~~~ Word count: 2,592

i wrote a essay, you’re welcome 😭

#bittersweet #yuurivoice #yuurivoice seth #yuurivoice alphonse #bittersweet yuurivoice #smut #bittersweet boys #this is what i’m doing with my life

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knickynoo · 6 months

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Back to the Future: The Animated Series, s02ep08 “A Verne by Any Other Name"

Previous episodes linked here.

In this episode: Marty gets slapped by famous novelist Jules Verne and then has a terrible trip back to the Old West, and Verne hangs out with his parents on the night he's going to be born.

Wow, I haven't covered an animated series episode since September since I was so preoccupied with Doctober. I've missed this bonkers little show.

We begin in Paris (it's really interesting how we're hardly ever in the lab anymore this season). Doc is wearing a phenomenal floral-print Hawaiian shirt and talking about how much he loves visiting France.

He's taking a picture of Clara in that first one, btw. She's up in the Eiffel Tower :)

As usual, his trip has a connection to the plot in the cartoon portion of the show, and he leads us into it by mentioning that Marty and Verne once took a trip to France as well...

The cartoon opens up at Hill Valley Elementary school, where Verne is hiding out on the playground, waiting for everyone else to return to their classes before venturing inside. The reason? He's being teased by his classmates because of his name. While sneaking through the empty hallway, he's stopped by Biff Jr. and another classmate who appeared in a past ep but whose name I can't remember.

They call him "Verne the Worm" and "La-Verne," and then try to block his path down the hall.

When Verne gets home later, he immediately announces to his parents that he doesn't like his name. After failing to convince Verne that it's an honor to be named after such a great science fiction writer, Clara whispers to Verne that she wanted to name him after her uncle, but Doc won the coin toss, lol. And I just cannot get over the image of Doc and Clara settling on Verne's name via a coin flip. Ridiculous.

But you know what's more ridiculous?? What else is happening in the scene while Verne is talking to his parents:

That giant yellow thing behind Doc and Verne is CORN ON THE COB. Doc has created "super growth mondo corn." Because. Idk, we're not given a reason. And the thing on the left is a gigantic piece of popcorn that Doc made using just one singular kernel. When he calls to Clara that they're going to need a lot of butter, she drives into the workshop towing an equally large stick of butter.

This show is. It's a lot to process sometimes. Things like this just happen, and I have to go, "Sure, why not?" and keep watching.

Anyway, we cut to a new scene where bad decisions are being made. Verne has recruited Marty's help in dealing with his problem, and the plan is to go back in time and convince Jules Verne to change his own name. Even Marty thinks this is a silly idea, which is saying a lot.

Verne informs Marty that he's crucial to the plan because Marty speaks fluent French. Oohh, that's an interesting little tidbit, right? Except, no it isn't because, as Marty is quick to point out, he doesn't speak French; he's taking a French class. And he's failing it.

Upon arriving in Paris and tracking down where Jules Verne lives, Marty and Verne are very happy to discover that he speaks English. They exchange high-fives.

I have my criticisms of Cartoon Marty, but I do love his relationship with Verne a whole lot. They're such buddies.

Marty's list of friends:

His girlfriend (sometimes. Jen is angry at him a lot in the cartoon)

An old man

An eight-year-old

Posing as "Nerdy Names Anonymous," the boys tell Jules that they can help him pick out a new and cooler name. Verne offers a few suggestions: Hammer, Raphael, and Bart Simpson. To really drill in the point that Jules Verne is a bad name, Verne sings one of the taunting songs he's heard at school. Jules then slaps Marty in the face. When Marty points out that he wasn't the one singing the song, Jules says "A French man does not slap a child." He then slams the door in their faces.

Later on, Jules Verne is enjoying a meal at a cafe. Marty and Verne pose as waiters, and upon him telling them his name, Verne says, "What a doofus name. Why don't you change it?" J.V. responds to this by slapping Marty again. After a final failed attempt later in the evening, Verne decides it's time for Plan B.

The guys are heading to the Old West! Verne's new plan is to go directly to his parents and convince them to pick a different name for their second son.

And look! Look who we see! It's baby Jules!

While Marty goes to hide the DeLorean (he crashes it into some trees) Verne approaches the house. Just as the door opens, one of Doc's inventions goes haywire (because of course it does) and FLINGS Jules OUT OF THE CABIN. Verne manages to catch and save him just in time, and—after giving their thanks—Doc and Clara soon realize that Jules seems to love Verne. They invite their mysterious newcomer into the house.

And like. He introduces himself as Verne, and Doc and Clara don't bat an eye?? They don't even make a passing comment of, "Oh, that's interesting; our son's name is Jules, and we both love Jules Verne."

Anyway, I can't get over baby Jules. He's building a model of the Eiffel Tower. He is an INFANT.

Meanwhile, while all this is going on, Marty is stuck in the DeLorean on top of several very tall trees. His only way to get down is to jump, and after hitting the ground, he falls down an embankment, gets rolled into a giant snowball as he tumbles around, is then approached by an angry bear, and—in his attempt to get away—ends up running right into a tree. Typical day for Marty McFly.

ALSO! I just realized that this scene gives great insight into the amount of snow Hill Valley gets! (featuring Marty: the human snowball)

I'd been wondering how much snow they got. This could be helpful information for a future fic.

Back at the cabin, Clara is telling Verne all about the new baby she's going to have soon. She says the baby will be named Florence if it's a girl or Jehoshaphat (after her uncle) if it's a boy.

Verne is not pleased by this alternative name.

Doc steps in to remind Clara that he wants to name the baby Galileo, which Verne is also horrified to hear.

Doc and Clara then get into a full on fight over their inability to agree on a name, and it ends with Clara shouting, "Get out of my house you big eyebrowed slave to science!" They both then slam lots of doors, and Doc storms out.

??? Huh???? What is happening? Who decided that it was in-character for Doc and Clara to scream at each other like this? I don't like it!!

Clara then goes into labor, and tells Verne that he has to go into town to find the doctor and bring him to the cabin. Verne goes out into the horrific blizzard conditions.

It's up to the top of his head in that first pic. That is like four feet of snow!!

Using some ingenuity, Verne crafts a little snowplow and manages to brave the piles of snow all around. He locates Doc and the doctor, and leads them both back to the cabin.

We also return to Marty, who is continuing to have a great day.

The bear then shakes the tree, and the DeLorean (which is still stuck up there) falls directly onto Marty.

A short while later, Verne has the very odd experience of being at his own birth.

After tentatively asking if they're going to name the baby Jehoshaphat, Clara says that she and Doc have decided to name their new son after a brave young man: Verne.

And with that, Verne is now named after himself.

So. So though Verne was previously named after Jules Verne, his being named Verne now has nothing to do with that.

Verne and Marty (who is remarkably unscathed by his visit back to the Old West) return to the present day, where Verne now has a newfound appreciation for his name. End of cartoon.

Back in Paris with Real Doc, he informs us that he's going to read the entirety of "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea" out loud.

Unfortunately, he only gets a few words into the novel before a miniature hot air balloon interrupts his story.

The basket contains a note from Clara, informing Doc that he's out of time, and it's time to end his little science broadcast. He tells us to go check the book out at the local library and sends us off with his phrase that ends every episode, "See you in the future!"

Weird episode. Very weird episode. I don't like how Doc and Clara got so mean with each other and the fact that Doc WALKED OUT on his wife who was mere hours away from giving birth. That is not my Doc and Clara. Wish we could have had a super extended edition of the episode where Christopher Lloyd did read the whole 20,000 Leagues novel to us. That would have been nice, I think.

Also, what was with that gigantic cob of corn from the beginning of the episode?? It never came back into play at any other point. There was zero reason for that scene to happen. Cartoon Doc has problems.

Join me next time as the Brown family gets run out of town because Doc can't stop causing chaos.

#back to the future #bttf #bttf: the animated series

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notafraidofredyellowandblue · 6 months

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OOR 2005 - Nr 10 - Rammstein interview

Rammstein - tired of controversy

Until Reise, Reise (2004), Rammstein was the personification of everything that was scary and dangerous. The prince of darkness. If you look closer now, you will see a band that one can laugh with. With Rosenrot, Rammstein blows away the last shreds of fog and shows a band that is not only absurd but also human.

by Philippus Zandstra

Paris was chosen for Rosenrot to receive the European press. The Sonne is shining and it is sweltering on that Wednesday in September. Colleagues gather near the Eiffel Tower on a tour boat. The program is simple: first a listening session, then the interviews. The band members themselves are not on board, they are roleplaying Seemann on a party ship elsewhere. On the upper deck everyone is presented with a sealed and numbered disc man with Rosenrot. Inquiries reveal that we are not allowed to keep it. Fortunately, there is no body search, as was the case with Reise Reise. Only the bags must be left at the entrance. Just sign a contract that no one will distribute the interview recordings of Rammstein GbR and then let's go with that new album.

The first impressions: Spring (slow, Type O Negative choir), Feuer Und Wasser (acoustic, thin keyboards with sudden walls of guitar) and the rippling Ein Lied are ballad-like songs, in which pounding guitars have made way for electronics and the music is even more Reise, Reise seems to breathe. Then there are the grooving hymns: the first single Benzin, the esoteric (pan flute!) Wer Bist Du and Zerstören (with mosque singing in the intro). Zerstören is above all fast, chaotic and has a tender delivery from singer Till Lindemann at the end. Quite confusing. This also applies to Te Quiero Puta: a hilarious song in Spanish, decorated with kitschy Mexican sounds. Here I even note groove twice. The machismo of yesteryear haunts Mann Gegen Mann. With a big wink, because the text is about a desperate homosexual. A strong male choir sings to us, led by Lindemann, who shouts like a man possessed, 'Schwulle!' (faggot). Ironclad is the title track. The drum beat is the same as in Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes and the song also has a swinging bass loop. Yet it remains unmistakably Rammstein. Potential hit. Great album, at first glance.

Past the Pont Alexandre III, Rammstein waits for the press. A Chinese wedding couple has their photo taken on the quay near a stone staircase. Virgin white, while Rammstein waits twenty meters away. You immediately think of Heirate MIch. Not that the couple even realizes it themselves, but still.

When the interview can start on the boat, drummer Christoph Schneider walks along the railing with singer Till Lindemann. The two have an animated conversation in which Lindemann in particular emphasizes his words with many gestures. It is clear that Rammstein (more specifically: Schneider) is not nearly as scary as everyone wants to believe. The drummer looks nothing like the Tarantino criminal (Du Hast), white-eyed bank robber (Ich Will) and transvestite (Mein Teil) from the clips, nor the pyromaniac from the live shows. And no, even the fat, saturated jerry from Keine Lust does not qualify. Schneider looks rather relaxed, friendly even in his army green T-shirt and trendy camouflage pants with slippers. Sometimes he mumbles a bit under his breath when he tells his story in a soft voice in English (!). It suggests shyness, but also thoughtfulness.

Is that you who plays the trumpet in Benzin?

Laughing: "No, although I did play the trumpet in my childhood. I can no longer handle such pieces. Far too difficult, we hired an ensemble for that. Nowadays I can only play ten minutes, then I'm completely exhausted. My condition is really bad. I should play daily, because mainly your lips hurt."

Is the song Rosenrot Rammstein's Seven Nation Army?

Hesitantly: "A little bit, yes. There are similarities. I think it was also composed at the time that The White Stripes became famous. Call it a secret homage, haha!"

Are you a fan of The White Stripes?

"Certainly especially live. They don't care about anything." Makes a dismissive gesture. "When Jack White does a solo, his rhythm parts just disappear. He just can't play everything at the same time, and that's what's so cool about The White Stripes."

Is that simple also something you aspire to?

Thinks for a long time: "Hmm... yes. I can imagine that I will someday start another project. Just do something different. Rammstein has a limited... no, I wouldn't say that, Rammstein has chosen a clear direction and that direction is determined by six different people. Sometimes this limits your freedom of movement and you don't get anywhere. However, it is good for this band, we feel comfortable with it."

Overall I get the feeling that Rosenrot is a lot more melancholic and also a lot less riff-oriented.

"That's right, we threw the old approach overboard some time ago, right after Mutter. We couldn't find anything new in that style of machine rhythms, electronics and riffs. In the end you had all those riffs, just like the song structure of the first albums. It no longer interested us."

Do you feel like Rosenrot is more consistent? Ultimately, these are leftovers from the experimental Reise, Reise.

"These are not leftovers, but good songs that just didn't fit on Reise, Reise. Many songs had the same character. There were three ballads and you don't put them on one CD. Two albums seemed the most logical thing to do."

Rosenrot does indeed come out surprisingly quickly.

"We only had to write five or six new songs: Benzin, Mann gegen Mann, Spring, Te Quiero Puta and another pop song that was not presented at the listening session. I don't believe the new songs are very different from those of Reise, Reise. There isn't much time between these two albums. If you wait and leave songs on the shelf for too long, you lose the feeling. Maybe you no longer like them or they belong to a different time. Te Quiero Puta is of course very different... That song would stand out on any CD of ours."

Whose idea was that anyway?

"Till, even though the song was an instrumental for a while that the band was crazy about. We pushed Till if he could please write a lyric. For us it was a very important song; nice and loud and fast. However, he could never come up with anything appropriate, even gave up hope. Only at the end did Till suddenly come up with a Spanish text."

What in heaven's name is it about?

Schneider laughs in amusement. "Just ask Till..."

However, the colossus that appeared early last year in a children's film (Amundsen der Penguin) is not around. Afterwards it turns out that Te Quiero Puta means 'I love you, whore'. It figures... Another song that raises some questions is Mann Gegen Mann. The archetypal macho Lindemann takes on the role of a latent homosexual.

Another typical figment of Till's imagination?

Laughing: "I can easily say yes. In the end, we have already described every form of love. I think it was time that we had to discuss such a topic. Now you can of course ask me if we are all gay.."

I was more wondering about your popularity within the gay scene.

Giggly: "No idea. Really. I don't think those guys listen to Rammstein, maybe some." Thinks briefly: "And then, gay scene? What is actually a gay scene? A few people who meet in a basement and play some S&M games? No idea. I think there are many clubs within that world with house music. music. That's probably it: house."

Rammstein is also not averse to leather, judging by the last shows.

"None of us are homosexual. But the lyrics of Mann Gegen Mann do take an interesting approach. It puts a whole new perspective on the song - I've never thought about it that way anyway. I mean, Till also came up with a song about hermaphrodites. He did point out a few intriguing things."

We prefer to leave such excesses to Midas Dekkers 1). Yet it points to something new within Rammstein: freedom. Where previously hermaphrodites and poems with blues chords did not fit within the original - read: democratic - concept, the band is now allowed to do more. Especially at their own request. Because things almost went wrong where more democracies get stuck: with the dictatorship of the majority.

During the recording of Mutter, the band's democracy turned out to be a nuisance.

"It has been that way from the beginning: everyone has the same rights and obligations. There is no leader in the band or someone whose voice carries more weight because he does more. When we started we felt that it was possible to work together in this way. practice room to write songs. Somehow, however, that balance shifted, causing certain people... [turns to the side] to become so unmanageable that we had major arguments. Some members even placed themselves completely outside of it; it didn't matter anyway. power struggles within the band were just too bad."

It was mainly between guitarists Paul [Landers] and Richard [Kruspe-Bernstein], I understand.

"No, Paul was not the problem. Actually it was only about Richard, he wanted to control the direction of the band. Tried to make all the decisions, bring his ideas to everything. Richard was no longer open to changes. He came with an enormous amount of material and wanted to push everything through. In the end, no one listened to his ideas anymore. Not even to hear whether they were good or bad. No, Richard's ideas were shot down in advance because they came from Richard."

You've never had the urge to take control?

"Everyone within Rammstein has that potential to a certain extent, which is very difficult. You may come up with something, develop it and then deliver it. But yes, then the rest will hear about it... You have two people who say that your idea is nice and two who don't like it at all. Then they try to change your idea so that they also like it. During that process you notice that the original concept becomes less and less recognizable. You lose it. But that's just Rammstein. And that is part of this attitude. It is easier for some than for others. The fact that we are a unit is good, everyone feels good about that. At least, for eighty percent of what we do."

You always look very calm on stage amid all the chaos, and the calm way in which you now tell your story gives the impression that you are the stabilizing factor within Rammstein. The cement, so to speak.

"I see myself as someone who always monitors harmony. I can agree with that cement; ultimately I am the drummer who holds everything together. On a personal level, I try to understand all the extremes within the band. Sometimes opinions vary so far that some members can't make a decision or talk to each other at all. Because I understand both sides, that can sometimes help, I'm a harmonizer, haha!"

Strange contradiction actually: a band from the authoritarian GDR tries to be a true democracy, only to distance itself from that concept a few years later. You start to wonder whether the six are nostalgic for the past. Or as they say in Germany: Ostalgie. The main exponent of that feeling is the 2003 film Goodbye Lenin, which is set shortly after the reunification. Main character Alexander is stuck with his mother, who has woken up from a coma. While she was in the hospital, the reunification between East and West took place, but due to a weak heart she was not allowed to know anything about the upheaval. So Alexander and his family allow the GDR to return to their apartment. The film was a great success in Germany. Schneider naturally agrees that he too has seen Goodbye Lenin. He is surprised when it turns out that the film was also a modest hit in the Netherlands. "First of all, it is a very interesting idea that that woman still believes in East Berlin and the entire GDR. And that everyone around her really does their best to keep it that way, as a kind of protection. "

Is the fantasy they perpetuate, the GDR, what makes it so strong?

"Absolutely not. I don't look back. It took a very long time to accommodate all those rapid changes of that time. It is interesting that we grew up under communism and therefore consciously experienced those changes. For me, the Wall collapsed at the right time. I was 24 and still had every opportunity to participate in everything."

Do you recognize something in Alexander from Goodbye Lenin? A twenty-something who suddenly has the right to make all kinds of new choices?

"Absolutely. In the beginning there was a lot of skepticism in the East. It wasn't that bad there. In private there was almost no difference with the West. You had food, work, friends, fell in love. You simply didn't think about politics The only thing we experienced as a shortcoming was the travel restrictions. You could go to one of those other communist countries, which we did, but real travel was not an option. As someone said: half the world is not for you. Strange, right? What kind of freedom is that? Anyway, our generation was born behind the Wall. That Wall was a given, something permanent. That would never change. In retrospect, the Wall only stood for 28 years. That's not too bad. However, for my generation it was an eternity."

Is living in a capitalist system confusing to you?

"It was, yes. But the nineties in Berlin... [raises his hands to the sky, a small smile appearing on his face] the most spectacular time of my life! I'm glad I could be there I was a young guy and I experienced everything firsthand. It was chaotic, anarchy! You could do whatever you wanted. Suddenly you were allowed to buy a house, start a club, even have a practice room."

Last year I was in Berlin and I noticed that many old communist buildings are rapidly being demolished for new offices.

"I prefer to look at that development as a whole. Berlin has a history that cannot be compared to any other city in the world. Due to the division, two different cities have developed, each with its own center. Everything in Berlin you have twice. Before the war, Potsdammerplatz was the center with many cinemas, but everything had to be flattened because of the Wall. When you see that Potsdammerplatz is being built up again with modern, Western architecture, then I don't mind. good for Berlin, the city needs a modern touch. Some parts are still really provincial."

Schneider sounds optimistic and is happy with the 'good energy' in the city. When you hear him speak like this, there seems no reason to doubt the good intentions of his band. Yet Rammstein is often labeled as 'wrong' and 'scary'. Something they are slowly getting fed up with. As Ossies, they already have appearances against them. Reports about neo-Nazis rearing their bald heads in the former GDR regularly seep through to the outside world.

Nowadays there is a growing trend towards National Socialism within the old GDR...

Schneider cuts off the question to give an immediate answer: "I don't know what the situation is now, but when Rammstein was still playing in small villages and clubs in the east, I saw a lot of scary things happening. Nowadays I don't go that often to the province anymore, so I don't really have a good idea of the situation. I think it is even becoming quieter and more relaxed. After the communist era, with all its bans, there was a tendency to be as anti as possible. Don't forget that there are many unemployed and social problems. To attract attention, many young people identify with that world. It is very shameful that something like this happens in Germany, of all places. Nobody wants other countries to see it either. Europe has been keeping a close eye on Germany since the reunification. Can we do it alone, without control by the rest?"

Do those people need an ideology to justify their existence? From communism to national socialism, to get a better grip on the new reality?

"They have to be kept happy, that's it. Prosperity, a job, at least help from society. Education is also a major problem. Since the end of the war we have had a very anti-authoritarian school system. Look, children can be free in what they do, and they should develop without a strict government. But I think now it is a bit too much of a good thing. And that is where the roots of that whole development lie."

You are apolitical, but have you never felt the need to make a statement as a band?

"Well, we have regularly been accused of Nazism. Completely ridiculous. We have never made a statement to that effect, nor do we wish to associate ourselves with those people. Unfortunately, the fact is that if you make loud music in Germany, you are immediately the right corner is pressed [sigh]. When we started, we were looking for our own sound, a German sound. We had to look at ourselves, who were we? But also: where was our history? Rammstein was the logical consequence. So not a preconceived plan and certainly not the idea of: come, let's sound like a Nazi band!"

It is precisely this Teutonic element that has earned Rammstein the necessary (negative publicity) in combination with the terrifying shows. In fact, Schneider is still very outspoken about the alleged link with the right. The conversation thus turns to the disgust that Rammstein evokes in many. Fear, the trauma of war, but also the music itself. When Peter Pan Speedrock was allowed to play as a support act in a full Gelredome in 2003, the people of Eindhoven thanked them for the job. Schneider doesn't mind, he's used to it. Because German bands also regularly refuse to open for them. In fact, they hate Rammstein.

Do you really not think that's a shame?

"Oh well, Rammstein is polarizing. We do extreme things that are certainly not mainstream. This band is not for everyone. You either love us or you hate us. I don't even know if I would like Rammstein if I didn't play in it... We are who we are, and you can't change that."

There is still that label of Nazi band attached to you, despite the fact that you have become more and more humorous?

"That humor has always been there, but in the beginning everyone thought we were scary, so the humor was not noticeable. By the way, that is a typical German problem. [Behind the sunglasses, his eyes dart back and forth, Schneider searches for the right words.] There have been many generations that wanted to be anything but German. Just look at the music, everyone sang in English and modeled themselves on British or American bands."

The Scorpions!

"They even did very well, but...[The gentleman from the label comes over, making a cutting gesture. However, Schneider wants nothing to do with it and insists that he finish the answer. Excitedly, he continues his story.] When Rammstein started it was time for us Germans to find ourselves again. We cannot be burdened with guilt and shame forever. Sometimes it seems as if we as Germans do not exist."

Does Rammstein give Germany some self-confidence?

"Something like that, yes. I'm not saying that Rammstein is the only example of what modern German rock music should sound like. There are far too many new rock groups for that, and they sing in German, even within hip-hop. You can feel that in many things Germany is now putting the past behind it and throwing off its shyness. Our generation is not to blame. The fact remains that this Germany has a questionable history that everyone really needs to know everything about. That should never be forgotten. The weight of history , the debt, however, prevents us from moving forward. We are not free. Always considering whether something is politically correct or not, that limits you and it is therefore a major problem in Germany. Everyone looks out for each other. It is downright short-sighted to say whether or not someone is politically correct. We just do what comes to mind. Sometimes that is provocative, but it also helps to find yourself."

So you also feel proud to be German?

Shaking his head: "For an American that's probably very easy to say. I rather think that every country should have its own identity. What is home, where do you come from, what is your mentality? It's a difficult process, but I think we have done something in that direction."

1) Midas Dekkers is a famous dutch biologist, also presenter of tv programs and author on the topic.

List of other Rammstein OOR interviews

#rammstein #rammstein OOR interviews #christoph schneider

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