#like they are always pulling in a different direction than we're walking | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cleoluvrr · 1 year ago

Text

fuck up the friendship (rafe cameron x reader)

SYNOPSIS: we're already six feet deep, let's cut the tension

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content

materlist

you entered the party space, the floor packed with people dancing to the music playing through the speakers. you grabbed another glass of water as you and rafe passed a refreshment table. the two of you stood at the back of the room, people watching and enjoying the music in a comfortable silence.

"so...you wanna go dance?" you said as you walked backwards onto the ballroom floor. rafe smiled softly, legs outstretching to follow after you.

rafe dragged you out to midsummers despite your pushback. he told you that it would be fun, but you already knew that he only wanted you to come so he wouldn’t have to be pulled around with his father.

you hadn’t been to the event in ages, parents leaving you behind at home every year since you turned thirteen and outright refused to attend anymore. you hated everything about the dick-measuring contest of a party; the disgusting display of wealth, the suffocating smell of old lady perfume, and the feeling of middle-aged men wrapping their wrinkly hands around your body when your mother would force you to hug them.

you never understood why your family came every year, but deep down, you knew. you guys weren’t rich, at least not when compared to the rest of the island club members. your parents ran a business that the tourists loved, and it generated enough money to send you to private school and pay to be a part of the country club. you’ve lived comfortably your entire life, but your parents had to work hard for that. since they weren’t born with a silver spoon in their mouth, they felt that they had to prove to everyone that they were just as good.

they come every year to make connections not only for themselves, but for you. they want to give you the chances they never had, so they drag themselves to events like this to make that possible.

so when you told them you were coming for the first time in almost five years, they were elated.

though, not as elated as rafe.

rafe had been your best friend since sophomore year of high school, when he was a junior. you weren’t sure why he wanted to be friends with you; he was older, more popular, richer. you felt as if you were in two different worlds. that didn’t matter to him though–once he set his sights on you, it was already decided that he would take you under his wing.

you always heard that rafe was an asshole to anyone with less money than him, and maybe that was true, but you’d never experienced it. in fact, he’d never been mean to anyone at all when you were around. as far as you knew, he was an angel. one with an increasingly concerning cocaine habit, but sweet nonetheless.

everyone always told you to stay away from him, or wondered how someone like you could ever be friends with him, but you never understood what they meant by it. to you, he was just rafe; your best friend.

"dance with me." rafe says, arms reaching out towards your direction.

"i am dancing with you?"

"no," he says, pulling you closer, "dance with me." he wraps your arms around his neck, swaying the pair of you side-to-side to the rhythm of the music.

"are you feeling better now?" you asked. he was dreading the party for weeks, and he could barely muster up a smile a few hours ago. he hums a yes, a content look on his face as he looks at you.

"you look so beautiful tonight, y/n." you looked down as your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "i'm serious. you're stunning."

"i know you're serious. why do you think i'm blushing?" he laughs at that. you could see the smile on his face when you meet his eyes again.

"i make you blush? that's cute."

"shut up." you stepped on his foot, though all he does in response is keep laughing. the two of you remained like this for a number of songs, just enjoying each other's presence.

after being at the gala deep into the night, you decide to call it. rafe says his goodbyes to his friends and a bunch of donors that are acquainted with his father, quite begrudgingly, before he walks you out to the car with him. rafe, with his constant need to show off how much money his family has, chose to have a small limousine pick up the two of you from his house. the driver was standing by the car with the back door open, closing it after you were settled inside.

"that was actually so much fun." you spoke tiredly.

"i told you it would be." he hums from the seat beside you while looking at his phone. you cut your eyes at him.

"you literally begged for me to come because you were dreading spending time with your father. which you ended up doing anyway."

"okay fine," he snorts, "but look at this." he leans in, showing you his phone. he posted a video of you loudly singing to a kehlani song on his instagram story, telling the artist to watch out in the caption.

"i told you to delete that shit, rafe!" you shoved at him in annoyance.

"but it's so cute! i've never seen you smiling like that before."

"yeah, because i'm always around you." he shoves you back, rolling his eyes with a smile on his face. he rests his head on you shoulder, grabbing at your hand and playing with the silver rings adorning your fingers.

he pauses abruptly, sniffing strangely. he turns his head, deeply inhaling by the spot where your neck meets your shoulders. the feeling of his breath on your bare skin makes you shudder involuntarily, but you don't react otherwise.

"you smell really nice." he says against your neck, lips brushing your skin.

"i know." you kept your reply short, knowing that if you tried to form a full sentence, your voice will certainly fail you.

"delicious, really." you bit your lip, trying to keep the inappropriate thoughts that have suddenly begun to attack you at bay.

"rafe." you sighed out.

"hm?" the blonde hums. he reaches up towards your necklace, toying with the pendant that decorates your chest.

it was a gift from rafe; a birthstone necklace for your eighteenth birthday.

rafe normally ignored your personal space, but this felt different. it couldn’t be the alcohol–even at his drunkest he never acted like…this. you didn’t have a lot of experience with guys, but you weren’t clueless. you knew that this wasn’t how guys acted with girls they were just friends with.

he took off his suit jacket when he got in the car, the muscles in his arms on full display in the well-fitted button up he wore. his legs looked mouthwatering, muscular thighs straining against the fabric of the slacks keeping them contained. the manner in which he sat with his legs wide open, manspreading, was so tempting.

you wanted to slap yourself for even letting those thoughts come to mind. what was wrong with you? rafe is your best friend.

you blinked a few times, eyes tearing away from the thickness of his legs and back up towards his lightly flushed face. you swallowed thickly, sure that rafe could see the way your throat bobbed from his position at your neck.

"have you been drinking?" the feeling of your heart thumping against your ribcage at a rapid pace only made you feel more on edge.

"no, i'm very sober." he says, his free hand moving to the small of your back.

"okay…so why are you acting like this right now?" your throat bobbed dryly once again.

“have you ever been touched, y/n?”

the question caught you totally off-guard, the nature of it immediately causing you to head up. you almost had to physically stop your jaw from falling to the floor.

"what?" is all you could respond with, more than sure that you misheard him.

"i’ve been thinking…” he trails off for a moment. “you’re almost nineteen, and i’ve never even seen you flirt with a guy.”

“okay, so?” you lick your lips, barely able to get your words off your tongue.

“so…you aren’t worried about going into college being inexperienced?” you shrugged, unsure of what he wanted you to say.

“i’ve never really thought about it.” the words left you softly, voice slightly shaky from nervousness.

“college guys are different, y’know. they don’t like girls that haven’t ever done anything.” he says. “that don’t know anything.”

“rafe…” you whined. you felt humiliated as he pointed out your lack of experience with boys at your age.

you and rafe were complete opposites in that aspect. you never really thought about sex, unless you were in the lone darkness of your room back home. the only guy you ever really thought about was him. he was involved in almost every part of your life, and it was hard to talk to other guys when he took up so much of your attention.

rafe, however…well–rafe got around. there was nothing he hadn’t done, and you didn’t have to ask to find that out. he loved to talk to you about his sexual endeavors, and you always tried your best to drown out all the vulgar details that he never attempted to spare you.

“i’m just asking as a concerned friend, y/n.” his blue eyes flicker up to meet yours, the ocean color much darker than you remembered. “has anyone ever touched you?”

“no!” you were short with your reply again, face hot and feeling flustered. “but that doesn’t–it doesn’t matter.”

“it doesn’t matter?” he sounds skeptical, brows rising to the middle of his forehead. “you don’t want me to teach you?”

“teach me, what?” your brows went up just as far as his. you were met with silence, rafe’s penetrating eyes a replacement for a verbal answer. “i don’t think friends are supposed to do those…things with each other.” you gulped again, the temperature inside your body rising the longer the conversation continues.

“why not? it’s smart to do those ‘things’ with someone that you trust.” the blonde chuckles at the avoidance of explicit language. "why is your heart beating so fast?" he asks, moving the hand that was previously playing with your necklace to where the muscles lies to feel it bang against your chest.

that only makes it beat faster.

"because you're making me nervous." your voice gets caught in your throat.

"i make you nervous?" he asks teasingly. you don't answer. "hm? can you answer me?"

"yes," you whisper, feeling him smile against your warm skin, "you're making me nervous."

"really?"

"rafe." he ignores the callout.

"how does this make you feel?" he presses his lips to your skin, soft kisses ghosting against your exposed neck.

"rafe." he continues his antics, the furnace in the pit of your stomach burning stronger with every placement of his plump lips.

"does this make you nervous too?"

"stop." your voice comes out pathetic and weak. you weren’t sure if you actually wanted him to stop.

"do you really want me to?" your mind is fuzzy, too focused on how he's making you feel. "hm? i will if you do. i just wanna help you…wanna teach you some things. don’t you trust me?" he stops the barrage of kisses to whisper in your ear, patiently awaiting an answer.

you felt like you were going crazy.

you’ve always daydreamed of something like this happening, but that was it. dreams. you’re a hormonal, young adult and rafe is undeniably attractive–of course you would think silly things like that. there's a little voice in the back of your head telling you to snap out of it, to not go this far with a boy that’s been your closest friend for years.

it makes you want to think about how many other people he's done this with, how he's just doing this with you because he just wants to get his dick wet for the night, and you’re the closest girl to him. how you’ve barely even had a first kiss, and how it makes no sense for you to do god knows what in a car with said boy.

the other part of you doesn't care and wants to give in to what he's trying to convince you. it doesn't care that it probably isn’t–definitely isn’t a good idea. that this is so out of left field and completely inappropriate–and that's the part that wins.

"yes." you’re as quiet as a mouse, sure that the sound of the car covered up your voice.

"yes, what?" he asks sweetly, rubbing his lips against the cartilage of your ear.

"yes, rafe, i trust you." you nearly whined, desperate for him to keep going. he smiled, planting a kiss to the ear his lips were resting against.

"good."

rafe goes back to the junction of your shoulder, more firmly this time. sliding the hand on your chest up your neck and to your jaw, he turns it away to gain more access. he leaves rough, wet kisses all over, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin.

he trails the kisses down further, marks left in his wake as he leaves burgundy hickeys over the tops of your breasts, the skin left exposed by the dress you wore. he moves the fabric of the skirt out of the way, a knee placed between your legs to keep them open as he hovers for a better angle. he pauses his assault, coming up for air. he looks at your frame beneath him, panting, eyes glassy and lipgloss completely bitten off.

"you look so cute right now" you mewled pathetically in response, arching your back to push your chest closer to him in an attempt to make him start again. "calm down, pretty girl. i'm right here." he says.

"rafe, please." you threw your head back against the seat, exhaling deeply. "don't mess with me right now."

"you want me to stop?"

"you're about to make me mad." you groaned, annoyed with his antics.

"i'm sorry, baby." he smirks like something is funny. "you're just so fun to play with." he steadies himself with a hand on your hip, the other one wrapped around your neck, thumbs grazing the center column in an up and down motion.

"you aren’t a very good teacher." you gritted out, utterly frustrated.

"i’m not?" you shook your head. he sits back down in his seat, grabbing you to pull you over his lap. "first lesson. make me hard." he says.

"wh-what?" you stuttered in complete shock, stumbling over one simple word like an idiot.

"do i need to repeat myself?" he begins pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck, up the center of your throat, and nipping at your jaw. you moan quietly at the feeling of his lips, pushing against his shoulders instinctively. "make me hard. no guy can fuck you with a soft dick."

you lick your lips, lack of experience leaving you clueless as to where to even start.

reaching around his head to grip the hair at the nape of his neck, you pulled his plush lips against yours in a bold move. you licked into his mouth hesitantly, the taste of mint toothpaste and bourbon hitting your senses immediately. rafe groaned against your lips, fisting the material of the dress in his hands; the bold choice seemed to have an effect on him. you did not go unaffected, the sound released from his throat sending a surge of heat through your entire body.

rafe was patient– letting you bite at his lips experimentally and tease his tongue with yours every now and then. you had no idea what you were doing, and you were more than sure that he could tell.

he pulls you closer to him, deepening the kiss with a sudden burst of confidence and passion. it could not be compared to the soft way you were kissing him just moments ago. his roughness against your mouth and the tightening grip he had on your hips did not match his usual sweet demeanor, the fierceness in his motions throwing you for a loop.

“jesus christ. do i even know this guy?” is the thought that hits your mind.

"sit on me." he whines, pulling away briefly. he squeezes the flesh beneath his hands, urging you to sit down all the way.

settling in his lap, you let yourself rest your weight completely on him instead of hovering. rafe grinds his hips up into you when you do this, letting you feel the barely contained bulge in his pants. you sucked in a breath of air, attempting to pull away, but he grabs the back of your neck to keep you from moving. the blonde was starting to take control of the situation again, clearly far more experienced.

you found a moment to pull away eventually, rafe chasing after with a string of saliva connecting your lips. he licks it away, the action sending your mind into a foggy mess of arousal.

"shit. hold on." you said, panting heavily above him. the boy kneads your flesh through the satin material of the gown, running his thumb over your swollen lips covered in our shared saliva.

"what is it, princess?"

"rafe," you ran a hand through the back of his hair, "why.."

"why, what?" he moves his hand back down to your neck, rubbing the bruises on the skin he made a few minutes earlier. "can you use your words, pretty girl?"

"why did you do that?"

"do what? this?" he grinds his hips up into you again and you whimper, falling forward against him to hide your face in his neck. he chuckles, pressing a wet kiss beneath your ear. "i wanted to show you how good you’re doing, that's why."

"i hate you." you muttered against his skin.

"oh, i'm sure you do."

you couldn't think clearly anymore, unable to form a full thought that wasn’t about what's going on in this car right now. you don't know how far you want to take this, but you didn't want to stop either. you'd never slept with anyone, your first real kiss was just given away to the boy beneath you moments ago.

"how much do you want to show me?" you said boldly, surprising the both of you.

"i hope you know what you're getting yourself into." he smiles lazily with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"i don't," you admit, leaning back to your original position, "but that's why i'm asking you to show me." you locked gazes with his, watching as his pupils blow out and his irises darken.

he leans forward and you meet him halfway. he laps messily at your lips and grazes the roof of your mouth with his tongue, the wet sounds of sloppy kissing and heaving breathing filling the silence of the limo. when rafe grips your neck again, he uses the grasp to keep your lips together until he decides you can come up for air.

he steals your breath away and you let him, the insistence of his tongue causing your shared saliva to run down your chin, no doubt ruining the makeup you worked on for hours earlier in the day. moaning against his wet lips, the obscenity of the kiss sent a blinding heat through your lower body.

suddenly, rafe’s hand grazed a nipple through the fabric of your dress. the action made you shiver involuntarily. he brushes over it a few times before covering your breast with his entire hand, squeezing it roughly. your body jerked against his, unable to control the reaction it had to his touch. he broke the kiss, the sound of you whimpering capturing his attention.

"you're so sensitive. do you like the way i touch you? how i take control over you?" he asks with a rough voice.

you were at a complete loss of words. not being used to being spoken to this way, you could only respond with a nod. rafe doesn't bring up an issue with your answer. you felt as your thin underwear began to grow damp, the fabric sticking to your skin as he palmed at your chest.

with glassy eyes, you watched as he groped your clothed breasts, brushing over your pebbled nipples and kissing the fresh hickeys as he worked on making new ones. rafe gazed up at your dazed expression, completely entranced with the unfiltered reactions. he’d never seen you so desperate.

"you're so adorable." he whispers against your neck.

"shut up," you respond. your breath stutters when he pinches a hard nipple through your dress, leaving it tender and nearly making you faint. he dropped his head back down to your chest, wrapping his mouth around your clothed breast. the action left you feeling dizzy, the sting of the pinch went directly to your core, leaving you clenching around nothing as you leaked pathetically into your underwear.

"rafe, stop! you're gonna leave a stain." you whined, pushing him off weakly. he pulls away begrudgingly, clearly displeased with the complaint.

"i don't give a fuck about this dress." he nearly growls.

he switched to the other breast, taking it into his mouth and tugging at the satin with his teeth. he licks roughly at the hidden nipple while a hand sneaks up to yank down one side of your dress, spreading the saliva that seeped through the fabric onto your damp skin. you hissed, the coolness of the air-conditioning causing the bud to harden even further from the wetness. you were desperate to feel his mouth lave across the bare skin. you looked up at the roof of the car, head heavy and feeling drunk with pleasure. he backs away suddenly, his hands frozen in place as he looks at you closely.

"rafe..." he groaned at the sound of his nickname leaving your mouth in such a pathetic plea for him to keep going. you ground your hips down against his in search for something to ease the throbbing between your thighs. you were beginning to lose it–your friend was single-handedly driving you insane in under fifteen minutes.

"what do you want me to do? use your words, beautiful," he looks up at you, his eyes wild and filled with lust. he ran his hands over your thighs, moving the skirt of the dress to expose your bare legs through the slit. you pulled his face towards your chest, lip captured between the sharpness of your teeth. “your second lesson is to tell me what feels good.”

"can you kiss me here, please?" your voice is quiet, embarrassed that you were begging for him to touch you.

your head fell back, all thoughts of embarrassment are gone when he pulls down the top of your dress slowly, releasing your breasts from their constraints. you weren't wearing a bra, the structure of the dress leaving no need for one; you were completely exposed to him.

rafe groans, his lips encasing one of the buds and releasing it with a wet 'pop.' he flattens his tongue against you, moving it in an upwards motion and repeating the action twice more. hovering over your chest, he opens his mouth wide to let his saliva drip down onto you before licking it back up with long drags of his tongue.

your clit pulsed intensely, eyes falling shut at the overwhelming feeling. rafe kept going, sucking and biting at your nipples like his life depended on it. his neat hair was ruined, the repeated gripping and tousling of the locks by you leaving it a complete mess. he groans against you when the manicured nails attached to your fingers scratch at his scalp.

"rafe," he dick twitched under you when you moaned his name, "please touch me. i need it." he hummed in acknowledgement, finally pulling away from your thoroughly dampened chest. strings of saliva connect his lips to your skin.

"are you wet for me, pretty girl?" the way he looks up at you through his lashes with swollen, red lips and a chin covered in his own spit is a pornographic scene.

you recognized the craving in his eyes immediately; they were a reflection of your own. with your usual shyness and critical thinking skills gone long ago, you grabbed rafe’s hand and placed it between your legs, allowing him to feel what he's done.

"fuck..." he cursed, frozen in place.

you squeal when he grabs you roughly, sitting you on one of his knees instead of over his lap. he watches your face as he pushes his flexed thigh up against your core, moving your hips against the tense muscle.

placing your hands on his shoulders, your steadied yourself as the hot pleasure flooded your body. he narrowed his eyes at you, gripping your waist tightly as he slid you back and forth across his thigh.you clung to his forearm at his roughness, the feeling of his fingers digging into the flesh both painful and arousing.

"does that feel good, baby?" you nodded, words unable to roll off your tongue properly.

rafe picks you up again, placing you back in the seat of the car. he turns to you and fits his body against your side, hiking the pink dress up and opening the slit to reveal your ruined underwear. he bites his lip as he drags a finger up and down the soaked fabric, in awe at the way it glides so easily. he pulls away, holding his fingers up to your face.

"can you get these wet for me, sweet girl?" you comply, allowing him to place them into your open mouth.

he uses his free hand to wrap around your body, groping at your bare chest from behind. the hand owning the digits that were previously encased by your mouth move back down between your legs. he uses the pads of his fingers to rub harsh, tight circles into your swollen clit, the sounds of your wetness filling the back of the car.

you grabbed his wrist in one hand, feeling your release building quickly.

you tremble against his body and he whispers sweet words into your ear, soothing you with wet kisses on your neck. you grind yourself into his merciless fingers, desperately after chasing your high as the heat spreads throughout your entire body.

"m'gonna cum," you say, on the verge of babbling mindlessly.

"you’re gonna cum already?” he chuckled at your whining, his head shaking. “how cute.”

his movements speed up unexpectedly, rubbing over your clothed pussy with fervor. your eyes squeeze shut, the pleasure building so quickly that you couldn’t keep them open any longer. the hand gripping his wrist moves up to his head, holding onto his messy hair for leverage. all of the restraint you had before had completely disappeared, hips jerking sharply into your friend's hand as you reach your peak.

"rafe-" you start loudly. the owner of the name clamps his free hand over your mouth and hushes you.

"we aren't alone, remember?" you nod, biting your lip to keep quiet, but he keeps his hand in place anyways just in case.

you whimper, thighs clamping around rafe’s hand tightly. he continues to palm and rub at your sensitive center, aiding you all the way through your climax instead of stopping despite how much your body twitches against him.

"mmm, you're taking it so well baby. making such a mess for me." you whine at his words, the sentence going straight to your gushing cunt.

the nails of your free hand dig into his arm, and the other continues pulling at his hair harshly in desperation. he groans deeply as he drags out your for his own pleasure, watching as you squirm against his hold, moaning his name pathetically through his palm.

"you're such a good girl for me," he praises into your ear, "so, so good. you learn so quickly.”

you pant against him, chest heaving and a few lonely tears falling from your eyes. you ache for something to fill your empty cunt, the feeling of his hands rubbing at your clothed core no longer enough to satiate the desire. you follow the motions of his hands with your hips now, still in a daze, unable to stop despite the overstimulation.

rafe slips his hand past the waistband of your panties, slipping his fingers through your folds and collecting the wetness that he created. you let out another pathetic whine; the feeling of his bare skin against yours causing your eyes to roll back into your head unconsciously.

"i know, pretty girl." he coos into your ear. he puts his glistening fingers to his mouth, moaning at the taste of you. he wraps a hand around your throat, squeezing it as he pulls you into a messy kiss. he pulls away, looking at your fucked out expression in awe.

he suddenly glances up towards the window in front of us and lets out a string of curses. you lift your head from his shoulder, reacting in the same way when you look out of the window.

the two of you rush to fix yourselves, the sight of your neighborhood filling the dark car windows. rafe grabs napkins from somewhere in the car, using them to wipe your chin, chest, and thighs clean, apologizing when he touches sensitive areas. he cleans his own hands and face off, throwing on his suit jacket while you adjust your dress back into its original state.

the limo pulls in front of your house, the sight of your parents’ cars and the lights on in their room shaking you slightly. you suck in a deep breath, taking in everything that just happened. you gnaw on your bottom lip, gloss long gone, and swallow deeply.

“what the fuck did i just do.”

you look over at matteo to gauge his reaction, only to find him staring already. you blush and start laughing, which prompts him to as well. your eyes rake over his body, and immediately spot the large bulge in his dress pants. the laughter fades into silence, feeling terrible for leaving him like that. what exactly do you do in a situation like this?

he catches you staring and smiles, head shaking as he laughs softly.

"i'm sorry about..." you trail off awkwardly, not knowing what to say, "that." you decide. he chuckles, moving to a seat closer.

"it's okay, don't worry about it." he says..

"well, um, i guess i should go. it's pretty late." you tell him, reaching for the door handle.

he intercepts, pulling you back towards him gently. he grabs your jaw with a firm grip and kisses you softly, sending butterflies to wreak havoc in your stomach. he massages your lips with his, the sweet movements drastically different from how he kissed you moments earlier. he pulls away, smiling with low eyes.

"i don’t think i can let the college boys have you..." he says softly, his eyes containing a look you’d never seen before.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #outer banks #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x oc #obx fanfiction #obx1 #obx2 #cleoluvrr fics #rafe cameron smut #obx3 #obx fic #rafe imagine

943 notes · View notes

i-yap · 7 months ago

Note

Classic ask but Batboys reaction to gn s/o wearing their clothes 🤞

Yessss i love that one ive read so many but I'm gonna change it a little bit and talk a bit more about the type of clothes they prefer and what they usually wear themselves. Just a headcanon about clothes.

Its gonna be a series cuz its kind of long .

Also i may suck at writing gn I'm sorry if I offend anyone or write something stupid. Im a cis fem she /her who grew up in a very close minded family so I'm really sorry just let me know if I write anything stupid and ill edit it okay?

WARNING - there is mention of bodies like some specification on what the readers body may look like. and a little about sex

Batboys reaction to gn s/o wearing their clothes - Dick grayson edition

dick grayson

dick wears a tank top and shorts at home which make his ass look hot(it always does).

He really likes it when you wear his boxer shorts or pajama pants or sweatpants which is tied to the hips and a simple cloth bra(if you wear one or shirtless if you don't) ( they're a little different from sports bra super light and so comfortable). but he loves just seeing you in any underwear and not just for sexual reasons.

it just makes him feel warm inside thinking how comfortable you feel around him and how your not insecure about your skin showing around him. for example If you had an insecurity about your stomach but can walk around in just shorts and shirtless/bra with him, it makes him feel like he has won against those stupid negative thoughts you have .

there is a very thin layer between you guys while cuddling And dick is really really warm so this way there is not too much overheating since direct skin to skin makes it uncomftably warm. I mean if you get cold easily you are welcome to take those off. Plus don't pretend that you wont slide your hands under that tank top to feel his abs.

When walking outside , Rather than taking off his entire coat to give you, he pulls you inside his coat so that you're sharing it or giving you the coat and then pulling you into his side and since your body is therefore pressed against his, more warmth. . he also will take off his scarf and gloves and basically wrap you up in it .

If you complain and say " you'll get cold tho" he'll laugh it off and say something cheesy like " you keep my heart warm..plus babe you know just how hot I am"

He loves wrapping you up in clothes in the gotham winter. " dickie your gloves are too big for me, I don't need glovess" , "bigger gloves mean more warmth, and you'll need them in just a minute"

you did need those gloves btw.

Also he likes wearing a little something of yours. Like if you wear multiple rings , he will buy you a much more meaningful and better quality one and then you're like " ugh I feel pressured to get you something you're too nice to mee" he just takes one of those rings that you got from a roadstand when you had change to spare and be like "we're equal now"

He will wear that ring everywhere , like will not leave without it.

also gets you a nightwing logo small pendant made out of the strongest material ( so u arent scared of breaking it) or some neckpiece he has been wearing forever ( he has in some comics) and it'll be long enough to easily hide (between your breasts/pecs/chest making it a fun sex thing )And wants you to wear it forever and never take it off.

He also likes it if you wear his shirts. Like dick wears these nice classic shirts which are well fitted ( a little tight too cuz its dick) and nice beige pants. So if you can wear his shirts without them being super tight( its hot when its a little tight around the chest/boobs/pecs ) or super drowny when you go to work , he loves it.

210 notes · View notes

bananayuyu · 2 months ago

Text

Heart Burn

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: You and your boyfriend have been planning this fun little scene for weeks now. Unfortunately your stomach has other plans.

Warnings: suggestive stuff, established relationship, reader has bad gut pain, (no smut but they are playing out a fantasy scene in the beginning kind of)

A/n: My tummy hurts and I want him to love me :(

All you'd wanted was for the scene to go well.

It had been in your calendar for three weeks now. You'd finally told him, in the cold comfort of the night, that'd you'd had this fantasy ever since you met him. Ever since you met him at his old law office, when you went with your friend to be moral support.

The suit really did it for you, you can't lie. You'd visited him at work many times just to see him in it. God did you wish he could take you right there, right in his little office, only unzipping his pants enough to fuck you.

But today as you stand in his apartment, the cool stone of the countertop hitting your lower back, you just aren't in the mood.

Your stomach is fucked, has been all day, and you don't know what it is. You haven't eaten anything you shouldn't, haven't done anything different. You've taken all your meds, like you always do. You even rested today in preparation for this, making sure your schedule was clear. But you haven't been able to eat since the late morning, and you're exhausted despite the rest.

"Hello, can I help you?" Yunho quips, stepping out of his tiny home office to greet you as if you were a perspective client.

"Hi, sir, I'm here to meet with Mr. Jeong," you say, bowing your head to him.

"Ah, you must be y/n," he smiles, bowing in response. "I'm ready for our meeting, if you'd like to follow me." He holds out his arms towards his office, waiting for you as you step past him through the door. He's moved the setup of the room around a bit, to accommodate the night's activities, so his desk is now in the center of the room, and one of his dining chairs has been placed in front of it. "You can have a seat in this chair here," he says, pulling it out for you. You sit down gently, trying to remain focused, trying to get into the scene, into the right mindset. But you just can't.

Yunho walks around to the other side of his desk, sitting down in his chair and ruffling with some papers. He plays the part so well, so easily, and you know if you weren't in so much pain that you'd be eating up every second of it.

"So, we're here to discuss your grandmother's estate, is that correct?" You just nod along, letting him lead you in the made up story. "What exactly has been the problem?"

"It's my mother, sir. She is determined to keep the money and assets away from me and my sister, even though my grandmother stated she wants it to be split between us. I just wanted to make sure we had the right legal protections in place," you say, hoping it sounds plausible enough to suffice.

"It's good you're getting ahead of this. Or I'm assuming you are, your grandmother hasn't passed yet, has she?"

"No sir, but her cancer has returned and she's decided she doesn't want treatment this time. She's on hospice. We probably still have a few months with her, but we don't know exactly," you say, sighing.

"I'm so sorry to hear that. I hope my help can ease some of the stress you must be feeling. Are you feeling okay?" Yunho cocks a brow, looking straight into your eyes. He's a bit surprised with the direction you're taking the story; it's much darker than he expected, and your sigh sounded all too real. He knows you're not that good of an actor.

"I'm fine, sir," you respond, but tears are brimming a bit, and you're clenching your arms around yourself because of the pain in your guts.

"Are you cold? I apologize, the heat isn't so great in this room," he says, staring at you now with extreme concern.

"A- a bit, sir," you nod, staring down at your crop top, depressed by the bloated look of your abdomen. You'd planned this outfit weeks ago, just like you'd planned his, but your body didn't really feel fit for it this afternoon when you put it on.

"Let me grab you something," he says, stepping up from his desk and leaving the room, returning not long after with one of his zip up hoodies.

"Here, you can take this. I keep it here in the office in case I need to work late and it's cold," he smiles, the words tumbling out of him with such ease. You snake it around you, wrapping it tightly instead of zipping it up, curling up into a ball on the chair. "Can I help you zip it?" he asks, looking for an in to touching you, and finally getting this scene more underway.

"Sure, thank you," you say, and he fixes you with a look that you know all too well. "Thank you, sir," you correct yourself, watching as his expression changes and he squats down in front of you, zipping up the hoodie for you.

"There, does that feel better?" he asks, rubbing a hand down your upper arm, smiling up in such an endearing way. But just as he does that a sharp pain snakes up your esophagus, and you can feel your whole gastrointestinal system is on fire. You wince, but try to hide it, nodding your head to answer him.

Suddenly his face changes, and his body language too.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he asks you, his voice different, not in character anymore. You just stare at him wide eyed, confused. You hadn't used your safe word, or said anything else to break the scene. Even if you maybe should have.

"I'm taking us out of the scene for good tonight if you don't tell me what's wrong," he says, voice stern but loving.

"My stomach," you sigh, looking beyond him, tears brimming again.

"It just started hurting?" he asks.

"All day," you shake your head, frowning.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, taking your hands in his.

"We'd been planning this for a while," you pout, still not looking at him.

"Baby, we have all the time in the world to do these things together. If you're not feeling well then we should reschedule. How you feel is what matters most," he says, and the tears start flowing, your breaths getting shaky. "Shh, come here," he coos, bending forward to pull you into a hug, tucking your head into his shoulder and holding it in his hand.

"I'm so sorry you're not feeling well, love," he says, placing a gentle kiss on your temple. "Have you eaten anything today?"

"Only breakfast," you mumble into his shoulder.

"Poor thing, you must be feeling exhausted," he says, and you nod into him. "Can I run you a bath?" he asks, and you mumble mmhm in response.

A few moments later he's off to start it, returning to carry you to the bathroom, slowly taking off your clothes. He knows the scene won't be happening tonight but he still loves getting to see you naked, even when you're feeling so shitty and constantly telling him to look away.

"You're so pretty," he says, and you whine in response, staring down at yourself. "I wish she'd fucking behave," he points to your stomach, leaning down to place a gentle kiss just to the right of your belly button. "She needs someone to punish her and make her get in line," he jokes, and you laugh too.

He then starts stripping off his clothes too, his beautiful suit taking a while to fully unbutton. You watch in awe from the bathroom, as he stands in the hallway, gently placing his suit back on it's hanger in the closet.

"What?" he asks you, quirking a brow jokingly. You roll your eyes, looking away briefly, but not able to keep your eyes away from his naked form for long. "You can't stop staring," he says, smirking, finally moving back in to join you. He helps you gingerly step into the tub, stepping in along with you. He sits himself behind you, his strong legs stretching out along the bottom of his large tub, and he carefully places you on top of him.

You whine and lean your head back, another pain striking somewhere in your small intestine. But the heat of the water is very relaxing, making things feel like they're moving in the direction they need to be, in the direction of feeling better.

"Come here, my love," Yunho says, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your forehead. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," you say, closing your eyes and letting your body completely relax against his.

Soon you're out, the warmth and comfort lulling you out of this reality, and finally you're getting the rest your body really needed tonight.

#ateez x reader #yunho x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #yunho fanfic #yunho fic #ateez fluff #yunho fluff

92 notes · View notes

oneofthetorturedpoets · 7 months ago

Text

Casual (part 1/?)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

youtube

You've always be attracted to Melissa, her fiery red hair drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You'd leave your door open after lunch so you could admire her figure as she teaches in the classroom right across from yours. You thought the feelings would go away after a few weeks but it's been a year since you've started and you still get butterflies when she looks your way.

It's PECSA weekend and you are dreading the event. You're a homebody and the idea of spending three days away from home annoyed you.

You hear a knock on your door during your free period, you look up, your heart skipping a beat when you see her. "Hey, you."

"Hey, Mel." You reply, closing your laptop in the process.

She frowns. "Why the long face?"

"I'm just stressed about pecsa." She pulls a chair up next to you, her perfume clouding up your senses.

"I've been over 15 times, if you're stressed about the lectures, I can give you my notes." She leans her arm against your desk, her hand holding her head up.

You sigh. "That would be great but I'm more worried about being gone for so long, I don't want to be away from home."

"I get it, I'm sorry." She grabs your hand, trying to comfort you. You try to be cool about it but your heart is racing.

You shake your head. "don't be, I'll live."

The weekend came faster than you'd like, you find yourself frantically packing your bags the morning of. You hear your doorbell ring.

You rush down stairs, swinging open the door. "Hey, you ready?" Melissa asks as you pull her into your house.

"perfect timing, I need help throwing my shit into bags." She shakes her head.

"I told you to pack yesterday." The disapproval in her voice making you feel bad.

You pull her upstairs. "I know, I just lost track of time grading last weeks tests."

"You could've called me for help, I'm always willing to help you."

Melissa held the door open for you as you walk into the hotel. The reception greats you and gives you keys to your room. You are in conjoint rooms, just a few doors down from Barbara. After you three get settled down, Melissa is already begging to go to the pool.

You make your way down to the pool, setting up your spot, both you and Melissa strip down to your bikinis before scoping out the bar right next to you. "Let me get you the best drink they have over there, it's like an orange fruity drink, you'll love it."

She runs over there, you watch as her ass bounces with each step. You try to not make it obvious as you squeeze your thighs together, Melissa turns around, seeing you look at her, she waves in your direction. Your face goes red, waving back at her.

It's the evening of the next day and you're exhausted. You've been to seven different lectures and 26 different teacher booths. Just as you turn around to grab another pamphlet, Melissa grabs it before you can.

"Why are you over here with the boring stuff?" She teases, you smile towards her.

"I never wanted to be in the first place, I was about to go back to the hotel when they stopped me." You stuff the papers you had in your hand, into your purse.

She gasps. "You can't go to your hotel room yet, you have to go to pacsageddin! It's the best party here, you can't miss it."

Melissa practically drags you to the party with her and Barbara. You all try to find a seat before a lady offers you a few chairs at her table.

"What schools are you with?" The lady asks as you three sit down.

Melissa frowns. "Who's askin'?"

"We're all with abbott elementary, how about you?" Barbara replies for you.

She nods. "I'm here as a vender, I own nickels school supplies."

All of a sudden Melissa is listening intently, you smirk, hoping to see some of her Schemmenti charm. "You're dawn nickels?"

They continue talking as you see a woman with blonde hair walk over, as you're about to comment on how similar she looks to Melissa, she gets up. "This table is taken."

A look you've never seen before takes over Melissa's face. "But-"

"It's taken, Barb." Melissa storms off and Barbara follows her. You're about to get up but the lady who Melissa knew stops you.

"Who are you to my sister? Another one and done?" You look at her weird, confused on what she meant.

"She never mentioned she has a sister, and I see why." You comment.

A few hours later you find yourself struggling to open your hotel door, the drinks you've had making it hard to think. You hear a door swing open.

"What took ya so long?" Melissa asks, giving you a dirty look.

You turn towards her. "having a conversation with your apparent sister."

The look she gave you made you shiver. "what the hell were you doing talking to her?"

"It wasn't a good one, I spent half the time defending your ass so don't give me that look, schemmenti." You struggle with the key some more before Melissa takes it from you and inserts it, opening the door. You mumble a thank you and walk into the room, she follows with you. You set down your things before turning your back to Melissa, She gets the hint and steps closer.

"You didn't have to defend me from her, everything she says is a lie." She says as she helps you unzip your dress.

"Well I wasn't going to sit there and let her drag your name through the dirt." you shrug off the dress, reaching for a shirt you put out. once that's on you turn to see Melissa right in front of you, the smell of alcohol drips from her.

She glances down at your lips. "Thank you." You look between her eyes, her aura drawing you in. You lean closer, seeing how far you can get. "I'm drunk."

"So am I" You smash your lips to hers. the jealousy Melissa was feeling seeped into the kiss, making it rough and passionate. Her lips were soft, catching you off guard. Her hands go straight to your ass, taking handfuls of it.

She pulls away. "What happens at pecsa, stays in pecsa?" You nod quickly, wanting more of her.

#fanfic #fem!reader #my fic #wlw fiction #abbott elementary #law #lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti fic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #Youtube

90 notes · View notes

sweetly-yours-and-mine · 2 years ago

Note

“you have a daughter?” with single dad! marc pls🥺🥺

Pairing: Marc Spector x f!Reader

Word Count: 2k (we're off to a strong start lol)

A/N: Just opened up my askbox for some requests!

Warnings: fluffy, a little angsty, marc is a bit of a nervous mess bless him

Marc, she’s come to find out, was the guy to take it slow.

He took his time with her, bought her flowers and pretty necklaces with jewelled pendants that he gave her when he took her out to dinner.

She’s never been charmed the way Marc has managed to charm her.

He walks her to her door after taking her out, kisses her cheek and then asks if she’d like it if he kissed her on her mouth.

The stories her grandmother told her of the dashing, charming men that wooed her off her feet when she was young finally start to ring true to her ears.

She feels that maybe, after years of looking, she’s managed to find a real treasure worth holding on to.

She feels that maybe all those ruined dates and talking phases and endless swipes on the dating apps were worth it, if it meant that one day Marc would stumble into her life like he always belonged there. She’d do it all over again, ten times over, to get to Marc.

Marc, she’s come to find out, is worth close to anything she’s able to give, and he always asks so little from her in return for all he does, as if she was worth all that he gives her and more.

He’s flurrying about his kitchen now, having banished her to the living room with a glass of wine and a quasi-demand to make herself at home, despite her insistence on helping. Dinner would be ready in just a couple of minutes, he said. He’d already set the table.

Marc, she’s come to find out, was the guy who liked having things done his way. Found it easier to take on the load himself than to let others help.

It’s the first time he’s invited her over to his place. The first time that he asked her to have a date night in, with soothing music and soft lights, just the two of them together.

Marc, she’s come to find out, was an utter, sappy romantic at heart.

She wonders if tonight will be the night he’ll take her to his bed, she wonders what the brown of his eyes will look like shrouded in desire and lust.

Her cheek is still tingling from where he’d kissed her, the small of her back warm from the heat of his palm. His cologne lingers in the air. There’s an anticipatory ache in her thighs and she tries to distract herself from it.

Her eyes are wandering, not looking for anything specific except for him, but because she’s scared that would be too weird, she looks out the window. She’s soaking in the view of the London skyline, dingy and dark from the near consistent rain they’ve had all week.

In Marc’s place, she barely feels a shred of the cold seep into her bones. There are only warm, yellow lights on, nothing too direct. She might as well be looking at a hyperrealistic painting.

She goes to set her glass down when her eyes fall on the picture frames, hung up beside the window. The wood is stained a deep brown that reminds her of Marc’s eyes, as all brown things usually do.

She hadn’t meant to pry, but now her curiosity has been stoked to life. The oven timer goes on and off, there’s a waft of something savoury as he opens and shuts the door.

The girl is too similar to Marc to be able to pass it off as a niece or a coincidence. The same head of dark curls, matching noses and bushy, unkempt eyebrows. She’s sure this is what Marc would have looked like, when he was a child, had he been a girl.

There’s a picture of her as an infant, still in the hospital and in a younger Marc’s arms, dark circles under his eyes and a nervous smile on his face. It’s the unmistakable traces of new fatherhood, she feels as if she’s seen thousands of pictures just like it, the same words, in different handwritings.

First day of school, mile-wide grin, heavy, sombre eyes from her father that were jarring against his smile. The girl’s pulled tight into his frame, Marc seems to be holding on to her as if she were a shadow.

Eyes flitting up and down, she takes in the rest of them. Days at the beach and nights at home. Milestones stacked on top of each other. Dance recitals, a small bouquet of roses clutched in her hands, held proudly in Marc’s arms.

They even grinned the same way.

Marc’s daughter was well-loved.

Happiness like that could never be faked.

She drifts back towards the kitchen. Marc’s curls, normally neat and tamed back are loose and carefree now.

He tugs on them when he’s nervous. Gives them two or three harsh pulls before drifting down to rub at the skin of his neck, exhales a nervous breath.

She’s underestimated the effect his presence can have on her. There are drawings on the fridge, drawings she hadn’t noticed, not until now.

She feels as if her lack of attention should be justified. Marc is pretty. Pretty in a way that makes her breath hitch, her head somersault on itself. She’s always a little tongue-tied during the first few minutes of their dates.

She knows now that it wasn’t just because of his little belly that tucked out comfortably when he sat down, or the crooked angles of his nose. Tenderness and patience radiates out from inside him, the kind people usually only get when raising children with love.

The thud of his knife against the cutting board, slicing through lettuce and cucumbers is comforting. Though she’d made him promise not to go all out, not to bother himself too much for the dinner, Marc has done exactly that.

“Hungry?”

“Hm?” There’s a dog in one of the drawings, a cat in the other.

“Just gotta finish the salad.”

She knows that it’ll be fruitless to offer to take anything to the table. She wants to ask him if he’d like some wine and is instead surprised by the words that flow out of her mouth. “You have a daughter?”

He freezes. A cucumber slides off his knife. It may have well been a scene out of a sitcom. She would have laughed, had it not been for the hold Marc already had on her heart.

She keeps her gaze steady on him, watches intently as he sets down his knife and looks at her.

There’s nothing she can tell from the expressions in his eyes, the hardened tilt of his mouth. She’s come to accept that it will take months before she’ll feel confident in reading the man in front of her, one who spoke so much with his body.

If she gets to take months to learn his language.

It’s an unpleasant little tumour of a thought. She swallows to apologise, to grab at whatever the string was that has managed to tie her tightly to Marc and make sure it stays there.

His throat bobs up and down. Marc speaks before she gets the chance to, “Yeah, I have a daughter.”

“What’s…” she wonders if it’s appropriate to ask, and the question dies on her lips.

“Maya. She’s seven now.”

Maya. She rolls the word around her head like a marble, tries to connect it to the photos and drawings hung up around the place. “She looks just like you.”

He laughs, an awkward, fumbling thing. It’s like a flat ball. “We get that a lot.”

“Well, it’s true,” she smiles and tentatively reaches for his hand. It’s a little rough, a little wet from the freshly-washed vegetables; she wonders if he would like it if she bought him some cream, something with glycerin. “And you’re both very beautiful.”

He pauses, emotions fighting on his face until he settles for steering the topic away from him, “You really don’t mind?”

“Why would I?”

He shrugs, casts his eyes away from her. The pressure of his hand in hers fades ever so slightly and she stumbles forward to make sure it stays.

“I don’t mind,” she swallows, rounds over the counter so she comes to stand beside him and looks up at him. “I really don’t. And I’d love to meet her, whenever you think it’s time.”

There’s a familiar expression in his eyes, one that she’s able to figure just from the sheer amount of times he’s looked at her with it on.

“I don’t lie about these things, Marc.” She leans up and kisses his cheek, squeezes his hand at the same time. “And I understand why you didn’t tell me sooner.”

He pauses, mouth hardened into a firm little line, “You like kids?”

She nods. There’s the footprint of her lips on his cheek, a faint brush of rusty pink that plants a little seed of possession inside of her.

“Good.” His voice is gruff, serious like a boulder of sandstone.

“Sorry for springing it on you like that, I saw the photos and-”

He shakes his head, his free hand comes to rest on her waist. Water seeps into her clothes and onto her skin and she revels in the feeling of it, a physical trace of his touch on her.

It amazes her how quickly he can quiet the static inside her mind. “I meant to tell you tonight.” He sighs, his breath rolling over her face, a stitch forming on his forehead. “Forgot about the pictures.”

She presses away the stitch, smiles and delights when he smiles back, retracted and tight, the corners of his eyes wrinkling like well-loved and sunkissed linen.

His phone starts to ring, turns their soft bubble into shattered ice. The grimace returns to his face, “Sorry.”

The cadence of his voice is soft, soft in a way that’s never been directed at her, when he answers the call and goes into his room, “Hey baby…” It sounds like honey, syrupy and nutritious, she feels if she listens hard enough she can hear the gentle hum of bumblebees underneath. “I miss you too.”

She’s finishing the salad when he returns, cutting the rest of the vegetables the way he’d started and hoping that she’d done a good enough job.

His gaze falls back to her hands, “Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologise for,” she slides everything off the cutting board and into the bowl, sets everything aside and comes close to him. “Is she alright?”

“Yeah,” his fingers are tentative as they reach for her again. Her hands come on top of his and press down. A never ending cycle of reassurance. “She’s at my cousin’s. Told her to call before she goes to bed.”

The thought that he has the place to himself tonight makes her stomach flip-flop on itself.

She dares to cup his face between her hands. She’s never done it before and finds the feel of his clean-shaven skin addicting, “You’re a good father.” He stiffens in her arms but doesn’t move out of them. The picture of young Marc in the hospital with his daughter rises again in her mind, “Thank you for making me dinner.”

He frowns, eyebrows furrowing together like two fuzzy caterpillars, “You haven’t fuckin’ eaten it yet.”

It makes her laugh, and she lets him go, kisses him on his pouty mouth. The way he moves is like a butterfly coming out of its cocoon.

He’s all business now, rushing about the kitchen to finish the food. Her eyes fall back to the drawings, flit over to the curly head of his hair, “Do you want some wine, Marc?”

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond to, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here, requests here.

#maria's requests #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x female!reader #marc spector fluff #marc spector angst #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector fanfic #marc spector fic #marc spector x f!reader #marc spector imagine #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight #moon knight imagine #moon knight fic #oscar isaac

674 notes · View notes

am-i-obsessed---maybe · 1 year ago

Text

Dark Glasses - Crowley x Reader (Platonic)

Sooooo, Nanowrimo was a bust, but you know what that means?

We're back with the fanfiction train! Choo Choo!

also reminder that requests are open! (just check out my guidelines first)

Wordcount: 1.9k

Summery: Friends support friends even when your friend is actually a demon but especially when your demon friend just got shot down by his long time angel crush.

The same man has been coming to your bar since you started working there five years ago. The other bartenders told you he's been around since you opened 20 years ago, he never gives his name and comes in with dark glasses no matter what time of day it is or whether the sun is out or not. Although unlike most regulars he doesn't have a specific drink he always orders. Sometimes it’s a rum and coke, sometimes he goes for a more classy bottle of wine, sometimes he'll even order a straight shot of liquor but he always tips well.

You call him 'Dark Glasses'. You could have called him redhead seeing as his hair was the most vibrant red you'd ever seen. There was no way it was natural but that wouldn't be fair to him. Some people can get very touchy about red hair.

Instead you called him dark glasses.

Dark Glasses came into your bar one day, sauntering over in the late afternoon, not an unnatural occurrence. The bar was basically empty with the exception of two friends that got a head start on the night's drinking.

Dark Glasses sat down and you could feel the loss and pain flowing off of him, not like how you can tell with people. It wasn't his expression or body language that gave you the impression though, it was as if you felt his emotions. As if they were ebbing off of him.

"Give me whatever's strongest" He said and you nodded, something told you he needed to drown out his sorrows.

“One bone dry martini coming right up” you said.

As you mixed his drink you periodically looked over at him, the poor guy was thrown over the bar as if it was the only thing keeping him from crying.

You walked over to him and handed him the drink.

"There you go sir" You said and he perked up only slightly, took the glass from you and downed the entire thing in one go.

"I'll need another one" He said, pushing the glass back in your direction.

You stared at him, "That, that was a glass of straight vodka. three shots of vodka." You said, stunned.

"I thought you said this was a martini" The man mumbled.

"Yes, the glass is coated in a little bit of vermouth, that's what makes it so dry... You just downed three shots of vodka like it was nothing" You said.

"Got a high tolerance, now can I get another one please?" He asked and honestly you were a bit too stunned to say no.

After two more though you knew he was done. Normal people, even those with a high tolerance like he apparently has can't drink more than 6 shots of vodka without getting drunk and he was drunk.

Mind you, not the fun kind he normally is. You're familiar with Dark Glasses when he's drunk. He slurs and gets very bold and flirty as well as clumsy, though not touchy which always surprised you. Now though, now was different. Now he was a sad drunk. Moping all around the bar. He could barely walk, instead he swayed from side to side and his flirting, something you could usually count on to raise your spirits, became lowley grumbling.

"I think that's enough" You said, taking what little remained of his third glass and pouring it out.

"What? No! I'm fine" He tried to say but struggled with the last word.

"No, you're drunk. You can stick around but the only thing you're getting is water" You told him and he made a face that almost looked like a snake trying to give puppy dog eyes.

"Come on Y/N, you know me, I can handle anything" He said, pulling you by the sleeve over the bar.

He's never initiated contact like that before. Not with anyone.

"Alright, that's enough. Go home" You told him and he deflated.

"Can't," He said.

"What do you mean can't?" You asked.

He had a home. He'd told you about it. A nice flat in mayfair with lots of plants.

"Can't. Don't live there anymore" He said and you looked genuinely surprised. Is that what has him so down in the dumps? Was he evicted? Did the bank repossess his apartment?

"What about that bookseller friend of yours in Soho? Can't you stay with him?" You asked and he shook his head.

"He's gone. He went to heaven" Dark Glasses said.

"Oh I'm so sorry" You said, maybe that was why he was so down.

"How about this, I finish my shift in a couple hours, you can crash on my couch" You told him. You'd never have said this to anyone else but you knew Dark Glasses. You knew he was sweet though he hated when someone pointed it out and you knew he needed help.

"You would do that for me?" He asked and you smiled.

"What can I say, you tip really well" You joked and managed to get a chuckle out of him before he went back to moping.

A few hours later He was leaning on you as you walked him out of the bar. Somehow still just as drunk as when you'd taken away his last drink.

"Wait, wait, wait, how are we going to your place?" He asked.

"Car" you said. He wasn't heavy but keeping him walking in a somewhat straight line out was difficult.

"My car?" He asked.

"No. You are not driving. My car" You told him and led him over to where your slightly beat up old car was parked.

"Now come on, in you go" You said, trying to help him in. It took a minute but he managed to shimmy in comfortably enough for someone with very little control of their extremities.

"I don't like this car" He complained.

"Too bad" you told him, got in and drove off.

"Why are you helping me? You're never this nice" He slurred.

"You're never this mopey" You retorted.

"Yeah but, but..." He trailed off.

"We're almost there just don't fall asleep the last thing I need is to try to drag you up to my place" You said and he nodded.

"Don't worry, I won't, I can sober up whenever I want" He said and you shook his head. Sometimes Dark Glasses said the craziest things when he was drunk. Sometimes he'd say them when he wasn't drunk but that was neither here nor there.

You eased him through the door to your flat and he smiled.

"You have plants, very nice Y/N" He said and you smiled.

"Thank you now you go sit down before you collapse all over my floor" You told him and he did as he was told, sitting down and then sprawling himself over your couch.

"He used to do this too, when I was too drunk, he'd bring me in and tell me to sit" he slurred and you turned to him, confused.

"Who?" You asked.

“My angel” Dark Glasses said. You came over to him with a glass of water.

"It's hard, when someone dies. Grief is a powerful thing" You told him and he shrugged.

"I wouldn't know" he said, slurping down the contents of the cup.

"Just sleep. You'll feel better in the morning" you told him, spreading a blanket over him and placing the cup on the coffee table.

"Try to make it to the toilet if you puke" You told him and went to bed yourself.

Crowley had never been hungover. He'd always sober up before it got to that point but this time he didn't. Even the thought of sobering up made him think of his drinking sessions with Aziraphale.

But Aziraphale left. He went to heaven and left Crowley to drown out his sorrows the human way.

The first thing you woke up to was the loud sound of someone vomiting.

"Please god let him have made it to the toilet" You said to yourself, throwing off the blacket and going to check on your mysterious guest.

She must have thought it would be funnier to scare you because Crowley in fact made it to the toilet. Luckily.

Crowley was practically puking his life out, once it was all out, at least for now, he heaved.

"How do humans do this?" He asked. He had half a mind to miracle it all away.

"With years of practice" You said, making your presence known.

"Ahhh!" He shouted, falling back on his butt only to rub at his head and groan, "Ugh". Now everything hurt even more than before.

He still had his sunglasses on, though the bathroom lights were off and the sun hadn’t even come up yet.

"I always thought you were pretty strange but now I'm starting to wonder if you're sane at all" You said.

"If you're worried I'll go crazy and attack you, you needn't be." He said quietly and you rolled your eyes.

"As if you could with the way you are right now, you look like you've been dragged through hell" You said and Crowley looked back down at the toilet.

"Oh you have no idea" He said.

At this point he was simply sitting criss-crossed in front of the toilet so you sat down on the bathroom floor next to him. Checking the time, it had only been a few hours.

"I know you've gotten drunk before, have you seriously never been hungover?" You asked.

"Never" He said.

"I don't think I believe you" You said.

“Well it’s the truth” He said.

“You are one strange specimen Glasses” You said.

“Glasses?” He asked.

“Oh, um, you never told any of us at the bar what your name was so we just called you Dark Glasses… cause you’re always wearing your dark—”

“Yeah I get it” He said. “It’s Crowley by the way”

“That’s quite the original name” You said.

“Used to be Crawley but that was a bit too” He made a hissing noise with his tongue and you noticed it was thin and split, like a snake’s.

“You know sometimes I wonder if you’re even human with all the strange shit that comes out of your mouth” You joked and Crowley laughed and then smirked.

“You wanna know a secret?” He asked.

You looked at him skeptically. “Do I?” You asked.

He shrugged, “It’s up to you really” He said.

“Then, yeah I guess”

“I’m a demon” He said.

You chuckled.

He didn’t laugh.

“No”

“Yes”

“I was the serpent of eden” He said, smiling.

“That’s not– no… cause that would mean that god” He nodded, “And satan” He nodded again.

“The world almost ended four years ago” He says. It’s almost as if seeing your reaction is helping him get his spirits back.

“You can’t just drop a bomb like that and move on!”

…

“How come it didn’t?” You asked.

“We convinced the antichrist that the earth was actually pretty nice” He said.

“We?” You asked.

“Aziraphale… and I” He said, his voice dwindling.

“He’s that bookseller friend of yours right?” You asked and Crowley nodded.

“He’s the one that died, I’m so sorry Crowley” You said, putting a comforting hand on Crowley’s shoulder.

“He didn’t die.” Crowley said.

You looked at him, “But you said he went to heaven” “He’s an angel, my angel” Crowley said, his voice wasn’t a white, it was more just, sad and full of grief.

“He went off to become the new supreme archangel of all of heaven” Crowley said, this time he was in fact whining.

“Well then, he could come back” You said but Crowley shook his head.

“Not after he said he forgave me” He said.

“Forgave you for what?” “Kissing him,” Crowley said sorrowfully.

Oh.

“I’ll go get us both some wine” You said.

#good omens x reader #crowley x reader #gn reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #good omens 2 #aziraphale x crowley #platonic reader insert #good omens crowley x reader

175 notes · View notes

drxsxull22 · 2 years ago

Text

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Wayne Mccullough x reader

(characters are of age not minors)

_____________________________________

It had been a month since me and Wayne had been on the run. All because of the car his father wanted him to have. We had little money and no memories of sleeping in comfortable areas. So this motel was the least of our problems, it would be better than sleeping under a sheet of metal or a tent.

"Room for two please". I ask the receptionist.

She reached behind her then slowly handed us a key.

"Room 15, just down there". Her old voice croaked.

We followed the direction her frail finger pointed, passing all different rooms.

12, 13, 14...

"This is it". I say while turning the key in the lock.

And we both freeze.

One bed.

How were we supposed to share a bed. It would be awkward.

"It's better than nothing, I can always sleep on the floor". He says while walking in.

I follow and drop my backpack by the bedside table, taking a peek around.

It was clean, tidy. The white sheets looked washed. I could get definitely get comfy.

It had a small bathroom and a mini fridge on top of the drawers by the door.

"Cool". I say while opening the mini fridge. It was empty. I sigh.

_____________________________________

Wayne sits motionless on the bed whilst I pace back and forth peeking out of the closed curtains. The sun had gone down.

"So, uh...".

"This car, its in florida?" I ask.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure". He replies.

"Your pretty sure?". I raise a brow.

"But, you know where we're going right?, like you have an address?". I cross my arms.

"Well, the city, or town, yeah". He shrugs.

I pause. "I gotta go to the bathroom". I grab my backpack, walk in and close the door with no other questions.

I run the cold tap, and wash the refreshing water over my tired face.

Patting gently with a towel then searching through my bag.

"Shit" I exclaim.

I had forgot a bra. As stupid as it sounds.

The night Wayne came to get me. I rushed as fast as could. I must have not packed one.

The air-conditioning was fucked. It was 20° outside. And I couldn't think of anything worse than sleeping in my hoodie and not getting any sleep. Or waking up in the middle of the night and not getting back.

There was only one other option.

I take my hoodie off, and notice that my chest is slightly visible but only a little.

"Stay where you are". I yell out to Wayne.

I open the door, bringing my arms up to my chest then go to turn the lamp off.

Wayne is already setting a pillow on the ground next to the bed.

I walk slowly over to the bed, and crawl under the covers.

Laying there for a few minutes, Wayne breaks the silence.

"Y/n, I think you should stay".

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I just think that if you want to stay, you should stay" he says.

I raise in the bed confused.

"Did you find the bus ticket?" I ask.

"Yeah".

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to take you away. But after seeing your father act like a dick to you. I couldn't leave you behind". He said.

He sounded so sincere when he talked. Like he actually cared.

"Anyway I'd bett-".

"Come up here". I interrupt.

"What?". He asked.

"Stay....I mean, come to bed".

He raised to his feet and I placed my head down on the pillow.

He got under the covers.

I was surprised he wasn't warm. Though he was wearing the same grey tshirt he had under his hoodie.

"My dad wasn't always a dick, there was a time when he was, well, not such an asshole as his now. That was before my mom died. He loved her. He loved me. He treats my brothers the same. But he was different. And if he goes. I've got nobody".

"You have now though, right?". His quiet tone asks.

I turn away putting on the bedside lamp. Then turn back to face him. Not saying anything. Just looking.

The silence built. Then his hand came up to my cheek. Brushing the stray hair that dangled infront of my eyes.

I bring my face down to his level. Slowly I lock my lips onto his.

His reaction wasn't visible. He didn't show any sign of pulling away. Only seeming to want more.

He slipped his hand at the back of my neck kissing my jaw then my jugular.

I felt my heart pound. His hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me into his lap.

Giving himself easier access to every inch of my upper half.

"Tell me to stop". He breathed.

"No".

I gripped onto his dark hair. Kissing harder.

He noticed the translucency of my top and I could feel his jeans growing stiffer by the second, which caused me to move.

He groaned. Sliding a hand up my back, then down to the hem of my camisole.

He looked at me for consent, to which I just nodded.

From there he began lifting my top up and over my head. His fingers tickled my spine as they danced lower and lower to the bottom rim of my jeans.

Then in a swift motion he rolled me onto my back and kissed down my chest.

"Is this ok?". He asks quietly.

"Mhm". I bit down on the inside of my cheek.

He pulls back, reaching both arms over and removing his tshirt.

Then he goes for the button on my jeans.

Slowly unbuttoning them and sliding them down my legs.

"Are you sure, if you don't want to, tell me". He looked up me through puppy eyes.

"I want it, please Wayne".

The fact that he asked consent made me want him even more.

He got down at the end of the bed. I knew what was coming.

And it only made my excitement go through the roof.

"I'll be gentle". He pulled my underwear off.

He hooked his arms under my legs, pulling them apart for his eyes to linger.

"You're so pretty". He kisses my inner thigh.

His soft kisses trailed higher and higher. Until he was right where I wanted him to be.

I swallow hard when his strong grip pulled me closer.

"Mmmm" his groans shot through me.

His tongue wouldn't stop. It kept grazing my core.

"Fuck". I writhed under his grasp.

For such a quiet boy, he surely wasn't shy when it came to giving pleasure.

Gentle was an understatement. He grew more rougher and needy as he licked deeper.

I could feel my stomach tighten. And I gripped his soft dark hair, pulling lightly.

"I'm close".

I came closer and closer until I reached the climax I long waited for.

I thought he would pull away. But he didn't.

He didn't stop. His tongue kept a steady pace inside of me.

His eyes were shut, like he was sinking into a trance he didn't realise he was in.

"Wayne...wait" I stutter.

He brought his arm up and across my hips. Guarding my movement.

He couldn't help himself, he kept at it.

I could feel the overstimulation hit. And I couldn't take it anymore.

There was so much pleasure yet so much pain. It was all too much to handle.

His tongue wraps around my clit causing me to jolt.

But his strong arm kept me down.

"I cant-please...ah!".

He looks up at me.

"Just a little longer". He pleaded.

As much as It hurt, I didn't want him to stop.

He dipped his head back down and went back to it.

I felt the same tight sensation, this time it was enhanced.

I arched my back as I came for the second time.

He kissed my thigh once more, then pulled back.

My legs went sloppy, like honestly, I couldn't feel them.

He took off his jeans and boxers, then climbed on top.

"Wayne".

"Yeah?" He asks softly.

"I haven't, done this before" I confess.

"Neither have i" he replies.

Which leads me to believe he's lying.

"You sure?" I raise a brow.

"I mean you did just go down on me like you've done it before so-".

"I promise" he laughs.

"And this time I'll be gentle, I promise that too". He kisses me softly.

He slowly entered me which I slightly tensed at the pain.

He rested his hands on each side of my head. His fingers playing with my hair which relaxed me.

And slowly he started to move.

"Ah, fuck Wayne" I whine.

"Am I hurting you?" He asks worried.

"No, it just, feels good" my cheeks flush red.

He tucks his head into my neck breathing hot heavy breaths while pressing open mouth kisses on my beating pulse.

I ran my fingers through his hair, and in return he whimpered slightly.

"God Y/n, I love you so much" He exclaimed.

I was surprised. I wouldn't have thought he felt the same. But he did.

My moans were a signal for him to speed up. And that he did. Gradually he went faster.

I felt his hand come down from the side of my head. And he gripped onto my thigh, tilting me slightly.

I screamed when he hit the right spot.

He took notice and continued to hit it over and over until were both near. And we could feel it.

And in an instant we both came together.

I drew a sharp breath when he pulled out. I was so sensitive and sore it was almost hard to move.

But he noticed how worn out I looked and comforted me. Wiping the sweaty strands out of my face then cradling me close.

"I love you too".

He looked down at me completely in awe.

"Really?" He asked.

"Yes".

I kiss him.

We lay there for a minute or two. I realised.

"Fuck!" My eyes widen.

"What" he asked curiously.

"You didn't pull out of me. You came in me!!". I shout, jumping out of bed then speedily get dressed.

"Shit, Y/n im-".

"No time Wayne. We gotta go".

"Where?".

"To get the fucking after pill". I give him an obvious look. Which I know I shouldn't have.

It wasn't his fault. It was our first time. But still the amount of times parents warn their kids about safe sex and the first time gets fucked up.

He got out of bed and got dressed.

Once we were complete, I ran out the door and he followed.

It was way too early for a baby.

Could you imagine?.

A little baby Wayne Jr. Sounds cute when I think about it.

Maybe someday.

#wayne mccullough smut #wayne mccullough #fanfic #smut #x reader

292 notes · View notes

blnova180 · 3 months ago

Text

The Bad Sandwiches 2

This story contains: multiple sick characters, male and female, with descriptive belly rumbles, vomit, scat and diarrhea!!!

Sci-fi setting: In a world where humans and robots are at war with each other, during a rare moment of armistice, the base comes under attack by a bad case of food poisoning.

(Different characters from last time, and yet, my naming skills still suck -- read part 1 for more context.)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Private Vez left the canteen in a hurry, throwing her empty tray to the ground. She couldn't stand Gren and her stupid group of friends, especially Nares. He was always tripping over himself trying to impress her.

Vez wiped her eyes, heading for the bathroom. Back at the academy, she wanted nothing more than to be Gren's friend, to just breath the same air as her; now she hated being stuck in the same unit. If it wasn't for Commander Spree, she would've sent in a request to be transfer a long time ago.

Sniffing, she pulled a couple paper towels out of the dispenser, getting them damp before running them through her hair. It was twenty minutes before she got the worst of the tuna chunks out. Her eyes burned with shame. Vez didn't know why she let them walk all over her, why everyone always seemed to be on Gren's side.

Prefect, stupid, beautiful Gren. Vez sighed, knowing all too well, no matter how hard she wished, Gren would never see her as more than a stepping stood, a target. A stray tear dripped down her cheek, the sound of hushed laughs echoing in her ears. Vex wiped it away, a long with the memory of Nares tripping her, making her fall into her stupid tuna sandwich.

Taking a few breaths, Vez left the bathroom in a rush, surprised when she realized she'd bumped into Spree.

"Commander! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you."

Spree looked down at her, eyes narrowed.

"Private. You smell like tuna," she commented.

Vez bit her lip. "Yes. Sorry, I- There was an accident in the canteen."

Spree raised her eyebrows. "The canteen... You just came out of the bathroom, are you sick?"

"No? I don't think so..." Vez looked at her curiously. "Why, is something going on?"

"We've got a bit of a situation," Spree sighed. "The tuna sandwiches they served today were expired. I'm checking on our unit, a few people have already turned up sick at the med-bay. Did you..?"

"I didn't eat it," Vez said quickly, suddenly very glad she dodged that bullet.

"Good," Spree said. "I need you help me check up on the others. I already took Warin, Standin and Jet, down. Have you seen lieutenants Fleck and Hade?"

"Um... They might've gone to the training room," Vez said. "Who should I look for?"

"Find Gren and Nares," Spree called out over her shoulder, already walking down the hall. "If you find anyone else who's sick, make sure they get to the med-bay!"

Vez gave a salute and turned on her heels.

She really didn't want to look for Gren and Nares, but her commander had given her an order. She could only hope they hadn't eaten any tuna sandwiches.

An hour later, after directing a couple people she found throwing up in the hall to the med-bay, assuring them as best she could that it happening to others; Vez finally located Gren and Nares in one of the private study halls. They were watching an old tape from one of the early Robot Wars, sitting on bean-bag.

The foul smell that hit her when she opened the door, alerted Vez what she worried about was true. It didn't seem the other two had noticed their own gas, though Gren was subtlety rubbing her stomach.

"Oh great, just what I needed," Gren said when she noticed Vez. "What do you want?"

"Commander Spree, uh, um, well, she said..." Vez shuffled her feet.

Nares roles his eyes. "What? Spree said what? Get on with it already, can't you see we're busy?"

Vez took a deep breath. "The tuna sandwiches were expired, if you ate it, you have to report to the med-bay."

Gren and Nares stared at her incredulously.

"You're kidding," Gren said, her hand freezing on her belly.

"No, I ran into some sick people on my way here," Vez said. "Spree told me to look for you guys."

Nares placed his hand on his own stomach, giving Gren a worried look.

Gren groaned. "Oh, fine, let's go. It's probably nothing anyway. Come on."

Vez trailed awkwardly behind them has they made their way down to the med-bay. She knew they probably didn't want her there, but Spree told her to escort them, so she had to.

Gren and Nares' stomachs were starting to make more audible noises the further they went, gurgling and burbling unpleasantly. Vez tried to ignore it, because they were acting like nothing was happing anyway. That was, until Gren suddenly stopped, putting a covering her mouth as she burped wetly.

"Uuuurrrrppp~ Bathroom," was all she said, making a b-line for the nearest one.

Vez, followed her in, Nares just behind her, clutching his own gut.

"Gren... can't you hold it in?" he begged, "If you puke, I think I'm gonna-"

It was too late, Gren slumped over the nearest sink and heaved.

"Bleeaaargh! cough- cough Bleargghhh~"

As soon as she started to vomit, Nares shot into a stall, and Vez saw him shiver, before projectile vomiting onto the toilet.

"Urp-hic- bleaaaarrrhghhhhh!"

Ignoring his predicament, Vez got a scrunchy out her pocket and tied Gren's hair back.

"Bleeagghhh~"

Gren groaned, running her hands up and down her tummy.

"Hic- oh, God, that hurts," she complained. She pulled up her shirt. "Ugh, my stomach is killing me... do I look bloated to you?"

Vez looked down, noticing her stomach did look rather distended.

"Yeah, kind of. Uh, do you want to rest for a bit before we keep going?"

Gren wiped some sweat from her face. "Yes. Just give me a second to catch my breath..."

She went to the stall next to Nares', sitting down on the toilet.

"Bleegh- ugh-uuurrrp-blaaarrrrrrrrrhhhgh!"

From the other stall, Vex could hear Nares still throwing up, and she could see he was kneeling on the floor now.

Grrrrll. Gwwwwup.

Gren moaned as her stomach gurgled boisterously. She rubbed her belly harder with big circles.

Braaappp. Brrrt. Pfff~

"No- no, I can't- I can't hold it!"

Vez and Gren shared a look as Nares farted wetly. He hadn't moved from his spot on the floor, and Vez could hear it when his farts started pushing out something more than just gas.

Ksshhhh. Prrrrtttt. Brap. BRAAAAPPPP. BlllRRRRppp!

Based on his grunts and sobs, not to mention the smell, it became obvious his poor belly hadn't been able to hold back any more, and Nares was sick from his other end too. Which, unfortunately, was ending up in his pants.

Clearly not wanting something similar to happen to her, Gren rushed to loosen her belt and drop her pants. Her tummy growled warningly.

And Vez was left to stare in shock, as perfect Gren's bloated stomach shuddered, before a monster fart escaped her.

BRAAAAPPPPPPP!

It barely had time to echo in the toilet, before chunks of soft and watery poop were forcing their way out of her too.

"Uuugghh..." She skewered her eyes shut, farting again.

Pooot~

"Go, check on Nares," Gren panted.

Feeling like she'd probably already witnessed the worst of it, Vez walked into the next stall. Nares had managed to get his pants down to his knees, but it wasn't any help, because there was still a trickle of brown liquid dripping from the back of his stained underwear.

"I don't feel so good," he whispered weakly.

Phhwwrrraaghh~

His tummy roared and he shot up to puke again.

"Bleeaagh- uuurp- BLEAARRRGHHHH~"

Gingerly, Vez made her way over to him, patting his back.

"It's alright, just get it out. You're fine, it'll be okay," Vez said sympathetically, noticing he was crying.

She handed him some toilet pater to wipe his face.

"I really don't feel good," he panted when it was over.

"I know," Vez said. "We're going to the med-bay, come on."

Swallowing, Nares pulled up his pants, trying not to look down.

"I need another minute," Gren grunted from her stall. "I've got the runs."

Sprrtttt, brrrrllt, BRAPP.

After another minute, she emerged and they started making their way to the med-bay again. They walked in relative silence until they reached the med-bay doors.

"Hey, uh," Gren glanced at Nares, then Vez. "We're, well, sorry about earlier. Thanks, for helping us."

"Sorry," Nares echoed, holding his aching belly.

"Yeah, well I'm pretty glad I didn't each lunch now," Vez said.

The doors opened and Spree came out, glancing over at them.

"Oh, Private Vez, I see you brought them here. Well done." Spree patted Gren and Nares' shoulders as she passed. "You two head on in, Fleck and Hade got sick too. Take care. I expect to see you all Friday morning."

"Aye..."

"Thanks, Commander..."

Gren and Nares both saluted her weakly before heading inside.

Spree waited for the doors to close before laying an arm around Vez's shoulders and leading her away.

"I swear, if something like this ever happens again, I'll be quitting so fast, Command will have to triple my pay before I ever agree to come back. Robots could blow up half the base, and I'd still say no until they agree to pay me more." She winked at Vez. "Don't tell anyone I said that."

"I won't," Vez assured her. "If I could, I would too."

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Spree said. "You're tough. You'll make it soon enough. Keep up the good work."

"Aye!"

Vez saluted her. With one last glance over her shoulder, she followed her commander.

#scat writing #tummy ache #scat kink #fart #tw scat #diarrhea #sick belly #tw emeto #tw vomit #vomiting

41 notes · View notes

darkdarkstucky · 2 years ago

Text

Enchanted, S. Rogers and C. Kent.

SUMMARY: In a world where Omega's were scant and decent alpha's even more so, you think you're one in a million to be in a relationship with Alpha's who not only take care of your every whims and need, but also love and respect you unconditionally. However, your marital bliss of two years is interrupted by the concept of ‘true mates’.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Clark kent.

Warnings: Cursing, Angst.

CHAPTER THREE

“Wake up, buttercup!” Natasha cheerily exclaims, clapping her hands together after successfully pulling back the curtains to let the sunshine in your desolate quarters. You groaned sleepily turning your head towards the other direction, until she peeled the covers back from you.

“Uh-uh, we are not letting you sleep in the bed for days on end again.” the red head tuts, pulling your limp arm and ushering you towards a seating position. “Today, we're going out and walking on sunshine vampy.”

“No. Let me wallow in doubt and sadness.” you whine, eyes shut. You were still in dreamland, nestled in the covers with the ac on full blast— and you could literally spend days in the bed it feels like. You were always so sleepy and tired.

Part of you blamed it on over-thinking. Your brain must have been fueling up for all of your racing thoughts. Or it was only during sleep that you weren't thinking anything.

“Can't. The sun is up and the day is to be conquered. Where's your fucking spirit?”

“Oh wait! I remember where i left it, let me check.” you wiggled, making her hold loosen before you dived back into the sheets.

Comfy. So so nice.. you rub your face in Clark's pillow, sighing out in bliss. Just as you were about to doze off again..

“Nat!” you bellow, feeling yourself get lifted off the bed and towards the en suite.

“We're going out and fucking things up dollface! No excuses!”

☁️

“I feel like richard gere and you're my bitch- well, technically not one, but you get my point.” Nat nonchalantly puts down the menu, staring at you from across the table.

There was an astounding array of shopping bags placed neatly along the floor, both of you going haywire on different shops and swiping daddy's plastics, and only when you calmed down did you realize how much clothes you bought.

You'd feel bad, yet both Steve and Clark had gaslighted you early on that it isn't real money princess. So you went on your merry way each time and thought as if you were only playing pretend.

“Why can't i be a bitch?” you mutter, inbetween bites of garlic bread, basically inhaling the small tray of decadent pastry. It was crunchy, and soft on the inside with hints of melted cheese. Ohmy, you wanted to gobble it up.

Nat looked at you as if you were stupid. “Because.. you're rainbows, and butterflies and shiny shimmering glitter.”

You made a face, “You're saying i'm made of nice things? Aww, naty.”

“Yes, and if i put you in my mouth, you'll melt like a cotton candy.” she flippantly voices, which made both of you stare at eachother— silent and intent gazes, before bursting into laughter. Giggling at the unknown double entrede.

“Hello, madamme.” Your head snaps towards a slightly familiar older man decked in a pristine suit, an easy yet flattering grin on his face. “How are you finding your lunch? Has anyone taken your order yet?”

“Oh, hey ben. It's pleasant, as it always is. We've actually just placed our orders,” You smile in response.

“Oh that's great! and you're here with Mrs. Barnes, i see.” He politely nods to the red head. “Will you be joining Mr. Kent at the second floor? He's got an entourage, but i doubt it's concerning business. It appears to be more casual.”

“Is that so? I mean, Clark did say something about a lunch. Who's he with?” Your mouth moves faster than you could think.

In reality, the only thing you've recieved from both of them were casual goodmornings and update as to where they were. Steve was in France, Clark said he was in Russia. Atleast, that was what they told you.

“The usual, madamme. A couple of security details, and a new secretary. She seems to be new, atleast from who Mr. Kent usually keeps in his payroll.” The host narrates, thinking nothing of it. Everyone was already well aware of how much you meant to your husbands— to the point where nobody would bat an eye if they were seen out with another woman. Nobody could possibly believe they would replace you.

And you hated to jump into conclusions, but why would he need to lie?

Your heart wanted to lurch out of your chest. Nat's clearing of her throat made you snap out of your spiral; and you schooled your features back into a cheery expression once again.

“Well, if Mr. Kent wouldn't mind our presence.”

☁️

“.. I was actually a scholar of Kent foundation. Can you believe it? Our fates, so intertwined. It was really as if we were meant to be.” Lois gushes, leaning over in her chair, looking at him as if she were about to jump his bones.

Frankly, it made him quite uncomfortable. Nothing about this - if you could even call it a date, it was more like a formal gathering or a meet of sorts that he was inclined to arrange- felt natural, nor right.

Clark wanted to rely on his base instincts for direction but he couldn't grope for a shred of connection. Not even a silver of fondness, which is strange, considering thag they were supposed to be compatible— the person oppsite of him bore the genetic compatibility, as per several tests.

Though, what she said piqued his interest. “Which part of town would you say?”

“Upper east side,” Lois responds. Clark shifted in his seat, a smile making it's way to his features which held a considerable sway in her judgement. He asks a few more questions in that honeyed voice of his, to which she absently replied at.

“Huh, would you look at that.” He leans back in his seat, gears in his head turning but he maintained an easy smile on his face, mirth dancing in the darkened blue of his eyes.

“How about i permanently move your residence in, say, one of my towers?” Lois' breath hitched at the proposal.

“I-i mean, sure if that's what you want.” she gathered herself for a while, before remembering to act bashful and blinking up at him rapidly, smiling coyly. “I'm yours afterall. Your mate.”

You can hear the jeers and the laughter, staying through the conversation, until you found yourself feeling literal pangs of hurt in your chest. Fuck. What does all of this mean?

“Let me kill this son of a whore,” Nat was about to angrily storm inside, but you managed to stop her, putting an arm out.

“Don't even bother.” you murmur, finding it hard to find your own voice. At that point, you felt almost numb— as if your brain was shutting down from what you've heard, finding it difficult to process at all.

You woke up with the hope of your marriage still intact. Thinking, rather stupidly, that this was just a rather difficult hurdle in your marriage. Thinking that perhaps, this was all just a big misunderstanding like what you were repeatedly assured of.

But this was beyond even your wildest dreams. Nothing made sense. It was as if your world was crashing down on you all at once. True mates? It mocks you repeatedly.

Steve and Clark told you that you were the one. You believed them, because why would they lie to you? They had no reason to!

To get in your pants, silly. The rational, or was it pessimistic part of you said.

You blinked away the tears, turning around, and indulging in the manical urge that clouded all your rationality— run.

So you fled.

539 notes · View notes

sunshiline-writes · 6 days ago

Text

A Rose Amidst Thorns #24: The Shroud of Death

Previous | Masterlist | Next

A/N: Hello everyone! We're here at the beginning of the end! I hope you enjoy this! Big thanks and shout out to Henry @whump-card and the bestie Ev for beta reading !! Work count: 6.1 K

CW: minor character death, blood, gore, blink and you miss it reference to noncon, broken bones, gunshots, some reference to OCD-like thinking, burning of a dead body

___

There is something about time that slows down when someone is waiting for something big to happen. The world moves differently: too slow and too fast all at once. Time was strange like that. Solomon realized that time was not something that you run out of, it was something that you run into. He was running into the grasp of time and at the end of the road, death waited with open arms.

Solomon felt as if he were running faster toward the end than he had ever before. There was an aching pit in his stomach as the days went by. He was allowed to stay with Miguel for most of them. There was something different about Miguel that he couldn’t quite place. Ever since those two days spent with a dangerously high fever, barely clinging to life, Miguel had awoken with a new rigor.

His mother used to tell Solomon a story—a story of a man who had walked in the underworld for a day and half. The man had seen the most damning things and the most beautiful things. He had been shown the worst to come and the best to come. Afterwards, the man had a choice: to live or to die.

The man chose to live.

There will always be good, the man had said, always bad, but the choice to live will always be the right one. To live is to suffer, his mother always said, but it also means to love. As long as you have love in your heart—be it for a person or for a thing—there is always room to live.

Solomon missed his mother. His family. Gods, he missed his little brother. It was half why he was agreeing to this plan. The prospect of leaving—of going to see his family again—was too good to pass up. There was also the idea of introducing Miguel and Henrietta to his family. What would he say?

“Hello, Amá, these are the people who saved my soul from darkness”? How do you introduce people who are part of your soul? Who came into your life when you were lost and brought you back from the inbetween?

Solomon had always been warned of the people who walked aimlessly, the wanderers who went nowhere, no direction. The people who went through life half dead. Solomon hadn’t realized he had become one until he’d met Henrietta. Henrietta, who pulled him back with her incessant questions and willingness to talk to him. No matter how hard he tried to ignore her, she never stopped trying. Eventually, she’d gotten through to him, brought him back. Brought back his soul, his willingness to tend to others. She had reminded him of his duty of care.

As a doctor, as a friend, as a person, Solomon had a duty of care. It was important. It was his reason, the reason he was still here and the reason why he still had people to love.

He often wondered if his mother was still alive to even meet Henrietta and Miguel. Solomon had been in his twenties when he left home, determined and on a mission. Now he was sixty-two and so tired. It was improbable that his mother was still alive. He dreamt of her in the form of an owl once, around ten years ago. Solomon had known in his heart after that dream that she was gone. She had passed on waiting for him. Visiting him in a dream as the omen of an owl with his mothers eyes. Owls were death, they were a sign of a death that had happened, or a death yet to come. He had woken from that dream crying. Solomon had prayed that she forgave him for leaving. It was never the plan to be gone so long.

Still, he liked to fantasize about that meeting. Perhaps even introducing Miguel as his son, Henrietta as his best friend. All of them were idle dreams, but dreams were still dreams, no matter how improbable. Years ago, he would have never thought this probable. He would have never dared to dream. Now dreams felt like all he had.

Solomon was waiting. Waiting for something big to happen. Watching and feeling. He knew it would never be in the daylight. Yet he still expected it to happen. The day had gone by too fast, too slow. He was running into the time at full speed and he could feel death lurking over his shoulders like a cloud. This would not be easy. But it was never supposed to be, was it? Life was never as simple as you wanted it to be. This was the one and only truth.

When the sun went down he had counted all the materials in his bag over and over, making sure that everything was there. He had a terrible fear that he hadn’t packed enough or that he’d forgotten something. Solomon kept counting, barely realizing that hours had ticked by. He had his herbs, his knives, his bandages and medicines. Why couldn’t he feel like it was enough? The world came to a close for a second. If he didn’t have one thing, just one, everything would go wrong, he was sure of it.

He didn’t look up until someone had knocked on the door. Three times. Henrietta.

“Come in,” he mumbled as he sorted his things on the bed again.

“Sol?” she asked, voice soft. “What are you doing?”

“I am making sure I have everything. If I miss anything...”

A hand gently grabbed his bicep and he turned toward her. He frowned as Henrietta gently smiled. “Do you want to list the materials for me? I can help make sure everything’s there.”

Some of the tension inside Solomon released.

“Yes, I would—” He paused for a moment. “—appreciate that.”

She nodded and sat on the edge of the bed, pointing and counting each item that he had on his list. When he was done she spoke:

“Everything’s here, Solomon.”

“Thank you, I just... am worried.”

“I know,” she said softly, “Everything’s here, you read it to me, I counted. It’s all here.”

Solomon nodded, starting to place it all back in the bag. All in place carefully, or else things would break and then it would be ruined again. Henrietta watched him, eyes soft. The knot that curled in his chest slowly unraveled itself as he sat down next to her on the edge of the bed. She grabbed his hand, placing it in her lap. Her thumb gently ran over the back of his hand. Henrietta took a deep breath and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Everything is going to work out the way it’s supposed to.”

Solomon wasn’t sure he was inclined to agree. He squeezed her hand, intertwining their fingers. She was his best friend. Perhaps in another life they were something akin to siblings. Or perhaps, in every other life, they were still best friends.

“I think everything will work out the way it will,” Solomon countered.

“But it will work out,” Henrietta finished. “Mm, it will.”

“Solomon, look at me.”

He followed the command easily and without fear. Solomon did not flinch when Henrietta unlocked her hand from his to cup his face. Gently, she ran her thumb over his cracked cheekbone that had sunken in. “Things will work out. We will make it. We are not alone here,” she said with such conviction, such determination, Solomon felt his soul become braver.

“You’re much too brave for your own good,” he replied, turning his face to lean more into her hand, bringing up a hand to cover hers. Her laugh sang in his ears. “I’ve been told that before.”

“Don’t let it go to your head now,” he chided softly.

“I’ve got to cook dinner. You know the signal, yes?” “I do.” “Good,” she said, slowly getting up. Then she reached for him and he bent down so she could kiss his forehead. “You’re ready, you’ve got this.”

Then she left, closing the door softly behind her.

Solomon felt like Death was no longer a cloud, but a shroud, right upon his shoulders.

***

Getting through dinner was a chore. Forcing himself to chew and swallow as Xavier read through the accounting books, going over the money. Xavier did not say a word over the course of dinner and neither did Solomon or Henrietta. The three of them ate in complete and utter silence until it was time to clean up. Xavier looked up as Solomon and Henrietta both stood, Solomon to retreat to his room for the night, and Henrietta to wash the dishes. They both stopped at the movement.

Xavier sat back and sighed.

“You know, if you got something to say to me why don’t you just say it?”

“No one has anything to say Xavier,” Henrietta attempted to soothe. The man shot her a look. No smile on his face as he closed the book he was writing in. He licked his lips. Hungry for something. Solomon wasn’t sure what.

“Solomon? You got something to say?”

“No,” Solomon said softly. “I am tired. I would like to go to bed.”

Xavier scoffed, leaning forward on the table, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t sure when Xavier last looked so tired. There was a thought, somewhere deep inside him, that Xavier was feeling guilty. Solomon was sure that was impossible. With everything he had done, the man was surely incapable of any emotion that wasn’t driven by anger.

“You’re getting old, ain't ya, Solomon? You won’t be around very much longer, will you?” “Xavi!” Henrietta exclaimed, as if it was something taboo to say.

Xavier raised a hand to shush her, his eyes fixated on Solomon.

Solomon stayed neutral, perfectly calm, staring back into the lifeless green eyes. His breathing stayed even and his hands stayed limp at his sides. The thing was, Xavier wasn’t wrong. He was sixty-two, far beyond his prime. Nearing the end of a road he never thought he’d ever walk. It might be in five years, it might be in a few months. His joints were creaky and his bones ached. Every moment was something he had to be careful with. Age did that, crept up without warning. Settled into your bones without permission. There was nothing anyone could do but accept the age and all its hardships as well as the gifts. To live was a gift, especially this long. His brother hadn’t gotten to this age, Terrance had barely gotten to nineteen, and Ximena had died young too. In truth, Solomon was very lucky to be at this age. To be here and alive to help the ones he loved escape from a monster.

“Perhaps not. But I am still here now. That’s all that matters, Xavier.”

“Yes. I guess so. Leave then, old man, go take your nap.”

“Everyone dies, Xavier,” Solomon said, before turning away. They would be leaving soon. Maybe not all of them would make it, but they were going to try, and perhaps that was enough.

***

He sat in his room for a long time lost in his own prayers. On his knees, hands on the bed. Begging the gods and God, to be merciful. His faith at times was the only thing that kept him upright. God would take care of him, so would the Earth. Solomon was changed, his soul spotted and dark, but he was going home. It had been a long time. Perhaps he would be forgiven when he was back at home. The Spirits would move through him and release him from his pain.

The smell hit him first, the burning wood. He lifted his head and stood up, grabbing his medical bag. The old leather was frayed and worn. But it was a gift from his teacher and he couldn’t bear to part with it. Solomon seemed to be stuck in the past, but the smell of smoke pushed him forward. As soon as he opened his bedroom door, there was a sound that wasn’t supposed to happen yet.

The sound of guns firing filled the air.

His heart stopped for a moment. This was not part of the plan; they were supposed to be as quiet as possible. The fire was supposed to be the only distraction. Something had gone horribly wrong here. The guns firing did not cover the sound of Xavier slamming open his bedroom door, pulling his trousers up and buckling his belt.

“What the fuck is happening?” Xavier screamed at Solomon.

“I don’t know—I smell smoke,” he lied easily, pretending not to feel queasy as Henrietta came out from behind Xavier, looking flush, pulling up her dress on her shoulder. “Are those gunshots?” she asked, staring at Xavier with big doe eyes. She seemed legitimately surprised, worry lining her face. It was right to do so. None of this was part of the plan. The beginnings of panic started in his chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Both of you, downstairs. Now,” Xavier commanded, voice tight with anger. He pushed Henrietta aside, going back into the bedroom. Probably into the closet where he kept the guns. Neither of them were inclined to argue. They hurriedly made their way down the stairs together, standing awkwardly in the living room. The air around them was tense and Solomon looked toward Henrietta, grabbing her hand tightly.

“Did something go wrong?” she whispered, anxiety making her voice shake. They snapped their heads in the same direction where there was a chorus of yelling and gunshots. “Oh God,” she said, stepping forward to go outside. As she made her way to the door, it swung open. Yardly stood there, rifle in one hand, panting heavily.

At the same moment, Xavier was walking down the stairs, footsteps angry, making the house creak. The house was angry too. The air was steaming with it. Or perhaps it was Solomon’s own fear making him slick with sweat. “What is happening?” Xavier growled to Yardly. “We’re under attack, sir—people are at the stables, they’re on fire. Horses everywhere, people shooting. It’s fucking war out there.”

Xavier’s eyes flashed dangerously as he moved through the living room, holding his own rifle, pistol already in its holster at his hip. “Yardly, stay here with them, make sure they don’t make a move. They try, shoot Solomon.” “Sir, I should be out there with you,” Yardly tried to argue, but Xavier was already out the door, slamming it behind him. Xavier was walking toward the smoke, toward the screaming and the guns and everything that was ever going wrong.

“FUCK!” screamed Yardly, pacing around. “He really wants me to babysit while my men are out there, fighting some kinda bandits.” Yardly stopped, turning toward them, lifting his rifle to point at them. The safety clicked off. “I should just kill the both of you, save me the trouble. I could say you guys tried to attack me. I had no choice.”

“Then you would die,” Solomon said simply, the hand not holding the bag, raising in surrender. “He would kill you and it would mean nothing. You can go, we won’t stop you.” “But you’ll leave and I’ll die anyway,” Yardly growled.

“You can leave too. You don’t have to work here,” Henrietta chimed in, eyes wide. “He’s gone mad, you know that. He’s not fit to lead. You’ve been leading the others for a while now, Yardly. You don’t have to be under his thumb.”

The man stayed there for a second, thinking hard, actually contemplating their words for a moment. Solomon knew how hard it was to choose. Especially because Yardly had been here for nearly as long as Solomon, give or take a few years. Solomon and Yardly knew him before Ximena died, they knew him when he was still charming and full of life. When he gave as much as he took. When Xavier could hide himself as a good man. Xavier wasn’t always like this. None of them were who they were twenty years ago. Xavier had been kind once. Well, maybe not kind, but he had a respect for people, was able to form a connection and create an understanding. He’d been decent—to them at least.

“I know, Yardly. The loyalty is still there, I feel it too. But he’s not who he was. You don’t have to let him keep destroying himself, or you, just because he gave you a job and shelter.”

Yardly looked up, narrowing his eyes. He slowly started to lower the gun, standing up straighter. There was a blink of understanding in his eyes.

There was a movement from behind Yardly, something that Solomon couldn’t quite parce out quick enough.

“Jesse, no—!” Henrietta screamed, before blood splattered over Solomon's face.

His ears rang as he stumbled backwards, hearing the body collapse to the ground. Jesse stood where Yardly had spinning his pistol before putting it back in his holster. He immediately bent down to grab the rifle that had clattered to the floor and unholstered Yardly’s pistol. Solomon felt numb, his fingers went to the wet blood on his face. Eyes staring at the limp body that was on the floor. Someone who he knew, someone he’d sparked multiple conversations. A memory of trying to keep men alive during the war shocked his body into numbness.

Yardly was dead.

“He was never gonna let you go,” Jesse stated matter-of-factly. “He was gonna kill you either way.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I- why?” Henrietta and Solomon spoke at the same time.

Jesse flipped Yardly’s gun in his hand and walked over to Henrietta, holding the gun out to her by the handle. “I just knew.”

Henrietta was enraged, Solomon could see it as she grabbed the pistol from Jesse’s hand harshly. Looking at the bullets inside as she clicked the revolver back in place.

“He was listening to us,” Solomon said, voice cracking.

“No he wasn’t.” Jesse muttered. “We gotta go now. Isabella and Joseph are waitin’ with the wagon roun’ back. If you want to get Miguel any time soon, then we gotta go now.”

Solomon stared at the blood pooling around Yardly’s head. Lifeless body on the floor. There was a deep ache in his soul. Grief? Guilt? Yardly was dead—Solomon had to accept that and move on.

His grip on his medical bag tightened. Pushing away the feeling of darkness in his chest, he nodded. Jesse stood up and pulled a small bottle of kerosene from his bag. He poured it on and around Yardly’s body, expression grim and serious. Then he lit the match. “We have to go,” he said, flicking the match at the body. It exploded in flames and both Solomon and Henrietta stepped back, eyes wide. They stared, mouth agape, as the fire spread. Then Solomon started moving. They needed to leave before the fire consumed them, too.

Henrietta’s breathing was ragged, but she followed as Solomon and Jesse made their way to the back door, which Jesse held open for them. The wagon was waiting there and a blonde woman jumped from the front, and Henrietta was running as well. They met in the middle, hugging each other tightly. It was only a second before they moved to the wagon together getting in the back. Jesse shoved Solomon forward.

“Come on old man, fucking move.”

Solomon ignored the pang of hurt that hit his chest at the harsh words. Forcing himself to move, he climbed into the back of the wagon.

“Go! Go! Go!” Jesse hissed as he jumped into the back, as he readied the rifle. “They’re everywhere.”

They moved with a jolt and the raging fire came into view from behind the house. Horses ran amok, kicking up dust, smoke thick in the air. The stables were just fire, orange and yellow flames wild as the fences caught fire too. Ranch hands were shooting wildly at the desert around them or trying to catch the horses that had run. The world was on fire. The night sky was covered by smoke. Nothing would ever be the same.

The wagon jumped and creaked under the harsh treatment as they came to a halting stop in front of the barn. “Jesse–-” Solomon started.

“Comin’,” Jesse said, hopping off the wagon as Solomon clambered down. God he was old. Solomon shouldn’t be doing this at his age, but they hurried inside, Jesse leading him up to the hayloft. Each step up the ladder made Solomon's knees creak and he panted when they got to the top.

“Oh, I see,” said a voice from in front of him. Not Miguel. Miguel didn’t speak. Solomon looked up from the ground and saw Xavier near Miguel’s cot, hand tightly fisting Miguel’s hair in one hand while the other hand held a pistol up to the bottom of his jaw. Miguel was breathing hard, tears streaming down his face. He was still, seemingly paralyzed by fear. Solomon locked eyes with him and he tried to open his mouth.

“I fucking knew it was you, Solomon,” Xavier spat, craning Miguel’s head back so he was only looking at the rafters, adams apple on display. Vulnerable.

“Xavier, let him go,” Solomon said slowly, tasting bile. Jesse was quiet. Solomon knew he was fighting some internal battle. He would not expect any action from the boy next to him. His gun was raised but his finger was off the trigger.

“Just let him go,” Solomon repeated.

“Did you really think this was going to work? Setting my buildings on fire? My home? My stables? Did you think you’d burn everything and not face any consequences? I thought you were smarter, Solomon.” Xavier spat toward Jesse. “And you, you definitely know better, boy.” Jesse swallowed, stepping toward Xavier, finger shakily moving to the trigger.

“Tio–-” Jesse started, only to stop himself when Xavier dug the gun further into Miguel’s jaw. It sprung a whimper from Miguel. Solomon felt his heart drop to his feet with the sound. He should have expected this: for Xavier to go to Miguel first. He was the perfect hostage, small, young. No one wants to see a kid die.

“Shut the fuck up,” Xavier snapped, vitriol dripping from every word. “Xavier–-” Solomon started and the gun cocked.

“If you don’t want mutt brains all over this barn, both of you will shut up and listen,” Xavier growled out.“Put your guns on the floor and kick them toward me.”

Jesse’s face morphed into a snarl as he dropped the rifle, kicking it over full force like a child throwing a tantrum. He unholstered his pistol and tossed that over with a dull thud on the wood. Solomon slowly raised his hands again, forcing himself to keep his expression neutral.

“I don’t have a gun,” Solomon said, voice steady.

“Of course you fucking don’t.”

Solomon had never used a gun before, and he wasn’t going to start now, especially not if he was going to prove Xavier wrong. There were lines he would not cross, that was not a weakness, it was a strength. It was his only strength. He found himself shrugging slightly in response.

The gun slowly uncocked and moved away from Miguel’s jaw. The hand gripping his hair relaxed, letting Miguel face them again. He was crying, tears streaking down his face. His breath shuddering, eyes glancing up to Xavier every second or two. It was a standstill for a slow second, everything freezing in place. The world had stopped spinning, allowing them all a moment to breathe. A moment to think.

“You can let him go,” Solomon breathed. “You can let him go now, you have our guns. Please, just let him go.”

Xavier looked at him. His eyes were no longer green, they were black holes. They were graves. He was going to bury all of them. The man took a step back and a slow smile crept onto his face. “No, no I don’t think I will, Solomon.” The gun was now pointed at them. More accurately, it was pointed directly at Solomon.

Solomon started to pray inwardly. Creator, help us.

Frantically, Miguel twisted in Xavier’s grasp, turning his head downward to the forearm that was around his throat and bit down. Xavier screamed. The gun went off. Solomon's world staggered to the right and fell downward. Solomon was on his hands and knees, his eyes were on the floor and it took a moment to realize he was still alive. Jesse was the one screaming, falling backwards. Scampering toward the wall. The realization hit Solomon that Jesse had pushed him out of the way of the bullet's trajectory, getting himself shot in the process. “Jesse—,” Solomon called out, but a scream distracted him.

The scream itself was muffled as Miguel had latched onto Xavier’s forearm. Blood dripped down his chin and he released the bite to turn around and shove Xavier backwards. The man staggered away, starting to raise the gun again. God, Solomon would never make it.

He had to try. He had to try.

Creator, give me strength. It was like his body was not his own as he pushed himself to his feet and raced to Xavier and Miguel, who stood frozen at the sight of the gun being pointed at him. Solomon’s body collided with Xavier's, knocking them both off their feet. The collison rattled his bones and the gun went off again missing its mark. Solomon’s hands went to the gun in an attempt to wrestle it away, ignoring the throbbing in his shoulder, ignoring every screaming instinct as he knocked the gun out of Xavier’s grip and it clattered a few feet away. They were a tangled mess of limbs and desperation as they both reached for the gun. There was blood everywhere, Solomon didn’t know whose it was. Xavier was draped over him, reaching, reaching.

Solomon was reaching too, and as his fingertips touched the gun, so did Xavier’s. Fingers managed to get the handle—Xavier’s fingers—and Solomon yelled in frustration.

He threw his elbow back into Xavier’s nose, causing the man to scream indignantly as blood flowed from his face and onto Solomon’s hair. He could feel it dripping down his neck, down his braids. Solomon pushed farther, his own hand reaching out and wrenching the gun from Xavier’s hand. He used all his strength to move his body to the side to throw Xavier off him. Xavier and him were on their sides, but Solomon was slower in getting up. Xavier clambered on top of him and gripped the wrist that was holding the gun tightly, bashing it on the floor. Solomon let it go, hearing his wrist crack under the force. His throat was raw with the scream he let out.

Where was Miguel? Was he going to see this? See his death? No child should watch their father-

The barrel of the gun pressed to his forehead, hot and heavy.

Creator, protect him…

Solomon did not close his eyes. He stared at the barrel of the gun. A bubble of hysteria made him laugh, feeling lightheaded. Was this really how he was going to die? On the floor, Xavier pressing a gun to his forehead? “Any last words, Solomon?”

A figure was behind Xavier. It looked like death. Was it for him? Where were Miguel and Jesse? Were they watching this?

“Don’t hurt my boy,” was all he could come up with.

He heard Xavier laugh and he stared at the graves in Xavier’s eyes. “Please, let him live.”

The gun cocked with a click.

Solomon did not close his eyes. If he was to die, he would stare it in the face. This time, Solomon would not cower. He would not falter. For once in his life, he would be brave. Perhaps Jesse and Miguel had left. They had been smart and just left. Solomon had been a good distraction. They could get away. It was the best case scenario.

The figure behind Xavier moved, the shovel coming down, and Solomon jerked to the side out of pure instinct. The shot rang out at the same time the shovel hit between Xavier’s shoulder blades. Solomon’s world went white, his left ear ringing loudly. Everything spun for a moment, his thoughts swimming in circles around him. Everything was doubled, Xavier was off of him. Another thud and another and another; hits—they were solid hits, full of power. Solomon turned over on his stomach, gathering his knees under him and emptied his dinner onto the floor. Bile and blood in his mouth.

He managed to lift his head, feeling something wet drip down his ear. Solomon reached up and touched his ear; blood was on his fingers. Everything was still ringing. The world swinging like a pendulum. Someone was in front of him and he jerked back, looking up to see brown eyes. Miguel. He was here. Why was he here?

“Miguel,” he choked out. Miguel didn’t respond, he just slotted an arm around Solomon’s waist and yanked him up on his feet. They staggered together to the ladder, Miguel making Solomon go down first. He half fell, missing a leg of the ladder, and stumbling down to the ground, using one of the pillars to hold himself up. Again, he retched on the ground, half leaning on the pillar. Solomon shook his head, opening and closing his eyes, trying to shake off the disorientation. Someone was talking to him, but it was muffled, sounding like he was underwater. “What?” he asked dumbly, being met with more words but none of them made any sense. They all jumbled in the air in front of him. Jesse was on the ground, hands pressed to a wound on his thigh. His eyes were wild as he continued to talk at Solomon, who couldn’t hear anything past the ringing in his ears. “What?” he asked again.

Miguel was back in his view, signing to him. Frantically asking if he was okay. Then he was wrapping an arm around Solomon, half dragging him, half helping him back to the wagon.

When they exited the barn, a man met them, talking at them. “You Solomon and Miguel?”

Solomon laughed deliriously and with a broken voice answered, “Yes. That’s us. There’s another boy in the barn, he needs help.”

“Got it. Wagon’s waiting, go get on it.”

God—everything was muffled, his ears were ringing. Miguel kept them moving and when they came to the wagon, Henrietta was under his arm. She was helping carry his weight as they moved. She was okay. She had waited for him.

Solomon found himself grateful to have so many people in his life that cared. That loved him enough to stay in the middle of a war. Things like this had the tendency to bring out the best and worst of people. He was so used to seeing the worst, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to see the good. Hope was crawling its way out of his spotted soul and settling into his bones instead.

They helped him onto the wagon where he collapsed. Breath heaving. The sound of guns and yelling were muted. For a moment the world closed in on Miguel. He was alive. He was more than that. Miguel saved him.

Creator, thank you.

Miguel saved him. There was a delirious laughter that escaped him. The thought of that happening a year ago would have been impossible. Before that, the boy was a shell. A shadow of his former self. Since that fever, since Xavier broke his body, he’d been different. He went on a spirit walk and came out stronger. Pride swelled in his chest. Perhaps he’d let himself believe that Miguel was someone that he could call a son.

“Solomon? You okay?” Henrietta asked, eyes searching over him. “You have blood everywhere.”

“We need to go,” he said, “Xavier is in the barn, he’s...”

“He’s not there anymore,” said someone from behind Henrietta, the man from a moment ago, he was helping Jesse into the wagon. “We gotta go—the hands are coming round the back. Go, go.” The wagon started to move, the world lurching forward. He pushed himself to a sitting position, looking over at Jesse. Jesse’s face was pale, but he shot Solomon a thumbs up, before aiming his rifle. The man who helped him also pointed a rifle. They aimed toward the barn, toward the fire. Solomon could see the ranch hands, coming out from all angles, pointing their guns at their wagon, toward their horses. “We’ll cover you! Go faster.”

The wagon jerked and they were moving faster. Smoke and bullets through the air felt lighter somehow as they made their way through the desert. Soon enough the sounds died low, the hands seemingly far enough behind that they stopped chasing them. The air cleared, but Solomon's left ear was still ringing. Everything was still muffled on that side. The gunshot right next to his head must have damaged the eardrum. The ringing would probably never go away.

As they got farther, Miguel began looking over Solomon, splinting his wrist with Henrietta’s help. Jesse had finally got the sense in him to sit back and look at his wound. The boy had taken a bullet for him. Solomon, after he was splinted, smiled.

“Help Jesse,” he said, and they both gave him an incredulous look. “Help him—he saved me.”

Miguel’s face morphed into a snarl as he shook his head. Henrietta on the other hand nodded, going over to Jesse to go and look at the wound. Solomon gently put his good hand around Miguel’s elbow. The boy shrugged him off, moving toward the other end of the wagon, letting a leg hang off it, the other leg pulled close to his chest. His heart ached for him. Solomon tried not to be hurt by the gesture, knowing that Miguel was nowhere near healed. His heart was cut open and bruised still. Solomon still felt slightly hurt by the gesture.

Eventually the wagon slowed to a stop. The world seemed to as well. It was quiet. The sun was rising, casting everything in a pale yellow light. The clouds were red and intense. He was able to actually sit with it.

How long had it been since he’d been off the ranch? Off the ranch with the idea that he would not be going back? More than twenty years of being stuck in a ritual. It was all new, all different.

The birds sang.

Solomon’s chest was opening and he could feel the light pouring through.

Solomon was finally above ground. He could breathe. He realized there were more people with them than he originally bargained for. Isabella sat at the front seat of the wagon with another man he didn’t know. There was Joseph, who was helping Henrietta with Jesse. Then three other men on horses behind them. It was almost surprising how many there were. He had expected less. But he’d always been a little inclined to underestimate Henrietta. She had done this, made all of this happen. He was proud. Solomon was proud of all of them. Henrietta came back to him, hands bloody from Jesse’s wound. She stared down at Solomon with a smile. It turned into a look of surprise, then intense grief.

She started to cry, fully sobbing and the wagon was silent as she did. No one said a word, nor looked too long. Henrietta leaned down and wrapped her arms around Solomon's neck, burying her face into a shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her.

When the sobbing quieted down, Henrietta finally spoke.

“We did it... We’re out. We’re out.”

They were still running, but she was right. They were out. This was the new beginning. They were on their way to a new life, a better one. It was enough to allow a moment of happiness. Henrietta deserved to be happy about this.

Everything Solomon had ever done since he met her and Miguel—it was all for them. It had always been for them.

“We’re out,” he agreed. “Everything is going to work out the way it’s supposed to.”

It always did.

It would right now.

There was hope here. They created it themselves, and they could only create more. Solomon knew he could, knew that Henrietta and Miguel could. Even Jesse. They had all crawled out of the graves that Xavier had dug for them, and now they were above ground. Everything they had ever been through, ever done. It had not killed them. It had made them different, they were not without darkness in their souls. But they were still here.

Maybe, just maybe, that was enough. ___

TAGLIST:

@demondamage @burntcoffeewhump @angst-after-dark @just-a-silly-little-whumper @tictac-murder-spaghetti @crash-bump-bring-the-whump @whumpifi

@flowersarefreetherapy @badgerwhump @whumpbees @whumplr-reader @cyberwhumper @kixngiggles

ask if you'd like to be added or removed!!

#whump #whumpblr #sunshine writes whump #poc whump #a rose amidst thorns #minor character death #gore #blood #gunshots #broken bones #burning of dead bodies #escape attempt #we're almost at the end can you believe it?#I hope you all enjoy

13 notes · View notes

igotanidea · 1 year ago

Text

Christmas market : TASM! Peter x reader

Christmas bingo day 3 : christmas market

***

Christmas market in new York was, hands down, one of the best in the world. At least that was what Peter kept on telling his girlfriend, while nearly dragging her to it. Y/n was not the greatest fan of spending time in the crowd of people, due to her shyness and a bit of social anxiety, but had to relent when he gave her that pretty begging smile. How could she possibly say no to the friendly neighbourhood Spiderman after all.

Besides, after spending an hour circling around the stalls and looking at all those Christmas decoration, she slowly started to change her mind and getting into the Christmas spirit. All to Peter's amusement, especially when she absentmindedly started humming a Christmas song coming from the speakers.

"What?" She chuckled biting on her chocolate covered strawberry "you wanted me to have fun, wish granted."

"You're so out of tune!" he grinned fixing her scarf making sure she was not cold and the simplicity and care coming from this gesture made her eyes sparkle at him. But there was no way she was going to let him win this one.

"oh, I'm out of tune now? And who are you to judge me, bugboy? Vivaldi?"

"nah, I'm just the boyfriend, who heard you singing under the shower enough times to actually get an opinion".

"hey! What happened to friendly neighbourhood spi-?"

Before she could finish the sentence he leaned forward and kissed her making it impossible to reveal his secret identity. And, knowing how sensitive Peter was with keeping it on the DL, she might have done this on purpose.

"you'll be the death of me y/n" he pulled back after a while but still keeping her in his protective embrace. It was like the world around them stopped existing for a while as they both got lost in each other's eyes.

"Don't worry, not gonna happen. You got enough villains coming at you as it is. However, while we're on the subject of risking lifes- how about we take a ride on the wheel? Id love to see the city panorama from up there" she looked up at the night sky illuminated by the stars.

"actually I got a better idea..."

***

A few minutes later they were swinging in the air on Peter's spiderweb. Y/n closed her eyes, grabbing onto him with one hand, clutching her cap with the other, barely holding back from screaming. She should have been used to this form of transportation by this time but it always made her want to throw up. Especially since he never gave her a warning, just scooping her up in his arms and taking off like a freaking fly and not a spider.

"dont worry y/n. Not letting you fall." Peter said his voice distorted by the mask. "besides, you said you wanted to see the city panorama, didn't you?" He laughed as they landed keeping hands on her waist preventing her from getting dizzy and falling down.

"And you took that as a hint to show off." She scoffed struggling to find the balance even despite his firm grip. "I wanted to have some Christmas atmosphere but it didn't mean swinging by the rooftops and - oh!"

She stopped abruptly when Peter grabbed her chin softly and turned her head to the side of the Christmas market below them.

Multicoloured lights everywhere, crowd of people walking in many different directions, Christmas music that could be heard even up high, ice rink, wheel and the huge christmas tree sparkling in the dark really did bring up a Christmas atmosphere. And Peter knew she liked the view from here much more than she would appreciate it from the carousel.

"show off..." She muttered again raising on her tiptoes and pecking his cheek causing him to grin like a teenager in love.

"hey did you get me that -?"

"i did. You couldn't be more obvious"

Of course he had an hidden agenda, when he made her walk past the same gift stall four times in fifteen minutes talking about the gift choosing and how much easier it would be to actually be told what the bestowed person wanted. So yes, it was pretty easy to take the hint.

"can I get my present now then?" Peter asked with eyes glistening with excitement

"here" she leaned forward and kissed him again.

"not that I'm complaining but--"

"not before Christmas eve"

"but y/n!!"

"with great power comes great responsibility." She laughed

"what does that have to do with -?"

"I hold power over your heart so I'm responsible for the even distribution of the gifts. Kiss for now, package for later."

#spider man x reader #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter fluff #spiderman fluff #christmas bingo

86 notes · View notes

moderndaycassandra · 1 year ago

Text

We're both on the sidewalk, walking opposite directions, about to pass each other.

I look at your hair, gently flowing behind as you walk. I try to turn my gaze away, desperate to not seem like I'm staring, but it's too late. You've already noticed, and as you look me over you spot the lesbian flag pin on my purse. You smile to yourself and slow your pace so our pass takes longer. "I like your pin." you say with a hint of playfulness, pointing to my purse. I follow your finger to the flag and blush "Oh, uh, th-thanks. I like your hair." I stutter, face glowing red. You offer a cheeky smile as we walk by, and I turn my gaze to the sidewalk to hide my rosy cheeks.

The next day, we're at the same place again walking opposite directions. We offer another round of simple greetings and compliments. "Good morning!" "It's a cold one today." "Nice shirt, love that band." "New shoes?" This proceeds every day until the seventh. This time, you come to a full stop. "So, where are you headed?" you ask, taking a couple of steps backwards to stay next to me as I slow my pace and look up, meeting your eyes. They shine with sincerity. "Oh, uh, just getting coffee. There's a little cafe just up the road." Taking the unspoken invitation, you turn on your heel and begin to walk with me. "Yeah? Let me guess, Rose's Garden?" "Uh-huh. The one with the cat." "Mind if I tag along?" My brain bursts into flame as my face erupts a beautiful shade of red. I pull my scarf up nonchalantly to try and cover up. "S-sure." We walk in silence for a couple of steps before you grow bored of it. "So. You go to school here?" "N-no. My friend does and they needed a roommate, so I moved in with them. What about you?" "Yeah. Not quite sure what I want though. Just taking gen-ed for a year or two while I figure it out. I think I want to do something with biology maybe." "Heheh, I'm sure you'll....figure it out." My heart is beating so hard I'm surprised you haven't commented on the noise.

We arrive at the coffee shop and order our drinks. We take a table by the window and talk for twenty minutes or so between sips. We talk about our interests, make jokes, and slowly realize we have a lot in common. This becomes our new daily routine. We walk to the cafe, get coffee, and chat for a while, every day. At some point, we trade phone numbers and begin texting during our free time. Every time I see that little (1) pop up on my phone, the flame of passion ignites; I've just gotten a bit more used to it. After a couple of weeks, we start hanging out. You come to my apartment and I introduce you to my roommate, the next week I come to your house and meet your cat. At some point, we start going out. We never say the word date, but you don't go to roller rinks, mini-golf, cinema, attend weddings, and go to fancy dinners if you're just friends. At least, not this frequently, right?

A year or so later, we're lying on our backs on a grassy hill. The ground is chilled from the autumn air, but that doesn't dissuade us. Our laughter dies down from the last joke you told as we stare at the clouds. I point one out that looks like a giraffe, your favorite animal. I turn my head to see if you're looking. And you are, but not at the cloud, you're looking at me. That same sparkle in your eyes and joy in your smile. "I love you." you say quietly. We've both said it before, plenty of times. But always as friends, purely platonic. This time, it's different. Something about those three words feels different. You mean it. "I-" my throat goes dry, the flame in my brain erupts into an inferno and my arm goes limp, dropping into the grass. The edges of my vision fade away as I stare into your eyes. My face grows redder than it ever has before, only this time I don't try to hide it. "I love you too." You reach an arm behind my head and I reach behind your back as we pull each other close. Time loses all meaning as our lips meet and we kiss for the first time. The singular moment feels like it lasted an eternity, yet it wasn't nearly long enough. You pull away, leaving our lipsticks smeared and mixed.

The next year goes by fairly slowly, not too different from the first. Only now, we're not just friends, we're partners. You're my girlfriend, and I'm yours. The passion and excitement still hasn't died down. Years go by, you graduate college and get a job. I go back to school and get my degree. We have two kids and we watch as they grow up and go through school and find themselves partners, just as we found each other. Decades later, one of us dies, leaving the other alone. Which one is which? It doesn't really matter. By this point, our selves are so ingrained into each other that we're incomplete, merely two parts of a whole, but one part is missing. It isn't long before the other passes, and we rejoin in eternity, a loving embrace that lasts forever.

Then, I blink. We're back on the sidewalk that first day and I'm staring at your hair. You notice, then look at my purse. You open your mouth as if to say something, but decide against it.

We pass each other in silence.

#lgbtqia #lesbian #wlw #sapphic #pride #queer #lesbian yearning #sapphic yearning #wlw yearning

82 notes · View notes

thesunhatesme · 8 months ago

Text

Day 12 - First time

Thanks again for putting mushy may together @forlorn-crows! Wc:700 First time Phantom gets a haircut

Cirrus watched as Phantom struggled with getting his hair out of his face while playing on his switch. It was starting to get long, almost past his shoulders, and it clearly bothered him. She walked over to him and brushed his hair out of his face for him. “You okay, Bug?” She asked. Phantom paused his game and turned to look at her. “No, I can't see anything because my hair won't stay in place!” He told her as he put the switch away. “How about a haircut?” She suggested. Phantom thought about it. He’d never had a haircut before, but his hair was always in his eyes and it was impossible to manage. “I guess” He sighed, pulling his hair back, “Who will cut it?” He then asked. Cirrus smiled, bouncing on her feet “I'll cut it, I cut the others hair all the time” she said excitedly “I’ll do it now if you want”

She pulled him to her bathroom and sat him down on the counter so he was facing the mirror. She pulled out one of the drawers and started taking out everything she would need while Phantom tried to decide how he wanted his hair. Deciding what hairstyle he wanted was proven to be very difficult, he just wanted less hair and he didn't really know how he wanted it to look.

“Okay, so how do you want your hair?” She asked as she started combing through it with her fingers. I don't know, just shorter and out of the way” He asked more than said, wringing his hands together in his lap. “Okay, we can do that, but I need a bit more, like, do you want it all gone or just a trim?” Phantom looked down, he really didn't know, well, he knew he didn't want it all gone, but just less hair and for it to look good. “I want to have hair left that looks good, you decide how to make it look good though” He didn't want to think about it more, there were too many options and he couldn't decide. “That I can do” She said as she started holding up his hair in different directions, looking and measuring it.

“I'm just gonna wet your hair a bit, so it's easier to cut, okay?” She made sure to tell him what she was going to do, so he wouldn't get scared or overwhelmed by everything new. Phantom nodded and she started spraying his hair and brushing it. When it was untangled and knot-free she started combing through it and cutting the ends off, chicking in with Phantom every step of the way. She cut some layers and cut his bangs to frame his face in a nice way. He had quite wavy hair naturally, so layers suited him very well.

When the cutting was done, it was time to make his neck look sharp. “This might tickle a bit and be a little noisy” She warned before she started. Phantom giggled as she cleaned his neck up, the buzzing tickling.

“We’re almost done, but would you like some temporary color in your hair?” She asked, holding up a purple, a blue and a red color. Phantom wanted to and decided to color the white in his hair purple. He loved his white, but purple would be fun to have.

Cirrus put the hair dye in her hand and started applying it in his bangs, making sure every white hair turned out purple. They let the color sit while Cirrus cleaned up everything she wouldn't need any more and when the timer rang, they rinsed it out. She blow dried his hair and made sure to give it volume and style it a little bit extra.

“And we're done…” She said as she held a mirror up behind him. “What do you think?” Phantom stared at himself in the mirror. There was way less hair than before and it wasn't in his eyes, but it still had length. “Wow, it looks amazing Cirrus!” He said as he hoped down from the counter. “Thank you so much!” He crashed into her in a hug, continuing to thank her.

#mushy may 2024 #phantom ghoul #cirrus ghoulette #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #tshm writing #ghost fanfiction

20 notes · View notes

xxsycamore · 1 year ago

Text

One Hot Love

╰┈➤ 📸 Because we're not ready to let go of summer just yet.

Fenrir Godspeed x Main Character + Fenrir/Alice/Ray/Sirius/Luka/Seth • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Polyamory; they're all dating; but focus is on fen/alice; Beach Sex; Road Trips; modern elements; i gave them cars and car radios basically; Skinny Dipping; Water Sex; Vaginal Sex; getting caught; Outdoor Sex; Banter; Black Army polycule • wordcount: 1,780 • masterlist

a/n: That was me paying homage to the passing summer WHAT HAPPENED, WHY COUDN'T I POST THIS ANY SOONER? Anyway, One Hot Love by Makoto Matsushita was THE summer song for me this year, and at one point it aligned with my ikerev nostalgia so here we are... always wanted to write a black army polycule <3

"Man, that song is stuck in my head now. Putting the only CD we could find on repeat was no doubt better than going the whole drive without any music on, but…"

"What are you talking about, you could have listened to Seth's melodic voice instead~!" Alice gawks, a hand over her heart in a display of affection that seems to be aimed at riling Fenrir up. Though, knowing how the 10 of Spades has her head over heels for him, Fenrir won't be surprised if that's her genuine reaction to listening to the man's monologues for four hours straight. And despite that they all love Seth, Fenrir is sure that in this aspect Alice is alone.

They came here with the rest of the officers and the King to check out what was reported to be a group of disciples from the Magic Tower disrupting the peace around the coast. Ray insisted on checking it out personally and the others kind of tagged along and from there it turned into a (work) road trip.

"Uhuh. Either way, boss looked like he's seconds away from taking the gun from my holster and aiming it at the car radio."

"He wasn't even the one driving, though… Was he too sleepy or something? We did get here only after it got dark yesterday but I thought it wasn't past his bedtime…"

"Pfft, sounds like him! But no. I know what got him so worked up but I won't tell ya~"

"Feeeeen! C'mon!"

Stopping in her tracks for a second, Alice lets out a deep sigh when the Ace just keeps taking long strides across the sandy path, refusing to satiate her curiosity. Letting out a loud "Hmph!" that falls on deaf ears due to the sea breeze surrounding them, Alice dashes forward to join Fenrir's side again, and keeps the pace until he's the one walking behind her instead.

A harsh and sudden gust of wind blows by, and Alice all but feels her uniform skirt flying upwards.

"Eeek!"

"Ohh, so you're wearing the pink ones! Nice!"

Putting her hands protectively on her rear as if they aren't the only two people on this beach to begin with, and as if Fenrir didn't just see everything there is to see, Alice throws him the best mean look she can muster before slowing her step so they're side by side again.

"Sorry for teasing ya. I promise I won't cheat if you want to play guess the panty color with the others tonight."

"It's really not about that!!" The focus of Alice's bewilderment quickly shifts from his ridiculous logic to the way he stops her right there and then for a kiss, full on the lips and tasting like the minty ice cream they shared awhile ago. She finds herself savoring his sweet lips, feeling the sun's warmth engulf them fully now that they stopped in their tracks.

"Ya know, I could really go for a swim right now."

Seems like he's not the only one feeling hot now.

"Just like that? Isn't the water cold…"

"One way to find out." Fenrir grins boyishly, the same smile she once fell for, and then kept falling for every day since then. Before she can even blink, Fenrir is already pulling his hoodie over his head and walking in the direction of the shore. Following the rush of wildness, Alice is no different as she gives into the moment, stripping down to her underwear. At least she diligently folds her clothes before putting them down on top of one of the nearby rocks, even if it means Fenrir would beat her at getting to the water first.

"Woohoo! Alice, come here! The water is perfect!"

Losing no more time to join Fenrir, Alice gives up on her cautious approach and lets the waves splash against her as she runs towards them, even when they make her squeal.

"Liar! It certainly is at least a little bit cold…"

"I gotcha."

Before she can complain more, Fenrir enfolds Alice in his toned arms from behind, acting like a big blanket.

"Fen… you're not wearing any underwear…"

"Yeah? Are you?"

Alice shivers as he runs one hand down to check, but the touch is more than welcomed, to her own surprise. She turns around in his arms and places hers around his neck, looking at his deep magenta eyes.

"Remember what you promised me a few months ago? About the next time we go to the beach together?"

"That I'm gonna finally have my way with you in the water like I always fantasized about? Why are you smirking at me like that now?"

Being called out on it, Alice's grin only transforms into a series of chuckles that she tries to hide against Fenrir's broad chest, hoping that he'd get the idea already.

"Alice, mind if I check once more if ya still wearing those pink panties? Just to make sure."

"F-Fen-!"

Receiving her affirmation in the form of her arms tightening their hold around his shoulders, Fenrir's calloused fingers find their way down the curve of her ass and between her legs. They slip under the thin material, crawling inside to find her dripping sex.

"Haah-"

"Still making sure, hold on."

His touch ghosts over her folds, his other hand joining on her front to stroke her clit inside her panties.

"What were ya asking about my promise to you?"

"Do you…think us coming here today counts? Ahh-"

Rubbing on her aroused nub with no remorse as if determined to make her explode on his fingers in mere seconds, Fenrir uses the proximity to the fullest as he nibs Alice's earlobe playfully.

"Do ya want it to count, Alice?"

It's a silly question, with how far they've already gotten. When they're together, it's always hard to say who started things first. The firm erection pressing flush against Alice's belly tells her they're not leaving the water without one last unforgettable summer memory.

"Make it count. I want you so bad."

"Hah! You finally said it." Fenrir chuckles, leaving a trail of wet kisses across her nape all the way to her lips, capturing them with his.

It serves as a distraction as he picks her up, making her instinctively wrap her legs around his torso.

"Hold on tight, Alice. I'm not stopping 'till you're seeing stars."

Running her fingers through the unruly locks at the base of his neck, Alice groans as she feels him guide the tip in, letting gravity do the rest as she sinks down on his girthy length with delight.

"Gods- Why haven't we done this before-"

"That's what I was asking! Ahhh- Fuck, Alice. I want you everywhere, all the time, what are you doing to me?"

Alice's hearty laughter is interrupted by the erratic moans ripped out of her throat by Fenrir's deep thrusts, and she knows perfectly how he feels.

"You can have all of me, Fen! I want you so bad! Ahhh-"

Moving her body up and down on his length at a rapid pace, Fenrir kisses every part of Alice he can put his lips on, her sun-kissed shoulders, her arms sprinkled with small seawater drops that are salty on his tongue, her nape with the sweet strawberry scent of her shampoo mixing with the sea breeze.

Alice sinks her nails into his shoulder blades, knowing how much he loves it when she does that, and lets herself go; the orgasm rushes through her body like a lightning strike, pleasure spreading hotly from deep inside her and making her whole body glow in ecstasy. She opens her eyes while throwing her head back, and takes in the endless blue sky above.

Fenrir keeps thrusting into her, making water splash around them as he whispers how close he is, how good she feels around him - and then he brings her down on him hard one last time, keeping her flush to him before filling her with his warmth.

With the cease of movement, they can finally enjoy the kisses they can't hold back from giving each other, the rustling of the sea drowning the little moans of afterglow that escape their thirsty lips. Suddenly feeling giddy again, Fenrir holds her up a little more and makes a little spin in the water, enjoying the girly squeal she lets out. It's only when she is turned to face the shore that she notices.

"Oh my god, that's Sirius and the guys!!"

"Huh?" Fenrir looks over his shoulder and indeed, he can see the figures of one man with his arms crossed on his chest and another three standing not far behind him. "Should we wave at them?"

"Hell no! C'mon, let's go!"

***

"We already ate without you, by the way."

"What?! Noooo! I'm never going patrolling with Fenrir again!"

While Alice laments the loss of her lunch, Seth is already there to squeeze himself between her and Fenrir the very second Alice lets go of Fenrir's hand.

"But Alice!~ Your knight in shining armor is here to save you from the brute, and he even packed you leftovers! I'm not letting my Alice die from hunger like that. Oh my, your face is so hot! Why haven't you put sunscreen on?"

"There he goes again…" Fenrir frowns, resorting to joining Ray's side instead, the latter patting his shoulder sympathetically. Returning the gesture by bringing his arm around Ray's shoulders in turn, Fenrir notices the label sticking out of Rey's uniform shirt.

"Oh? What do we have here?"

Upon tucking it back for him, Fenrir sees something curious and pulls a little more on the fabric, leaving a confused Ray as the group stops in their tracks.

"Hey Boss, since when are your initials S.O.?"

Seth is the first to grin knowingly, chiming in. "And aren't your sleeves a little too long?"

Luka inspects the truth of those remarks, blinking in question. "A mishap with the laundry?"

Seth trades his dear Alice's presence for that of Luka's, just so he can lean down and whisper something in his ear, shielding it with his hand while looking directly at Ray.

"That's- Hey. You two better keep your mouths shut, or- And Fenrir, we haven't finished with you yet. We talked about this."

"What? Fucking on the clock? Like hell we're the only ones doing that. Besides,"

Fenrir arrives at Alice's side again, wrapping an arm around her waist for emphasis."…That's what summer's for. Having fun."

Alice blushes, attempting to make things better even if she's just as guilty.

"Fen, it's hardly summer anymore. But… I think you can blame our love for that.

"That's one hot love, then!"

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @judejazza Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

35 notes · View notes