The Marauders and friends are busying themselves with birthday preparations for a very special person. The boys sit in their dormitory, last minute plotting and planning session in full swing, led by one entirely too eager individual.
Blackmail (Patrick Hockstetter x reader x Henry Bowers)
Request: “Hey! I saw you take requests, and it’s amazing because I love your writings, and I was wondering if you could write one with Patrick and/or Henry and a very shy and quiet reader, where basically they back into her house (for a bet or something) and find like sexy clothes and decide to tease and blackmail her because of this. I hope you understand what I mean, English is not my first language so I hope I didn’t make a mess😂” ~ Anonymous
I love this!✌❤
A/N: Yes! Tits true! My inbox is open! Though I’m a little more picky with what I write than last time, you can ask whatever you want as many times as you want. Know that it means a lot to me that you guys like my writing! The sweet encouraging things you guys drop in my inbox litterally give me life! So please, your requests and feedback keep me goin’! ❤
Warnings: NSFW, blackmail, threeway, sex, rough sex, Pat x Hen stuff, Patrick’s pan ass, etc, etc, ETC! LETS ROCK N’ ROLL!🤘
You stared down at the blue plastic tray that sat before you. Riddled with slop, goo, and what barley passed as a piece of bread. Derry High being a public school, what were you expecting? Every week day at lunch you had to swallow your pride and what the lunch lady called ‘pea soup’ all alone in the back of the lunch room.
But latley, lunch was getting more and more interesting. And by interesting I mean, down right annoying. This small group of boys that sat a table away from you had started to pay attention to you. You hate attention. You sit in the back of the lunch room, back of the classroom, you spend P.E. class on the benches, you faced being sick one day so you didn’t have to present a paper to the class. You have this general, ‘I don’t exist’ vibe, and you like it that way. No one talks to you, no one picks on you, and you would have rather kept it that way.
But those boys had somehow found you an interesting target as of late. You don’t know what triggered it, what made them look at you. But they wouldn’t stop starring, talking to one another and then cackling like crows before looking back at you. It made you anxious and sweaty when they looked at you. Like they were planning something. Plotting. And today they took action.
It was a particularly hot spring day, and you were forced to wear a shirt that perhaps wasn’t as appropriate as you would have liked. For the first time, the girls were out to play in the wild. And the boys took notice. You’re not sure who threw the first shot, but suddenly you felt a scratchy little thing fall down your shirt. You looked down, and found a piece if popcorn sitting happily atop your breasts. You barley had time to remove it before another fell in. Farther this time. You hissed and tugged at the bottom of your shirt so it would drop out. The third hit you in the nose, and then you heard them burdt into laughter. You looked up at the four, Reginald Huggins, Victor Criss, Patrick Hockstetter, and an infamous Henry Bowers sat at the table in front of yours. Laughing like maniacs. It made you red in the face. Almost as red as Reggie’s who tried his best not to look, but still his large shoulders bounced as he chuckled. Vic’s hand shook Reggie as he laughed through the other hand that covered his mouth. Those two trying not to make too much of a scene. The other two however, didn’t give a fuck. The lankiest, limbs flying through the air as he cackled himself to the point of falling out of his seat and falling onto the disgusting yellow tile. He made people stare. And Henry just sat tall and let out a harty laugh.
You starred at them for a moment in disbelief. Then came the anxiety attack that tore through your body. Forcing ribbons of tears to fall from your eyes. People were starring at you. All the eyes, all the attention. You bolted out of the room to hide in the bathroom till your next class before you could go home. You walkes home with red eyes and a tight frown you held as the event still played through your brain and gave you the shivers. Never again would you wear that shirt. You were burning it as soon as you got home.
Of course you didn’t really burn it. You threw it in the hamper and changed into a baggy T-shirt to match the way you felt. You felt like crawling into bed and hidding away. But the world wouldn’t let you. You were shaken by the loud chime of your doorbell. You made your way to the front door with a confused look on your face. You unlocked the door and peeked from the crack you opened to look at the guests on your front porch. Your heart painfully leaped out of your chest and you used all your might to try and close it. But a sturdy hand firmly planted itself, and pushed so you couldnt.
“Aw, c’mon kid. Don’t be like that.” A naisally voice cooed.
“We just came to apologize for our little…joke at lunch today.” Henry pushed the door open further, there was no use in you fighting.
“H-How did you know where I live?” You quivered as Patrick slinked past you and into the entryway.
“Doesn’t matter.” He muttered.
“Your parents home?”
“No- But you can’t- hey- I said-” You tried to argue but they came in anyways.
“Nice place, Y/N.” Henry commented as he looked around, as Patrick started to climb the stairs. Wait, your room was up there. He can’t see your room. They can’t see whats in your room.
“Hey!” You shouted at Patrick who paused. His head slowly turned to look down at you standing there by the now closed front door. “You can’t be up there!” You warned him. He looked back down the hallway upstairs, then back at you.
“Why? Whats up here?” His smile reached from ear to pierced ear. Oh shit.
“Nothing, its just, my parent’s room is-”
“Oh, but we’re not interested in your parents room.” Henry chuckled at Patrick’s retort before they both made their way there. You managed a few weak words of protest as you rushed to follow them. You started to panic as they made their to your room, and opened the door.
“Lets see, what do we have here?” Henry asked himself as he first made his way to your dresser. Oh no. Oh no no no! You lunged for the dresser but you were too late. “O-hohooo!!” Henry reached in with his fingers and let the pefectly layed out fabric glide across his rough skin.
“Oh shit! I knew it!” Patrick looked into the drawer, both of them grinning like absolute idiots. Your heart raced. “I told you she was a freak!” Patrick nudged Henry as he held up a particularly prized piece of yours. A very lacy, very white and very revealing bra.
“Takes one to know one!” Henry insulted him, but neither truly cared. Too wrapped up in the discovery. You’d have thought they’d found a pirates treasure to way they handled the tiny pieces of fabric. You had a thing for pretty underwear. It was something of a self-esteem bust, even in your social crippled world, like any other it made you feel pretty. It was for you. Even the black one with all the tight straps and the underwear that was practically string. This was your little secret. Was.
“Put this one on!” Patrick demanded with a goofy grin as he turned to you.
“W-What? No!” You denied. It caught Henry’s attention.
“I bet she’s wearing one right now.” He cooed. They turned away from the dresser and started to advance.
“Get away from me!” You shouted as you backed up. You tried to run, but Henry grabbed your arms and held you there.
“We’ll make you a deal hot stuff. You give us a little show, and no one has to know about this.” They smiled at you with cruel, knowing grins. “And if you don’t, and you kick us out. Everyone will know about your dirty little secret. How you dress like a little slut under all that.”
“False modesty.” Patrick added. Your chest heaved as you thought for a moment. A little too long before Henry’s fingers loosened and they began walking past you.
“Have it your way. Guess you better get used to all the new attention at school, slut.”
“Wait!” You cried in a panic. They turned back to you with knowing smiles. You swallowed hard. “What…did you want to see?” You said with practically a whisper. They laughed.
“Atta girl.” They walked back into the room, and closed your bedroom door behind you. You barley had time to say a word before Patrick reached down and practically threw your clothes off of you. He smiled, pressing his front to your now semi-bare back as he looked down at your underwear. “Look at that. Pink.” He chuckled above you. You cowered under him as he practically inspected your form. You felt the pricking of denim on your lower back, above your butt.
“It’s alright I guess.” Henry shrugged it off. “I want to see her in this.” He threw a bright ruby red piece onto your bed. Patrick grunted with approval. You reached for it, and hid in your small walk-in closet to change. When you came out in a basic red bra and panty decorated with lace and hearts, you found the boys patiently sitting on your bed. Their eyes lit up with curiousity, and lust when they saw you. You could have sworn that Henry nearly creamed his pants the way he looked at you. Patrick didn’t seem too impressed, though his eyes didn’t look away. The adrenaline rush you got from this. It was a little, nice. You started to feel a little, good. And the way they looked at your body, the end all be all of that moment. It made you a little more confident.
“This one.” Patrick threw a one piece at you. A complicated piece to put on with straps, and sheer fabric. It was borderline bdsm. It barley covered what it needed to. You stepped out, and found both intriged but not satisfied.
“What? You don’t like it?” You asked nervously.
“Why? You want us to like it?” Henry probbed with a cruel grin. You shrugged. The next one, was something you didn’t wear very often, simply out of fear that you’d ruin it. The white piece Patrick first layed eyes on but Henry didn’t look too excited for. Of course, the restricted bulges in their worn jeans said otherwise. When you opened the door, you watched as Henry shifted uncomfortably in his seat on your bed. All eyes were on you, no one said a word. You couldn’t help but smile coyly.
“This ones my favorite.” You admitted as you rocked your body from side to side playfully. Finally Patrick smiled and stood.
“Mine too.” He cooed, his lithe fingers reaching for some loose fabric and grazing his skin against to feel it. His hot heavy breath crashing into your neck as he loomed over you, getting closer and closer. He inspected your body in the garment with those inquisitive eyes. Henry grew more and more hot headed as Patrick started to touch your bare flesh. Gliding his knuckles against your shoulder, back, belly, thighs, anywhere, teasingly. Egging Henry on to say or do something. “What do you think Henry? I’d like to see the blue one on next-”
“I don’t want to see anymore of that shit!” He barked. Patrick just looked at him and smiled. “I want a different show.” He told you as he stood and sauntered closer to you. Your cheeks went red.
“Different?” You asked, knowing damn well what he meant but being too damn scared to admit it.
“I want more.” He growled as his hand reached out and firmly pressed against your hip.
“Hey, I was here first.” Patrick told him, faking jealousy.
“Fuck off.” He told him as he leaned in to kiss you. Henry’s lips were shockingly soft, and the kiss was surprisingly sweet. Even as it heated up, he was gentle and conservative. He made you moan into his lips. When he pulled away, he latched onto you neck and pulled you close by your hips. Suddenly you felt pressure on your back, and long fingers forced your face up. Patrick kissed you from above and Henry felt you up. Patrick’s kisses were more liberal, passionate, and spiced. His touch was more gentle than Henry’s were. He was more patient, Henry was needy.
Henry made a fustrated grunt when he couldn’t get your bra off, he sounded almost like an angry child. You went to remove it yours, but Patrick beat you to it. He tossed it to the side and got the first grope. From behind, he reached from underneath and held them tightly. Rubbing in circles as he pinched at your nipples. He chuckled into your neck when you made a soft squeak. Once he let go, Henry took a turn roughly groping and sucking as he pleased. Patrick rubbed his clothed crotch against your as. Grinding up against you, forcing you to likewise grind into Henry. Who’s erection was getting painful with excitement.
“I want her first.” Henry growled after another needy kiss as he started undressing himself in a hurry. Patrick held your half naked body and rocked you from side to side with affection. You leaned back into him with your eyes closed. Your brain completely fogged over with lust.
“You said we had to take turns?” Patrick chuckled.
“Me, I did.” Henry barked at him. “I don’t want your dick in my way. This was my idea anyway!” He pulled you away from Patrick, and glared at him as he took you in his arms. He began kissing and loving on you as he took you to your bed. He had you get on the bed and bend over doggy stile. He pulled down your damp panties and he let out a satisfied sigh of approval before he rubbed his tip against you. You heard him shutter as he entered you. Your jaw dropped and your mouth hung open as he began fucking you. The feeling ran over your body in a pleasurable warmth. Patrick took the opportunity. He undressed himself, and was stroking himself as he walked over to the other side of the bed. He ran his fingers through your hair before he pulled your forward so his tip slipped between your lips.
“Good girl.” He forced your head to bob up and down on his cock as Henry rammed you from behind. Your eyes practically rolled back inside your head as you sucked Patrick’s big cock. You couldn’t make it to his base. Suddenly you felt yourself grow weaker, yet stronger? The strange sensation of a building orgasm as you were rocked between two worlds. You let out helpless sounds of pleasure as you were tossed back and forth. You let out an almost angry and fustrated grunt when Henry came before you. Having tired himself out, he passed out on your bed beside you. Leaving you unsatisfied. “That bastard.” Patrick grunted, pulling his cock out of your mouth and walking around the bed. You gasped as you felt him enter you. “I’ll give you what you need, baby.” He held onto your hips and began thrusting. Deeper, harder, and you were already so close, it kept building.
“F-Fuuuuuuck” you moaned as you gripped onto your bed sheets.
“Haha thats it. Cum for me Y/N.” He called to you as he fucked you, relentlessly. He had you practically screaming as you came around his cock. He let out a surprised huff as you shook under him. He came a few good thrusts after you. He panted over you as his hands let go of your hips, where he left small marks from holding onto you so hard. You panted with him, laying on your bed and taking a moment of rest. When you opened your eyes and looked up at Patrick, he was starring down at the passed out Henry. Patrick looked up at you and licked his lips before he reached over. He fondled Henry as he layed there.
“What are you doing?” You asked him.
“He may cum fast, but the fucker can reload quick.” You muffled a laugh, covering your mouth. You watched Henry as his head shifted and his face scrunched up. When Henry was completely up again, Patrick looked at you. “Watch this.” He knelt down by the bed and began licking Henry’s cock.
“Mmmhh” he moaned with his eyes still closed, still in a passed out daze. Patrick continued, to the point where he was sucking him completely. Taking him entirely. “Mmmhhh Y/N.” Henry moaned your name. You stiffled another laugh as you watched them. Until Henry let a struggled grunt, and a few daze hip thrusts later. Henry came into Patrick’s mouth. Once sure he was done, he pulled himself up. Keeping his mouth closed as he crawled onto the bed with you. Henry’s eyes fluttered open just in time to watch you. Patrick reached out and grabbed the back of your neck to pull you to a kiss. The residue of Henry’s orgasm on Patrick’s tongue going to you. You kissed Patrick back in the moment as he held you close to him.
From then on, you had new friends at school. The Bowers Gang were well acquainted with you, and shockingly they kept your little secret that turned dirty.
My mother’s guests’ son showed up wearing high-waisted black tights, a crop top, and body glitter. I have been desperately searching through my closet for my “GAY” NASA shirt because I do not wish to be so grandiosely out-gayed in my own home.
Did you out-gay him, son?
No. I can’t find my shirt!!!! This calls for desperate measures… time to break out the unseasonably warm Denim Jacket With Rainbows Pouring From The Nipples and High-Waisted Jeans.
It’s 8 PM and I wanted to change into my Data Star Trek Pajamas but those aren’t gay enough.
God dammit! Nowhe’s playing some kind of bubbly Carly Rae Whatshername pop. What do I do??? How do I relaliate….? Is Janelle Monae enough to save me? Joan Jett? Lads, I don’t think I’m gonna win this one.
Update: his mom inadvertently tipped the scale a little in my favor by saying, “Oh, nice jacket! Jake, come look at this jacket, you’ll love it!” and then I got to explain that I painted it myself:
I don’t think Janelle Monae helped much because the only songs of hers I have downloaded onto my phone are the ones about robots. I know robots are gay culture and all, but does he know that???
But then he pulled ahead of me by striking a pose in my dining room and I swear to god, his thigh muscles rippled like Glittery Gay Gaston. Ugh.
SCORE!!!! I switched to playing MIKA and moonwalked aggressively down the hallway and his own grandmother stepped out of the bathroom and said, “Oh, I thought you were Jake!”
Clearly she mistook my powerful gay energies for his, because we could not look more different.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Time to Sit In A Chair Funny.
You know what?
He wins. He’s out here living his best life while I gave up using dating apps because I wanted to divert my emotional energy into making YouTube skits about noir detectives who eat cigarettes.
Like ABBA said, the winner takes it all. I guess that means I’m straight now.
and first off, I’m 5’7, 5’11 in dance shoes, 170 pounds, broad shoulders and big hips and not small in any dimension. For a ballroom dancer, this means a lot of time spent learning the men’s parts. Especially in lifts.
I’ve had years now of guys kinda just going “lol heck naw” when told to lift me. I don’t admit this part much, but it makes me want to sink into the ground and die when every other girl can be lifted, but I’m just too big.
So this guy, smaller than me and really cute, shows up at auditions and I see this girl across the room getting tossed about like the beautiful pixie she is, and apparently I looked a little wistful because this boy asked me if I liked lifts.
“Oh. I… Uh… I’ve never really done the girls part. I’m a little big, haha…” (laugh it off, as usual.)
He looked me dead in the eye and then picked me up like a movie princess, bounced me in the air a few times, and set me down effortlessly while telling me whoever refused to lift me before was just being a lazy wimp.
I seriously doubt this boy will ever really get how much that meant to me. But, holy cow. Some faith in humanity just got restored.
@fleeceofsteel also commissioned a story I’ve been wanting to do from my list! A charming skeleton king.
One day your family receives a very strange visit. A woman comes by with an offer from her employer. He wants to marry you and he’s willing to pay your family a lot of money for the rest of their lives. Now, it would be a stupid offer to turn down. Your family has struggled and fought all their lives. The money would be a blessing, it would be an amazing gift. But they turned it down right away.
“My daughter isn’t marrying a stranger,” your father said. “Neither is she for sale.”
“But dad!” You gasp. “The money!”
“The money doesn’t add up if you’ve sold you to some creep,” he replies and turns back to the woman. “Now tell your employer if he wants to marry a girl he needs to go about the way that all men do.”
The woman sighs. “I’ll report back to him.”
The next day there is a letter in the mail commending your father as well as enough money to pay off your family’s debts. There is also a letter addressed solely to you. Inside, the man who wanted to buy you as a bride apologizes.
You’re in the fifth grade, and you’re going to a brand new school. You have one friend, a best friend, and he’s the only one that knows: what to expect at the new school, what you and your family are like, what you’re going to be learning. You feel an understandable loyalty to this boy, who needed a friend badly as well when you met him. Another group of boys, bullies so it appears, makes fun of your only friend en route to this new school, and then laughs at you as well when you try to defend him. You decide you don’t like them very much.
You’re a freshman in high school, still surrounded by all the same children you’ve known since age 11. You are still very close with your best friend, even though you worry about him a lot. He’s started getting involved with a gang, one who (by the way) racially opposes a demographic that happens to include you. He’s started getting mixed up with dangerous, illegal, and even cruel activity. You have other friends by this point, but you still feel a special loyalty to this one. You try to help him and talk to him rationally, but all he seems to want to talk about is the bad sides of everyone else, including that arrogant boy who has now been bullying him since age 11. He does not realize that he’s becoming a bully himself.
You’re a sophomore in high school now, age 15. It is the worst day of your best friend’s life. That boy, the “bully” that he hates, hates him right back. It’s been a long time coming, and the two boys butt heads again. The bully is bored and looking to entertain his friends- he picks a fight. It’s a stupid thing to do, really, but he’s 15 years old. Who isn’t proud and bored and stupid and filled with anger at age 15? The bully starts the fight, but your best friend aims to end it once and for all- he pulls a weapon, let’s say, maybe even a gun. Things he learned from that gang he’s begun to spend more time with. But you still love him, obviously, so you rush to defend him.
The bully calls you out in front of everyone, asks you on a date. By all means, it’s embarrassing and frankly a little insulting. It’s exam week, you’re stressed, and you’re angry. Everything your best friend had said about this bully was right- look how he thought he could get away with anything. You just want to help your best friend…but oh. Nevermind. Looks like he doesn’t need you as badly as he’d always said. All three of you are prideful and angry and running on adrenaline…but he’s the only one that calls you a name, something unforgivable that makes you realize that he’s actually had a foot on the other side of the line for longer than you thought. It’s far more embarrassing than the stuck-up rail-skinny bully asking you out as an ultimatum. It’s downright humiliating. It’s the day you lost your best friend. You decide that you hate both of them now.
And then, years pass. You’re 17, and people are dying all around you. There’s a war on, people are growing up way too fast. You haven’t reconciled with your best friend, but you do find yourself spending more time with that “bully”, through class or hall-patrols. You decide that you still don’t like him, more out of pride and principle than anything else. Because, really, has he ever been cruel to you a day in his life? Others maybe, but those aren’t exactly your battles. Not anymore.
And then, one day, you find out that his favorite color is blue. You realize that you never knew that before. You realize that you always saw him as this 2D “bully” based on what you heard and saw since you were in the 5th grade. And you realize that you aren’t in the 5th grade anymore. You’ve grown up, certainly, since then. Why is it so unreasonable to assume he may have too?
You find out that his best friend, that quiet, sarcastic boy that you’ve spent a lot of time with, is sick with something he’ll never recover from. You realize why this “bully” is so fiercely loyal to his friends, why he’s always trying so hard to lighten the mood.
You find out that his mother’s just passed away. You realize that the only reason he was so adored and had everything was because she worked to make it that way because he was the only son she had. And he was the only mother he had. And now he feels alone and dejected, and isn’t sure he even wants to have kids one day. But you realize that this would be a crime because he would make such a great father.
You tell him so. He points out that this is the first compliment you’ve ever allowed him, and you feel ashamed of yourself, somewhere in the pit of your stomach.
Because he’s a real person and this is the first real time you’ve spent getting to know him.
So you tell him about yourself, too. The real things, behind the looks and the significant color of your hair and the books you loved.
He apologizes for having such an out-there crush on you, but explains that he just knew you would be as fascinating as you seemed. You apologize for always keeping him at arms length; you see, you’d just heard and saw so much over the years that you’d blinked and missed the part where you stopped being angry, prideful teens, and became reasonable adults. You apologize for deciding he wouldn’t be fascinating before you even tried to find out. Because he was. Fascinating, that is.
And then one day he kisses you, all soft lips and nervous smiles. And he asks you out on a date. There are issues from the past that you aren’t quite ready to get over, broken friendships that you still blame him for. But you realize that there are things more important than pride. You realize that if you want to believe that you have grown and changed as a person, you should offer others the benefit of the doubt.
So you go out to dinner.
And you fall in love with that boy you thought was a bully.
And you get married, and fight for freedom side by side, and support each other, and become parents together, and build a life.
And one day, even though he knows he isn’t going to make it, that boy puts himself between you, your son, and danger, so that maybe you will. He gave up his life to make sure yours would go on for a little longer. He stands up to the real bullies of the world, the ones that are so entrenched in hate and cruelty that you can’t believe you ever gave your husband and these men the same title.
Because people are capable of growth and kindness. The ones that don’t bother with either are the real bullies of the world. And you wouldn’t have known that if you didn’t give this wonderful man a chance.
This story is the story, basically, of Lily Evans and James Potter. So the next time you rattle on about it being “unrealistic”, try putting yourself in their shoes. It’s a real-world applicable relationship that developed and grew over time. It’s, in my opinion, the most realistic relationship in the books. So maybe it’s time to stop relying on skewed flashbacks and start filling in the blanks.
WOAH I KINDA THOUGHT THIS WAS COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT BUT NO
A commission for @sinningpunk about their slime OC named Plur who is far too sweet for words. I hope you guys enjoy!
He’s pouting again. He says he’s not but he one hundred percent totally is. As soon as you woke up that morning he had been all over you. One of his constant moods. You should be used to it. His affection and his pouting, but he still has a way of affecting you and making you melt. Well, technically he’s the one who melts, but that isn’t the point.
Ever since you got Plur, you’re not sure who has who under their thumb. While yes, it seems in most situations you have the absolute control, you sometimes feel like the sneak manipulated the entire situation to his favor. That’s just him though, so sweet and innocent you have to believe there is some sliver of evil in him.
Pansexual Monster Girl 