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roosterbruiser · 1 year

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𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐙-𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄

𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟐.𝟖𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟗𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

Rooster knocks very softly on your bedroom door.

He’s been super into knocking lately--overly courteous and deferential of you and your space and your private time. If you had it your way--he’d just barge in. And, of course, if he had it his way--your door would always be open.

“Enough with the knocking,” you call to him from your closet, grinning to yourself as you tie the skimpy crochet bikini around your neck. The yarn is pilled and worn--very soft on your skin. “There’s no sock on the door, is there?”

“Wouldn’t I be on the other side of the door then?” Rooster asks as he turns the handle and opens the door. A gust of crisp air conditioned air breezes past Bradley and floats on down the hallway. You can’t seem to cool down these days, especially now that the sun is higher and brighter in the sky.

“Would you like to be?” You retort.

He can hear the grin on your face.

He looks for you--doesn’t find you in the mess of sheets on your bed or the pile of discarded clothing before your dresser or tangled up in the half-drawn velvet curtains.

“Babygirl, if I ever say no--why don’t you go ahead and take your pretty little ass down to the Sunset Strip, buy a gun, and shoot me down,” Rooster says.

Your laughter booms off the walls--nearly vibrates the framed photos Rooster meticulously placed around the room.

“Aye-aye, captain,” you tell him.

Then you step out of the closet and into his gaze, biting your lip cheerfully. You’re half a second away from running and jumping on him--peppering his face with glossy kisses and combing your fingers through his waxed hair--but the sudden dismay on his face as he registers you makes your feet heavy.

“What?” You ask instantly, hands on your hips.

Rooster frowns softly at your outfit--you’re wearing Daisy-Dukes and a tiny crochet top. If you were just lounging around the pool, then fine. But today is not the kind of day where you’ll drown yourself in Harvey Wallbanger’s and watch the sun go down in the cherry-red pool. Today is the kind of day where Rooster takes you to open up your very first bank account.

“You can’t wear those threads, babygirl,” Rooster says softly.

“Why not?” You ask, a slight whine dripping from your tone as you jut your hip out. “I wear this, like, everyday!”

“Today isn’t everyday,” Rooster points out. “You’ve gotta look the part.”

“What part?” You ask, nose screwing up in dismay.

Rooster, a fond smile tugging on his lips, starts forward towards your closet. He kisses the top of your head, lips against your warm hair, and shakes his head when you whine again.

“The part of bank account owner,” he tells you. “The part of someone who’s financially responsible.”

“Daddy, this ain’t no part in no porno,” you say, pivoting to watch him as he begins to search through your closet for an outfit for you. “This is the real deal!”

“Don’t lecture the professor,” he warns distantly, voice totally void of any actual authority. “He might flunk you.”

“What’s with all the coded-gab? You’re giving me a complex,” you say, leaning up against your dresser. The corner digs into your bare arm as you watch Rooster flit through a few halter tops and bikini tops. “It’s too early for a complex.”

“It’s ten,” Rooster says, brow perched. “And who hangs up their bikini tops?”

“People who have a wardrobe made of mostly bikini tops,” you say with a waggle of your brows. “Lucky you.”

Rooster grins--he can’t help it.

“Go ahead and sit down,” Rooster says, glancing at you. “This is gonna take me a good, fat minute.”

You’re leaning against your dresser, watching him like a school girl watches her mother pick her picture day outfit. You’re a vision with heated skin: all legs and arms and hollowed cheeks and bare feet. He’d take you like this, naked-faced and unkempt, over made up any day. But bankers wouldn’t.

Rooster’s biting a grin of his own, trying to find something presentable for all the snot-nosed bankers you’re going to encounter today. He always feels uncomfortable in professional settings--like banks, like real estate offices, like doctor’s offices. He has his own private saying about people that work at these places: when people’s collars are stiff, their morals are stiffer.

This is to say that if just one person knew what Rooster was--a stallion, a porn star, a fruit--then he knows undoubtedly that he would be turned away. And the same goes for you--maybe even moreso. You’re much more recognizable these days than Rooster is, shooting off into stardom suddenly and immediately. Earning your way into Heaven last month broke records Rooster’s never even touched before.

Rooster learned the hard way during his second year in the business that people aren’t alway such coolheads about his career, your career. He’d walked into three banks wearing his Angel Fly canary bell-bottoms and a straw hat with a long peacock feather stuck in it, gold jewelry dotting his fingers and neck and ears. He felt good about himself--partly because he was high out of his mind and partly because it was every piece of expensive clothing he owned at the time.

His logic, though flawed and spurred in the midst of a coke-filled mid-morning, felt sound. Look good, feel good, be treated good. Grammar be damned.

He wasn't able to open a bank account that day or any other day that week at any of the nearest banks. This is why he insisted that he wear one of his best corduroy suits today--a rust colored thing that he gets tailored whenever he feels like he’s gained or lost a few pounds. It always fits right--snug and handsome.

The two of you stare at each other--Rooster in his courroy slacks and nice brown loafers and you unbrushed and unwashed--before you break the tension by blowing a raspberry at him and meandering over to your bed.

Sunlight warms the bedding, filters in through curtains. You sink into the unmade velvet sheets and take a deep breath in as you stare at the beams on the ceiling. The bed, unsurprisingly, smells like you. Like sex, like the Givenchy perfume you wear everyday now. The bottle appeared on your bedside table a few days after the incident, when you were still coming out of the fog. Scribbled on a little piece of blue crepe paper was Jake’s unmistakably messy penmanship: you know I love you, right?

“How’d you sleep?” Rooster asks, sucking on the back of his teeth.

You’d fallen asleep on the sofa last night after a few drinks, your head on Rooster’s thigh and your lips parted slightly. He’d groggily carried you into your bedroom early this morning, back stiff from unexpectedly sleeping out in the living room, too.

“Like a baby,” you sigh, yawning. “Say, did someone carry me to bed last night or am I imagining it?”

“Hmm,” Rooster says, taking out a blouse and slinging it over his arm carefully. “Can’t recall.”

“Thanks, daddy,” you say, smiling sweetly. “Don’t you just take the best care of me?”

His throat is tight. He almost can’t stand it when you’re so sweet--it makes him want to fall to his knees at your feet and kiss your thighs and hold onto your legs tight. And now that you’ve misplaced your ring, that gaudy ruby thing with your angel powder stash inside, you’re sweeter than you were before.

In the month since the incident, you haven’t brought the ax down on him very much at all--only a few times here and there when Jake pressed his fingers to your gums while lounging beside the pool or after dinner or in the conversation pit. He’s been basking in your sweetness, submerged in your candied words, washing it out with hot water from between his fingers like dissolving honey.

“Anything for you,” Rooster says softly.

He thinks that the notes of his voice are dissolved in polyester and silk and taffeta--hopes that you can feel the remnants of his words when you slip into a slinky dress or little shirt.

You hear him from where you are sprawled across the bed, lazily fingering the corner of the comforter as hangers squeak across the metal bar in the closet.

And although you hear everything he says, and you can sometimes look at his voice and know precisely what he’s thinking, there are still so many words unuttered between the two of you.

He demanded answers about a few things: the last thing you remembered, if you could pin-point who you were around when someone slipped you something, why you were doing acid without him there to keep you safe, what you and Jake were thinking when you separated at the disco. And you answered everything you could for him, wringing your hands together, feeling like a dog left out in the rain overnight.

You, though--you didn’t demand answers. You didn’t want to know what happened while you were out, floating among midnight flowers. You saw the proof everywhere around the house once you were able to stand on your own two feet again: the dried vomit in the entryway, the heap of your tattered clothing in the bathroom, your smeared makeup staining the couch, the skid marks from Jake peeling into the driveway.

They didn’t take you to the hospital and Rooster told you why with his tail between his legs, with the sweetest earnestness in his gaze. You didn’t want to know how they knew that you valued your career over your longevity, your health. But you chalked it up to both of them loving you deeply--knowing that you’d rather die in the City of Angels at twenty-one than be sent back home to Nebraska on a thin liquid diet with a newly-formed bad nose candy habit.

There were things Rooster didn’t ask, too. He didn’t ask you why you were suddenly so upset on set, didn’t ask what Jake said to you to set you off. He didn’t ask you why you didn’t just stay home with him and Phoenix. He didn’t ask you if you loved him the way he loved you because everything suddenly felt so fragile--a delicate wall made up of dried daisy petals. Entirely collapsable by the slightest gust of wind.

There were some things Rooster didn’t offer either--like just where exactly your ring went after he set it on the entryway table, even after he saw Jake toying with it absently a few days later at lunch. He figured Jake would’ve already used up its contents by then, anyway--and he wasn’t heartbroken at the thought of it not being with you anymore. He didn’t offer up anything else about his ma, about what happened to her, about his fear of losing you. He wept when he begged you to stay--and then the next morning, he brought you a glass of orange juice in bed and hasn’t said a word about his mother since.

All of these things sit between the two of you, growing heavier on the vine as they ripen with time. It is a most intricate dance--delicate movements, stealthy footfalls, measured breaths. But the one thing that prevails through all the perfumed air is your mutual unwillingness to not be near each other at all times. There is a thick piece of rope that tethers you to Bradley now, one that cannot be burned or severed or worn away. There is only so much give before it grows taut, though.

For now--that’s just fine with the both of you.

“Here,” Rooster says as he emerges from the closet. “Try this on.”

It’s a mustard-colored blouse with a big, oversized pink bow sitting on the throat and a pair of lapis-blue slacks. They’re both things Bradley has bought you since coming to Los Angeles, things that were sitting at the foot of your bed still wrapped in brown paper or things that were laid flat on your bedding with the stem of a rose sitting pretty on top.

“Bows doing it for you these days?” You ask quietly as you take the clothing from his hands and set it on the end of the bed. “‘Cause I can do bows, baby. Believe me you.”

“I bet you can do just about anything,” he tells you. “Cherry Arsan.”

The thin, braided straps of your tip fall as he utters your name. You’re still sitting on the bed, looking up at him, when your nipples harden from the sudden shock of the cool air. He’s looking down, his thick brow crinkled, his jaw suddenly flexed like he’s biting down hard.

It isn’t your breasts he’s looking at--it’s the bruise he left behind, the one he pelted into your tissue and bone with the boniest part of his knuckles to make sure you were still alive. With time, it’s faded--it is the color of newly-rotting fruit. Soon, it will be gone. You will not have to plot on foundation and powder and concealer before filming.

But Rooster won’t soon forget what it felt like to watch your shoulders snap up at his touch, what it felt like when your weak breaths puffed onto his fingers as you laid motionless on his bed.

Before you register his sudden nearness as he walks towards you, he’s delicately rubbing his fingers along the blemish. His expression is sober, serious as he traces the jagged outline and bites down on nothing. You see the way his eyes linger there when you’re naked, when it’s on display in a low cut top--even if you’ve covered it with makeup, he’s always willing it to melt off. He’s searching for a shadow, a hint, anything. You know it’s how he’s repenting for not being there with you. For you.

You’ve thought, often, that he must’ve been Catholic in another life because of the way he punishes himself with pain. It is a deep, deep guilt that he must have to inspire such masochism.

“Is it sore?” He asks softly. His throat is dry when he swallows. “Like, does it hurt? Still?”

The sun pours in through the windows, assaults the thick curtains and the sheets and your legs and your naked chest--but you suddenly feel like you can’t get warm enough if you tried.

“Not anymore. You know that,” you tell him, trying to sound okay with the way that he punishes himself--though you aren’t okay with it and you don’t sound like it. “Now it’s swell.”

“Is it?” He asks, gaze flickering up to meet yours.

There he is, willing himself more suffering.

You will not feed the beast.

“Yes,” you whisper. And what you really mean is stop. “Believe me.”

“I do,” he says. But what he’s really saying is I can’t. I don’t know how. His voice is thin, fractured. “I always have. You’re my number one lady.”

“Way to sound convincing,” you say quietly. You stroke his left brow, try and count all the individual and precious hairs that grow there. You want to know him so thoroughly that you know immediately when one has been plucked. “I’m groovy. I’m always groovy.”

He says nothing for a long moment, every part of him softening under your touch except for his grievous expression.

“Grooviest lady on this side of the one-oh-one,” he whispers.

Moving your fingers up slowly, you gently touch the gel in his hair. He doesn’t mind if you mess it up, always grins at his reflection afterwards, but you’re trying to be a good girl. You’re trying to be what he wants you to be.

The way you see it, the way you’ve seen it since the incident--girls like Phoenix don’t go out on the town and get slipped something after taking a dab with their pseudo-dealer at the disco. They stay in with Rooster and drink wine and talk about films. You always want him to soften beneath your fingertips. So, you have to be what he wants.

“Can we stay in tonight?” You whisper to him.

He glances up at you through his lashes, bent at the hips and holding your thigh with his free hand. Your irises are stained with the color of deceit, a very rare and precious shade that Rooster is only just becoming accustomed to.

He knows you--knows that you’d much rather go out than stay in. But here you are, bruised from his love, looking at him like you really mean it. He doesn’t have the heart to fight back, to let you down.

“Yeah,” he answers you.

“Slammin’,” you whisper back. A tentative smile tugs on your lips. “Wanna listen to Joni on the way into town?”

“More than anything,” Rooster whispers.

And before you can pinch his cheek, before you can look away from him and his broad shoulders and his gelled hair and handsome suit, he moves. His head falls, his lips pucker, his grip on your thigh tightens--he is kissing the bruise with a gentleness that you’ve scarcely known in your two decades on this planet.

The floor falls out from under you as his lips linger, as his saliva dampens the place where your pulse thumps. You can’t breathe--can’t move. All you can do is sit still and be good beneath his mouth.

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: SORRY THIS TOOK ME 6 MONTHS!!! AND TO MAKE A LONG ASS STORY SHORT, I LEFT MY LAPTOP CHARGER AT MY MOTHERS HOUSE AND I LITERALLY DONT HAVE TIME TO GO GET IT!!!! SO SHORT CHAPTER FOR NOW!!!! LOTS MORE TO COME!!!!

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

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whiskeyswriting · 2 years

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I See Red… High Heels.

⚠️Warnings: Smut. 18 +. Oral (F receiving), fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), mentions of cheating and divorce, language, minors dni

📝a/n: So uhm… this is my first smut… It took some time to feel ready to publish anything like this… A huge thanks to the discord chaos lovelies that encouraged me to put my thoughts into words. As always, this is a work of fiction. I do not own any of the Top Gun: Maverick characters mentioned. Please do not copy or post anywhere else. Feel free to like and reblog but do give credit. Any constructive criticism is appreciated. I do not own any of the photos included in this post. Photos used have been from Pinterest or Tumblr or Instagram.

🎶 Playlist: Apple | Spotify

This was not how you planned to start your 26th birthday. What a shitty year you had been having: your uncle Tom passed away. Another uncle and one of your closest friends that nearly died. Your own health scare worsened your anxiety. Getting fired from your job and going home. Only to find your husband James screwing the neighbor, who was wearing your wedding dress.

“Unhappy fucking birthday to me,” you murmur as you sit waiting in a courtroom to hear that your divorce has been finalized.

Once the hearing is over and you’re deemed a single woman, who retook her maiden name, you text your best friend Natasha. “Meet me at the old house so I can get my last bags out.”

You arrive at the house that you once shared with your husband. Well, ex-husband now. A pang of sadness does hit at the loss of possibilities that could have been. However, you will no longer dwell on the possibilities with James. He’s no longer a part of your life nor of your future.

You showered before getting dressed for your birthday dinner that Nat and the rest of the squad planned for you. You look in your garment bag and pull out a black silk dress you didn’t recall getting.

Once you’re dressed, you check yourself out in the mirror. The halter top of the dress perfectly showcases your cleavage and the slit up the side shows plenty of leg. To finish the look you decide to go with your red stilettos that match the shade of red lipstick you’re wearing.

It had been a while since you wore both. All because of James. He never liked it when you wore them. Not because you didn’t look good in them. But because he would be so insecure and jealous of any man that would look at you when wearing them.

You knew James had already arrived but you still took your time, since Nat had texted you she was bringing your friends along. You laughed to yourself because you knew James despised the Dagger Squad. He was jealous that he was never considered the best of the best. Hell, that included you.

When you get Nat’s text that she’s almost there, you take your time coming downstairs, making sure that James could see you one last time.

Before you can tell him anything, there’s a knock at the door. You go to open it and see Nat and the guys just made it a happy birthday.

The squad surrounds you immediately and they all take their turns giving you hugs. One, in particular, hugged you longer than the others and you had no complaints at all.

“Glad I’m rid of the slut,” you hear James mumble. He’s glaring at you in Jake’s arms. Man oh man did he hate Jake ever since they went to the Naval Academy together. Now it just happened that Jake had been called back to be an instructor at Top Gun which brought him back as a constant in James’ life.

There’s a deathly quiet that fills the house. You have Nat and the guys take your bags to the car. You turn to James and say “Lucky you to be rid of the wife that was always loyal and faithful to you. You’re so lucky that she’s letting you keep the house she bought with her own money. Goodbye James.” You slip your hand into Jake’s as a last fuck you to your ex.

“That shade of red suits you, m’dear,” Jake says, being the cocky instigator he is.

Something in the way he’s looking at you and his words reached you deep to your core.

Throughout dinner, you two stay next to each other. Small touches here and there light the spark of desire that long was dormant in you. At the feel of his hand on your thigh, the fire ignites and roars to life. As you clench your legs together to relieve some of the pressure at your core, you feel the cold of his academy ring on your skin.

Your whole body flushes at the thoughts racing across your mind. A small chuckle from Nat brings you back to reality. You excuse yourself and have her accompany you to the bathroom.

“Are you sure it was me you wanted to drag away?” She teases.

You start pacing the bathroom. “It’s… I haven’t been this turned on in… ever. Not even with James.”

“I… I know babe… For as arrogant as Jake is, he can be kind and loving when he cares for someone… You’ve been that someone for him since you were his WSO before the uranium mission.”

“What…?” You asked confused.

“He’s a jerk but he’s not a complete asshole. He knew you were married so he never made any moves but he would often ask for you when you were deployed with James. Bob said he once got drunk and said James didn’t deserve you. Go celebrate with him your birthday. You two look good together,” she says as she pats your butt to encourage you.

As you make your way back, you see that Jake is already staring at you and won’t take his eyes off you but is still fully participating in the conversation with the guys. You sit back next to him and lean in to ask him to take you home.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re saying goodbye to your friends and walking toward Jake’s truck. He wraps his arm around your waist.

“My goodness. You’re like a heater! Oh no… It’ll go to your head if I say you’re hot,” you tease.

He just winks and smirks at you, twirling with his tongue the toothpick he had.

“What else can that tongue do?” You ask, emboldened by Nat’s words replaying in your mind.

“Anything you wish for.”

The drive to your new house was too long but also went by fast.

Once inside you’re shoving him up against the wall and kissing him deeply. “I would be lying if I said I never thought about doing this with you,” you manage to pant between kisses.

“Oh, I’ve dreamt of this for too long. I just never did anything except touch myself to the thought of you,” he says as he pulls you closer so you can feel his hardened length. “I want to hear you coming undone on me. I want. No. I need to worship you like the goddess and the queen that you are.”

In less than a second, Jake turns you both so that now your back is against the wall. He pats the back of your thigh so you can wrap your legs around him. “I can feel your heat through our clothes,” he says as he trails kisses down your jawline and your neck.

“Jake…,” you moan softly as you start to grind against him. This causes him to tighten his hold on you. Pulling away from kissing your neck he asks you to lead him to the bedroom.

As you try to refocus to help lead him, he inadvertently bumps you against the threshold. His green eyes widen. “I’m so sorry!”

You can help but giggle at the mishap. “It’s okay. It was funny.”

“You’re not hurt?” He asks, concern lacing his eyes.

You notice and the giggles stop. “I mean it, Jake,” you bring a hand up to cup his cheek. “I know with you I’ll be safe. I trust you with my life in the sky. I trust you with it down here too.” You lean forward and kiss him deeply.

He gently lays you on the bed once you’re both in the room and he begins to undress but you kneel on the bed and remove his hands. “Let me,” you say as you start unbuttoning his shirt.

With each button undone, more and more of his delectable skin is shown. You start kissing his chest and pecs as you continue removing his shirt.

As your hands go to undo his belt and pants, he stops you. “Tonight is your night birthday girl. I meant what I said about worshiping you.” While part of his brain is screaming at him to rip the dress off of you, he knows you probably wouldn’t be happy with that.

He slowly helps you out of the dress. “Keep the heels on. Red is your color my queen,” he says as he starts kissing down your chest.

He continues to kiss lower and lower until he’s face to face with your clothed center. He starts kissing and nibbling your inner thighs. Teasing you. Making you writhe in anticipation. “This is better than what I ever imagined,” he says before kissing your panty covered bundle of nerves.

You gasp and your hips buck up to get more friction. “Such a good girl. So responsive.” He smirks as he softly smacks your ass to get you to lift your hips so he can remove your underwear. He makes sure you see him pocketing the red lace. “These are mine now.”

Jake doesn’t give you time to respond when he slips in a finger between your folds. “God… You’re going to taste so good,” he says before giving a long, slow lick at your cunt. “Mmm. I’m never giving you up. You’re all mine now.”

His words, possessiveness, and his mouth have you clenching around his finger. You loudly moan his name. “Jaaaakkeee!”

He slips in another finger, except this time the cold of his naval academy ring hits right at your clit, causing your back to arch. Your hands slide down your body and towards Jake. Reaching his head, you tug at his hair to bring his mouth back to your needy cunt.

“My good girl knows what she wants,” is all you manage to hear before he starts taking his time licking and sucking at your clit.

“More Jake…. More… Fuuuuck!”

“That’s it my queen… Let them hear who makes you feel this good,” he says after some minutes of him fingering, licking, and sucking you.

With his free hand, Jake palms himself. He’s harder than he’s ever been. But tonight he wants to get himself off by getting you off as many times as he can.

When he feels your walls tighten and grip his fingers more, he moves up so that he takes one of your pebbled nipples in his mouth as he continues to finger you through your release. “That’s it… Such a good girl. Come on doll… Cum for me.”

He keeps his fingers in you, slowly thrusting them as you ride out your orgasm. You pull him up off you breasts and kiss him passionately. “I need you inside. Jake… I need you.”

He returns your kisses and finishes removing his pants. He stops for a moment. “I don’t… I don’t have any condoms.”

“I’m on the pill and I’m clean. Haven’t been with anyone in months,” you pant out.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to rush…”

“Jake… either fuck me or watch me get myself off but I’m cumming with you this time.”

“Ma’am yes ma’am,” he says as he kisses you before taking his time lining up his hip with yours. Just like earlier, he teases you by running the tip of his impressive cock up and down your folds before he finally enters you.

“Shiiit… You feel so fucking good my goddess,” he groans at the sight of his cock disappearing into you.

Your whole body is in overdrive and you feel every inch of him filling you up. “You-Jake!! You fill me up so good!”

Moans from the both of you fill the room, along with the scent of sex. The louder you moan the harder he thrusts. He takes you to the edge a few times before slowing down.

Once he feels your walls start to clench him and tighten, he moves the two of you so that you are riding him. “Let me see you come undone love… Be MY good girl and cum again.”

It’s the way he says “my” that pushes you over the edge. You shudder around him and feel him release his cum inside you.

You lean forward, panting, to lay on his chest. Your fingers play with the soft hairs on his chest as his fingers run up and down your back.

“Happy birthday goddess,” Jake whispers to you.

“I am happy now. Really happy and not just because of the orgasms…” you reply.

Jake smiles softly at you as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Be mine. You’re the only one that knows when to tell me to shut up and the only one I’m the most scared of losing in a mission… I can’t promise we’ll be perfect but I’ll care for you and treat you like the queen and goddess that you are.”

Your eyes fill with happy tears when hearing his words. It’s not about the words, but how he conveys them. You see his genuine smile and the sincerity in his beautiful green eyes. “I’m already yours Seresin. Only yours.”

Chaos Discord Lovelies: @callsign-dragonbaron @cycbaby @bayisdying @mtnofgrace @callsignscupcake @askmarinaandothers @breadsquash

#mrsjaderogerswrites #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman smut #jake seresin smut #tgm #tgm fandom #tgm fanfiction

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queen-scribbles · 2 years

Text

Worthwhile

Happy holidays, @jackalopey I’m your SWtOR Secret Santa! You have so many cool characters, but I have such a soft spot from f!Trooper/Jorgan I couldn’t resist writing for Salama. I hope I got her right, and your holidays were enjoyable.

---

Salama had faced down traitors, Senate hearing, an Imperial mastermind, and a prototype dreadnaught. Her closet was proving a greater challenge than any of them. And given the minor personal war she and Jorgan(mostly Jorgan) had waged to get tonight off, she was not going to admit defeat against her wardrobe of all things. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at the underwhelming selection facing her.

“Still having trouble?”

She sighed in answer to Jorgan’s vaguely amused question and tugged the end of her ponytail. “Do you think the restaurant will mind if I wear my dress uniform? Might be the classiest thing I own.”

“You really wanna draw that sort of attention on our night off?” he pointed out with a chuckle and she did have to give him that.

Protecting the Republic was her duty, the gratitude expressed by civilians who occasionally recognized them from the news all well and good. But she didn’t really want it interrupting her first time off with her husband in she-didn’t- remember how long. So Salama let out another sigh. “You’re right. So...” she worried her lower lip between her teeth. “The black one’ll do, I suppose. You’re lucky it’s so easy for you.”

“Yes, lucky I have to wear a tie,” he deadpanned.

“You picked the restaurant, Aric,” Salama reminded him with a quiet laugh, turning to meet his eye. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

“True.” He leaned in to kiss her forehead. “And it’s a worthwhile sacrifice for time with my wife.”

“Only if she’s dressed in time to make our reservation,” she murmured, but her hand stayed where she’d rested in on his arm and she was hardly moving to pull away.

“Also true.” He kissed the top of her head this time. “And I need to finish getting ready, too.”

She nodded and stepped back to let him go, turning her attention to getting dressed. There was nothing wrong with the aforementioned black dress. It was just a very simple style--as were the few other nicer outfits she owned--and would almost definitely be more understated than the rest of the patrons tonight. But a quality black dress was always in style, or so said the saleswoman, which was why Salama had bought it. She didn’t have frequent enough occasion to dress up for her to worry about the latest trends. A black midcalf halter-top dress was usually a safe bet, on its own or with only minor accessorizing. And it wasn’t the most uncomfortable thing she’d worn, which was a bonus.

Salama paired the dress with beaded flats--no way in hell was she wearing heels--and the necklace Jorgan had given her. She didn’t have much opportunity to wear jewelry, best to take advantage. Her hair went in a simple bun, though she did at least make the concession of leaving a couple loose bits in front to frame her face.

The appreciative glance and quiet whistle her ensemble earned from Jorgan made it more than worth the hassle. Whatever the restaurant staff and other patrons thought.

“Can’t believe I haven’t seen you dress up before,” he commented, tone warm as his gaze lingered on the necklace.

“We haven’t been given an abundance of opportunity since we met,” Salama pointed out, running a self-conscious hand over her hair.

“Still. Much as I appreciate your talent for making durasteel look good, this is...” He cleared his throat. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you.” She sidled closer and linked her arm through his. “You’re looking quite handsome, whatever your feelings toward ties.”

Jorgan laughed and tipped her chin up with his free hand to steal a kiss. “Thanks. Shall we?”

“If we want to be on time, I suppose we should,” Salama said. It was a warm enough evening she wouldn’t need any sort of jacket or wrap, so she was ready to go.

---

The speeder ride was uneventful, the wait to get in the restaurant bearable, and the security standing outside very subtle. Salama supposed if you were going to gamble on opening a restaurant this nice so close to the Galactic Market sector, you would want good security.

“Wonder how much of their budget goes to paying those guys?” Jorgan murmured as they walked inside. He’d clocked them, too, probably before she did.

“I’d wager only slightly less than the food,” Salama whispered back. But it’s paying off, she mused as Jorgan spoke to the hostess. The place looked to be thriving. They followed her to their table and Salama did her best to hide just how surprised and impressed she was with the quality of the décor. No wonder they had such good security.

“Think we can go the entire meal without talking about work?” Jorgan asked with a wry smile as they took their seats. “Starting now.”

Salama snorted s laugh. “Doubtful, but we can try.” She looked around, searching the nooks of the ceiling for a non-work conversation topic. “I like what they’ve done with this place. You can tell it was a warehouse in a former life, but only if you’re familiar with the area. They made good use of the space.”

He nodded, following her gaze to the wider balcony that had replaced the typical catwalk. “Takes guts to run a place this nice in this part of town, guess you would have to be willing to go all in.”

“I admire them for the effort and they seemed to be doing well,” she said, looking around the mostly full restaurant. “From what I hear the other places are also doing better than alright.”

A serving droid trundled up to get them drinks, bringing the conversation to a brief lull, and it turned to the menu when they resumed. The choices were varied and slightly more expensive than Salama would have expected. She hoped it was good food, to justify the chunk it was taking out of their paychecks. From the smells wafting through the air, she was pretty sure it would be.

---

The food was definitely worth the price. And they mostly succeeded at keeping the conversation away from work. Only two brief gizka trails--remembering Krel and wondering about their next assignment--that were easily steered back on course.

They made their way home comfortably full and far more relaxed than either could remember being for a long time. Given it was still early, they settled on the couch, shoes kicked off--along with Jorgan’s jacket and tie--to enjoy the free night a bit more.

“That was a good time,” Salama said lazily, leaning against his shoulder with her feet stretched toward the far end of the couch. ”Thank you for dinner.”

Jorgan hummed a quiet laugh. “Glad you enjoyed yourself. Thanks for covering the tip.”

She bit back a smile. “Thank you for not making me twist your arm too hard about that.”

This laugh was louder, and she felt it rumble in his chest. “I know better than to stand in your way when you set your mind to something.” He gave a contented sigh and slipped his arm around her waist. “We needed something like this...”

“MM-hm,” Salama hummed, feeling about as drowsy as Jorgan sounded. Whatever the price tag, whatever assignment awaited them in the morning, tonight had been very worthwhile.

#queens fic #swtor secret santa 2022 #swtor trooper #aric jorgan #trooper/jorgan #2022swtorss

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yourthoughtsjim · 2 years

Text

Baby's First Pride

Mackenzie x Yancy x Reader

Warnings: cute shit, that's all

A knock at Mackenzie’s door alerted her to company. Taking out her headphones she goes to answer it. “Hey, doll! I got youse something.” Yancy states in an ecstatic tone. He slowly unveils a square object of blue, pink, and white coloring. “What’s this?” She questions. Unraveling it, he makes a “ta da” motion. Her eyes lit up. “Oh, Yance you didn’t have…” She states as she fights back tears. “I know, but I thought youse deserved to have something to mark the occasion.” He says going over to the wall above her bed.

He gestures for her hand. Together, they push the pins on either side. Stepping off the bed, they stand back and look at it. Mackenzie then clutched tightly onto her adoptive brother. “Thank you so much Yance. It means a lot to me, really.” She comments. “Youse is welcome. Now get ready. Today’s the big day.” Yancy replies. “Oh shit, you’re right! I got to look my best after all.” She states.

You and the rest of everyone were waiting downstairs for Mackenzie. She comes down wearing a turquoise halter top along with a mid-thigh high skirt. You look at her and your jaw drops. You’ve never seen her like this before. Sure, she had some great outfits, but you didn’t know she had this in her caliber. She gives you nervous look “Well, how do I look?” She questions. You go up to her and grab her hands “You look amazing, babe! You’ve outdone yourself!” You exclaim. A flurry of comments coming from Celci, Mark and Yancy soon followed. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.” Mark states.

Arriving at the festival, you hold Mackenzie’s hand tightly. She took in all the sights and sounds. It took everything in your power to stop her from running off. That’s when the parade starts. Yancy picked up Mackenzie and placed her on his shoulders so she could get a better view. “Hey! That’s my job!” Mark states. “She’s my sister too.” Yancy returns. “Yeah, well, we’re related by blood.” Mark also returns. Sticking his tongue out, Yancy turns his attention to the parade.

After the parade had gotten done, you all decide to get some of the food offerings. Celci picking out some ice cream, Mark getting a corn dog, Yancy getting a big thing of cotton candy, while you and Mackenzie get an elephant ear to share. You then sit down at one of the picnic tables. After a few moments Mackenzie pipes up “Thank you guys for bringing me. I, I don’t know where I would be without you guys. You’ve helped me so much over these past, I don’t even know how many, years. You all have been my rocks.” She comments. “Of course, babe. We all love you and just want you to be able for you to express yourself, live your life the way you want to.” You respond.

Tears were now filling her eyes. You all huddle around her, squeezing her in a tight hug. “We wouldn’t want to have youse any other way.” Yancy comments. “Yeah, also don’t forget. Anyone who gives you weird looks, tell them that not only are you together with the Captain, but you got two big brothers who would love to have a chat with them.” Mark states. “And a big sister, I’ll make sure I give them a nice, cool time.” Celci states. A wide smile fell on her face as she looks between the four of you. She rips a piece of the pastry and shoves it in her mouth as she wonders how she got so lucky.

#matpat #markiplier #mackenzie #yancy #engineer #engineer mark #celci #pamela horton #in space with markiplier

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rogersevans · 3 years

Text

Quarantine Wedding

Pairings: Chris Evans x Y/n Downey - Chris Evans x Y/n Evans

Warnings: just fluff, wedding (if they make you emotional), implied smut towards the end

Summary: Y/n never planned her dream wedding, but in their back garden, surrounded by their families, during a global pandemic seems pretty perfect to her. apart of the evans’ series.

Sunday mornings were Y/n’s and Chris’s favourite day of the week, the only time they got to stay in bed, tangled in the sheets and each other, going undisturbed from the outside world. Chris currently had Y/n lying between his legs, her back against his bare chest as he rested against the head of the bed.

Y/n was absentmindedly playing with the engagement ring on her finger, something she had started to do since he put it on, twiddling it with her thumb.

Dodger was at their feet, on his back with his legs spread, snoring away.

“We should get married.” Y/n mumbled like she was thinking something through in her mind, thumb still playing with the ring.

“We are...” Chris reminded her, placing a small kiss to her temple. “That’s what this is for.” Taking her small hand in his, holding it up to show off the ring as it glistened in the Sunday morning sun.

“No,” she protested with a giggle, getting up onto her knees and wrapping the sheet around her naked body, turning to face her fiancé. “I mean sooner, like tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Or Thursday if you’re too busy.” Rolling her eyes playfully she scooted closer to him, now in his lap, the sheet now being held up by their bodies, closing the gap. Her hands finding his hair, raking her fingers through it and massaging his scalp. “I want to be Mrs Evans, I want to get married in our back garden, with our families... No one else.” Chris hummed in agreement, letting his hands fall to her hips.

“You don’t want a big wedding?” Licking his lips, his eyes now open and focused on every detail of her, the small freckle that sat just above the curve of her right breast, the thin chain that sat around her neck with a small diamond C resting in the centre he’d bought her on their second anniversary, the butt dimpled in her chin, something she hated but another thing he adored.

Truthfully, she didn’t, she never envisioned herself surrounded by 300 people as she said ‘I do’, she just wanted a small, intimate wedding, less than 30 people.

The pair had been engaged for five months and the pandemic had haltered all of their plans to celebrate, they had various zoom celebrations with their families and friends and when they were allowed to travel back home their hallway was filled with presents and balloons.

They had managed to keep the news out of the press, wanting to bask in the newness of their engagement privately, it had been blissful but Y/n was becoming impatient.

Silently shaking her head, she dipped her head her lips just a whisper away from Chris’s, “I just want you, as my husband.” She whispered making Chris’s entire body shiver, and in one swift movement Y/n is on her back with Chris lying on his side next to her, propped up on his elbow and tracing shapes on her are stomach.

She doesn’t stop herself from reaching up and cupping his cheek, booping his nose with her thumb, making them both giggle and then running her fingers over his beard, one her favourite features of her fiancé the way it feels against her skin makes her feel alive.

“Tomorrow.” Was all he replied with, letting his lips fall down to her nose.

After another hour of being tangled up in one another, the room filled with her soft moans and Chris made love to her, turned on at the thought of her becoming his wife tomorrow. They started organising everything, never leaving the bed unless it was for Dodger, food or toilet breaks.

They had delivered the news to their families and the cheers or screams (Carly and Shanna) we’re piercing, even though the speaker of their phones.

Chris booked flights for his family to be able to attend, they were getting in at around 10pm that night. Y/n demanded that everyone be tested before they stepped foot in their home, so she arranged for someone to come out and test everyone. Y/n’s family were due to arrive tomorrow morning, the nerves bubbled in the pit of her stomach at the thought of her mom and dad being in the same room again, something she hadn’t experienced in years.

“Baby, it’ll be fine.” Giving a chaste kiss to her knuckles, “we’re getting married tomorrow.” He mumbled against them, his voice raspy and tired after a long day of planning, all doubt or anxiety about her parents leaving her body just from his touch, his words settled her completely.

“I can’t wait to be your wife.” Standing to her tiptoes she nudged her nose with his, their gaze still looked before her eyes fluttered shut, breathing him in and relishing in the moment before his lips found hers.

“What are you going to do about a dress?” Scott asked in a hushed tone, not wanting Chris to hear their conversation, closing the door to their bedroom behind him.

The house was extremely busy downstairs with everyone completing last minute preparations so Scott and Y/n had snuck away for a quiet moment to get ready, knowing Y/n didn’t function when stressed. He could tell she wanted nothing more than to have Chris at her side, one didn’t move without the other.

But Scott demanded, as the self appointed best man/man of honour, that they be apart for the night before and the day of, still up-keeping some form of tradition.

Unknowingly to Scott, Chris had snuck back into their bedroom last night when everyone was asleep, not wanting to be away from one another with the excitement of the next day bubbling.

Like children on Christmas Eve.

The busyness of the day had helped keep them both distracted, not giving them much time to sneak off for a moment of privacy.

“I bought something a few months ago, thinking ahead.” Y/n rummaged through her and Chris’s shared walk-in closet, plucking a black garment bag which was hidden at the very back.

Unzipping the bag, Y/n revealed the white, embroidered, floor length cami wedding dress. Scott couldn’t contain his gasp as he softly took the dress in his hands, admiring it silently.

“Where did you find this?” His eyes not leaving the dress, his fingers running over the patterns.

“ASOS,” she started. “I saw it on there and had to have it, I’m going to wear it with these...” Trailing off as she bent down to pick up her pair of all white, high-topped converses, now beaming from ear to ear.

“You’re joking right?”

“Heels aren’t me,” shrugging her shoulders she took the dress from Scott and disappeared into the en-suite to get ready.

“What about rings?” Scott asked on the other side of the door, he was sitting on the edge of the bed go through the checklist he had created in his mind.

“I think Chris has that sorted.” Was all she replied too focused on not damaging the dress as she slipped it on carefully, not hearing when Scott said something about checking on the decorations and leaving.

After ten minutes Y/n stepped out of the bathroom to show Scott, her hair now falling freely over her shoulders and the slightest bit of make-up, the dress hugged her figure perfectly as the flowed around her.

“Wow.” Chris’s voice sounded, making her jump back behind the bathroom door, shutting it, hoping he didn’t see too much. “Baby, what’re you doing?” Walking over to the bathroom door, trying to push it open.

“I thought you were Scott. You’re not supposed to see me!” Y/n cried from behind the door.

“I don’t care, we’re getting married during a pandemic, in our back garden with less than twenty people... So, I think the traditions are out the window.” His hand still on the door knob, letting a breathy chuckle out. “C’mon gorgeous, I wanna see you.” He attempted to persuade her.

Slowly the door started to open to reveal Y/n stood there, holding either side of her dress as she twirled for Chris, giggling as she did.

Well fuck, the sight made Chris’s heart swell, his palms became sweaty as his eyes trailed over her, drinking in her appearance, his smile never leaving his lips.

Y/n took the opportunity to take in her fiancé's appearance, he was currently in black dress pants, a white shirt tucked into his pants with the top few buttons undone, and a tie hanging around his neck, untied. Her breath hitched in her throat at the sight, butterflies erupting in her stomach.

“Was gonna ask you to do my tie...” He choked out, his eyes now meeting hers.

Without word she took a step forward and began fastening the last few buttons before making work of his tie, his hands found her hips, rubbing small circles with his thumbs as he watched her intently.

“You look...” He started, but was cut off by Y/n.

“Handsome, you look insanely handsome. I’m lucky you’re about to become my husband.” Her eyes still fixated on the tie, her tongue dragging across her bottom lip as she concentrated. Once satisfied her fingers smoothed out his collar and tie. “Now go, before Scott sees you in here. Anyone would think he’s the one getting married.” Both chuckling softly.

With her command Chris didn’t move away, just one step closer to her, closing the gap between them, his hands now cupping her cheeks, both looking into each other's eyes for a few seconds before he dipped his head down to kiss her.

This kiss wasn’t like all the others he had sneaked in the past twenty four hours, it was different.

Y/n’s mind casting back to the night Chris told her he loved her for the first time, the kiss matching that. It was filled with adoration, passion and love, making her stomach do flips and her heart hammer against her chest.

“Go,” Y/n mumbled against his lips after a few seconds, pushing his abdomen. “I’ll see you down there handsome.” Giving her one last kiss before walking away, leaving her now by herself as she jumped up and down in their bathroom, the tiniest squeal leaving her lips.

The next half an hour rushed by so quickly, now the pair were stood at the bottom of their garden in front of their families, their garden littered with fairy lights hung above them, their families stood watching proudly.

It was simple and perfect, no fuss.

Scott was ordaining the ceremony something Chris and Y/n weren’t aware he could do until last night. Too scared to know the reason why he decided to become an ordained minister, “you never know when you might need it” was all he said.

“Y/n,” Chris started, his hands shaking a little. “I can’t imagine my life without you, since you came barging into it 22 years ago. From the very first day of filming back in 2011, I knew you were it for me, even if I didn’t know it.” That caused everyone to laugh, “I love how you’re always there by my side, how you always tie my tie... Even if I know how to do it myself.” Y/n gasped shocked at his admission, laughing along with everyone. “At first it was a tactic to be near you, but the look of concentration you have every time, drives me crazy.” He laughed as she shook her head, beaming from ear to ear. “You make me the happiest man alive every day, even when you’re beating my ass at guitar hero. I love how passionate and impatient you are... Today being an example of that.” Everyone laughed again, he reached for her cheek and wiped the tears away with his thumb. “I can’t believe I get to call you my wife... I love you.”

Y/n was speechless, wiping away the tears that continued to fall, it was like he’d winded her with his words, her body tingled with excitement and love as the feeling of becoming Mrs Evans drew closer.

“Chris,” she started. “You are one of the most amazing, crazy talented, men I’ve ever known, I’m in constant awe of what you’re capable of... Seriously, it's annoying... I will make it my life mission to find something you’re not good at.” Chris’s loud laughter now echoed over your families laughs, his hand falling to his chest. “Your laugh, is my favourite sound of yours and if I could play it on repeat I would, but I’ll just settle for making you laugh with my terribly bad dad jokes-”

“Oh no!” Chris groaned at her statement, making everyone laugh again.

“Our love consumes me, I knew from the moment Lizzie told me you liked me that I had to have you, no matter what. Everyone constantly tells me how intense our love is, but it wasn’t until someone described it perfectly to me that I understood,” Y/n took the opportunity to side eye Scott, recalling the night they had a very drunken conversation about her relationship with Chris, making Scott laugh. “We’re so in sync with one another, you move, I move, we could be in a room filled with people, on opposite ends and we would still find each other without looking. Being with you,” she had to stop to compose herself, not wanting to cry during her vows. “Is like living a dream come true, especially during the simple times, no plans, no noise, just us doing nothing.”

Chris didn’t hide his tears as they freely fell, the sniffles from everyone, including Robert could be heard now.

After a few more words from Scott, once he calmed down, the cheers erupted as their lips connected, their first kiss as husband and wife. Chris pulling her flush against him, deepening the kiss. “I got you, Mrs Evans.” He whispered against her lips, making her giggle.

The rest of the night was spent with their families, basking in the events of the day as they ended the night with the fire pit lit, gathered around it. Y/n was still in her dress and converse clad feet, her hair now tied up as she sat on the floor in between her husband's legs.

She was currently admiring her wedding band, it was rose gold, slim and had diamonds wrapped around it, fitting perfectly against her engagement ring. reaching for the hand that rested on her shoulder, now playing with his wedding band, his band was thick, black and had a thin, rose gold strip around the centre.

Chris had purchased them the day he bought the engagement ring and had hidden them in his sock drawer in his bedside, his hiding spots were getting better.

“I’m so happy for you guys.” Robert softly whispered, puling his daughter into his arms holding her tightly against his chest. “I can’t believe you’re married!”

“I know... I have to live with a boy!” She quipped back and Robert’s body started to vibrate with laughter, her cheek resting on his should as they continued to hug, not wanting to let go.

“My baby...” Now cupping her cheeks, giving his daughter one last look of pride before letting go. “You’ve always been my favourite child.” He whispered, Y/n knew he was joking but she laughed in agreement anyway. Out of her other three siblings they both shared a close relationship, Y/n was his saving grace when he was younger, having her at a young age bonded them.

“Chris, I can’t believe you’re my son now... How weird.” Chris smiles broadly at the term son, instead of son-in-law, he knew Robert classed him as part of the family and not because he had to. "Welcome to the family, legally.. Let’s face it you’ve always been apart of this family.” Sharing a quick embrace before slipping past the newlyweds to speak to Lisa.

“Do you want to dance?” Chris bent down to whisper in his wife's ear, his hands finding her hips and back pressed against his chest, only to have her hum in response.

Guiding her to an open spot in the garden, taking his hand in hers and spinning her so she was now facing him. His large hands resting on her hips whilst her hands snaked around his waist, the music that played from the speakers in the house guiding them. “You’re my wife,” stating softly, his lips finding her forehead.

“That’s right Evans,” the nickname now sounding futile with both being Evans’. “You’re stuck with me, no getting out this.” Her index finger was pointing between them before wrapping back around his neck.

“Never.”

It was nearing 2am when Chris and Y/n climbed the stairs to their bedroom, once the click of their door shutting was heard she reached behind trying to unzip her dress but struggled due to her tired state, contemplating just sleeping her dress.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her husband as he guided the zip down slowly, leaving slow, wet kisses on shoulder, using his callous fingers to brush the straps of her dress off her shoulders, the dress pooling at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her panties.

“My wife, you’re stunning.” He said lowly, the only light in the room was the light of the moon streaming through the windows. Y/n turned to face him, starting to unbutton his shirt which was now untucked, tie long gone and the top two buttons already undone, his collar bones and tattoos poking out through his shirt.

Pushing the shirt off of him, she traced his tattoos with her fingers, a hiss of pleasure escaping from his throat, making him tighten the grip on her hips she didn’t know he had.

The C necklace glistening in the moonlight.

That’s how they stood for a few minutes, their eyes never breaking from one another, her arms wrapped around his neck, his hands on her hips.

Y/n guided her new husband to their bed, the back of his legs hitting the edge and he sat down closely followed by her straddling him. “Mr Evans,” her voice laced with arousal. “I do believe, you’re wearing one too many items of clothing.” She tsked, her finger trailing down his abdomen, his muscles twitching when she did, effortlessly flicking the button of his pants open.

“That can be fixed... Mrs Evans.” He purred in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

#chris evans #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x downey!reader #chris evans x fem!reader #cevans #cevansedit #evansedit #the evans'

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thatblackravenclaw · 3 years

Text

I Know That He Loves Me

Masterlist

author note: I know my last one did really good (107 notes in one day! thank you so much! I love you guys) but I'm kind of nervous about this one. I hope you guys like it 💙.

Stiles Stilinski x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

song: Brown Eyes -Destiny's Child

warning(s): fluff, stiles being stupid and reckless, and cussing

Remember the first day when I saw your face?

Remember the first day when you smiled at me?

“Sti?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember everything that has happened with us up to this point?”

“Yes, but you’re gonna tell me about it anyway aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am, and don’t act like you don’t love it.”

“It was the first day of school. I was wearing one of those leopard crop tops with a ring halter and jeans. I had just gotten out of my mom’s car when I saw you standing by the entrance of the school. You were looking at Lydia. I felt a twig of jealousy even though we didn’t even know each other. As soon as I saw you I knew you had to be mine.”

I felt him hold me tighter as we laid on his bed.

“My heart was palpitating when I started walking past you. I heard your breath hitch as I did so. After a few minutes I finally found my locker and lucky me it was right next to yours. When I closed it after putting my stuff in you stepped to me and said to me that I was the woman you dreamed about. I honestly til this day have no idea where you got the courage to say that considering you couldn’t even talk to Lydia. I tried so hard to contain my excitement. I softly smiled at you and told you to pick me up Saturday at 6.”

People always make fun of how geeky and awkward Stiles is, but honestly that’s what I love the most about him. He’s probably the best thing going on in my life right now.

Remember the first day when you called my house?

Remember the first day when you took me out?

We had butterflies

Although we tried to hide it

And we both has a beautiful night

“I spent all Saturday trying to figure out what to wear. It was hot, but I knew it was gonna be cooler later in the night. I ended up just wearing a brown and tan patchwork tank top and wide cut jeans. You called the house phone, because I had broken my cell that Thursday. You realized you hadn’t asked me for my address, so I gave it to you, and you said you’d be there soon.”

“I just want to let you know; I was so nervous to call your house. I was afraid your dad was going to answer. I practiced what to say for like 30 minutes.”

“You’re lying! Oh my gosh I was nervous about the same thing! You know my dad has no filter. I kept the phone in my room from the moment I woke up to the moment you picked me up.”

We laughed for a bit before I shifted position so I could lay my head on his stomach and lift my thigh over his legs.

“Anyway, I suggested that we go for a walk because I wanted to delay going home. Our shoulders were touching and that alone made me almost stop breathing, then you reached for my hand. I felt like you picked up on my nervousness, because you started telling me some really corny jokes and I suddenly wasn’t so nervous anymore. Whether you knew or not I knew right then and there you were the one.

I know that he loves me cause he told me so

I know that he loves me cause his feelings show

“Interestingly enough after that date I don’t think we really did much. We got close and I became friends with Scott, but we were kind of at a standstill. I mean months passed and we were still just friends. Not like how Scott and I are friends though. We were much closer than that. You would always do little things though to show me your love. You’d pick me up for school in the mornings and take me home after classes, study with me for hours, let me read my very extensive novels to you, etc.”

When he stares at me, you see he cares for me

You see how he is so deep in love

Stiles POV:

She took a break from talking for a bit. Claimed her mouth was dry, so she went to go get a bottle of water from the fridge. I decided to just look around my room for a bit. I live here so there’s nothing I haven’t really seen, but I needed to busy myself until she came back. After another minute or so she finally walks back in, and I can’t help but just stare at her. I’m so in love with her. Nothing else in the world matters when she’s near me to be honest.

And he’s missin’ me if he’s not kissin’ me

And when he looks at me, his brown eyes tell it so

“Where was I? Oh, right, when Scott disowned you. I hadn’t even put in the first digit of my locker combination before Scott dumped you on me. Apparently you wouldn’t stop talking about how I smell so good, and I have the prettiest eyes, and my lips are so soft, and how I scrunch my eyebrows when I see someone I don’t like, and blah blah blah. I actually found it quite cute. No one has really paid so much attention to me. Wait I feel like I stopped going in chronological order. Fuck, I don’t remember where I left off. Oh well.”

Remember the first, the first day we kissed?

“OH! The first day we kissed! Do you remember? It was in here actually. You were messing with your yarn and somehow slipped on it and fell. I remember laughing so hard I was on the ground clutching my stomach and crying for like five minutes. When I finally calmed down we just laid there. I decided to look up at you just to find you already looking at me. I averted my eyes and then cleared my throat to clear the awkwardness I created. Your floor isn’t really the most comfortable place to lay so I decided to sit and lean against your bed, and you followed by example. I decided to try looking at you again and to my luck you were looking down at your hands. Your brows were furrowed so I knew you were overthinking something. I kind of just went into autopilot and the next thing I knew my lips were on yours.”

I paused a moment realizing that 1. It’s been about 30 minutes since we last kissed and that doesn’t sit right with me and 2. I completely stopped going in order from the moment we met until now. I’m kind of just telling random memories of us. I’m too out of order to try to get back in order now, so fuck it. I don’t think he minds anyway. I once heard him tell Isaac that he loves to hear me talk literally about anything. Apparently my voice is soothing.

Remember the first day we had an argument?

We apologized, and then we compromised

And we haven’t argued since

“God, I remember that night you came to my house scratched up and shit, because you were on Isaac duty during the full moon and decided to fuck with him. I was so mad at you. I think I pressed on your wounds a little harder just to hear you wince, because I was that mad. It’s the way you tried to justify it to! I was too exhausted to even keep the argument going to be honest. Being stupid is just a part of you to be honest.”

He flicked my head at that comment, but he knows that I’m right.

“No need for violence.” I say with a huff.

“You said that if you promised to stay away from Isaac during the full moon could we go to bed and honestly that was the best idea you had ever came up with. We haven’t argued since now that I think about it. Hm.”

I look up at him and pucker my lips so he gets the hint to kiss me and thankfully he does, but I pull back quick, so I can continue the story of us.

Remember the first day we stopped playing games?

Remember the first day you fell in love with me?

It felt so good for you to say those words

Cause I felt the same way too

“Remember when we finally started dating? Like the day I could finally officially call you my girlfriend?”

“Yes, but don’t say finally like it wasn’t your fault it took literally 8 months for you to admit your feelings for me.” I said while rolling my eyes, because yes I’m still irritated about it 2 years later. “We had drove to your house but ended up walking to mine just because. Before we walked in you had stopped me. You told me how you had been holding back how you felt for a while now and was tired of it. If I remember correctly, you said, “I’m sorry, but I’m tired of playing these games.” Before you confessed your undying love for me. How you feel in love with me 3 months prior when I helped you fix Roscoe. She had been making spluttering noises that was driving me crazy. When you told me how you felt I remember letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and started laughing. I told you how I was glad that this wasn’t an unrequited love thing. It felt so good to know for sure that I was yours and you were mine.”

I decide to sit up against the wall and look at him.

“What?” he asks me with a goofy smile.

“I’m so happy. So happy that you’re in my life and baby now that you’re a part of me you’ve shown me the true meaning of love. I love you so much.”

“Aww you’re gonna make me blush.”

“Yup. Alright, I’m done. You’re sleeping by yourself tonight. I’m going home.” I say teasing him knowing full well that the most I’m about to do is walk out of his room, go downstairs, and wait by the front door until I hear him scramble out of bed to chase after me.

“No, babe come on. You know I love you too.”

And I do. His brown eyes tell it so. It’s still fun to mess with him though.

#stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski x y/n #stiles x reader #stiles x you #stiles x y/n

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hispipsqueak · 4 years

Text

Hunger

Beel x F!Reader NSFW

Synopsis: After a chaotic week at the House of Lamentation, you need a night out and your favorite demon is there to accompany you in more ways than one.

A/N: Hello! Here’s another smut of my favorite demon brother. I just really like Beel and so this is some v self-indulgent content. As always, likes and shares are mighty appreciated <3 Also there is a mention of Beel lifting the reader up during this. I HC all the brothers as extremely inhumanly strong and big so they could EASILY lift anyone up regardless of size. I know some people may get uncomfortable with that, but we are inclusive in these parts.

Tags/TW: unprotected sex, drunk/tipsy sex, distracted driving, rough sex, demon sex, drinking, creampie, slight cumflation?

You woke up to the sound of fighting outside your door.

“Mammon, I know you took it. That’s LIMITED EDITION Ruri-chan merch, you scum!”

“I didn’t take ANYTHING! Why ya’ always accusin’ me?”

“Are you two going to keep fighting? I’m trying to get beauty sleep! I require at least 9 hours for my youthful complexion!”

“Ridiculous.”

“HEY! Don’t do that!”

“Tell him to give it back!”

“Or what?”

You grabbed your pillow and pressed it against your face. Living with the demons was an...experience, to say the least. You could still make out the muffled voices even through the soft fabric and let out a low groan. You threw open the door.

“Mammon, stop being an ass and give the figure back. Levi, keep your door locked. Asmo, your complexion is fine. SHUT UP.”

The boys stopped yelling and looked at you. It was rare for you to yell at them, but you were TIRED. They had kept you up half the night with pointless arguments and texts asking you to be on their side and you were exhausted from it.

Mammon was the first to speak.

“Yeah, you heard her. You guys keep trying to start fights and it’s exhausting the poor human.” He threw his arm around you, and you groaned.

“You know what? You clearly don’t listen to me. It’s fine. But you’re gonna regret it. I can’t be so stressed all the time with this. I’m going out tonight. AND I DON’T WANT ANY OF YOU TO JOIN ME!”

Lucifer appeared out of nowhere and glared at you.

“That’s impossible. You know it’s too dangerous for a human to go out by themselves here. I’ll go with you.”

His stare was piercing into your soul, but you stood your ground. You fought the shakiness in your voice.

“No. I made it very clear. I do not want any of you to join me. Respect my decision.”

An audible gasp came from one of the boys. No one stood up to Lucifer. Sure Satan and Belphie argued with him, but coming from you? This was going to be interesting.

“You are not leaving this house without a chaperone. Now you can either stay in, or I will accompany you.”

You narrowed your eyes. And then an idea in the shape of an orange haired demon boy came walking down the hall.

“Fine. I’ll take Beel.”

The rest of the brothers began to protest.

“I’ll go!”

“No, me. She’s my human!”

“Seriously?? Beel?”

“ENOUGH.” Lucifer bellowed, silencing everyone. Before he could continue, you interjected.

“Beel will you go with me to The Fall tonight?”

Beel looked up from his bag of chips. His lack of situational awareness when he was focused on food was astonishing really.

“Of course MC, and we can grab dinner after too.”

You cocked your head at Lucifer.

“Then it’s settled.”

And with that, you turned back into your room and slammed the door.

-----

The night couldn’t come fast enough. You had been ignoring texts and knocks on your door all day from the rest of the brothers and you were ready to go drink, dance, and flirt the night away.

You didn’t expect Beel to do much of either but he was good company and you know he would get the best food in town. As you finished applying your makeup, you heard a knock at the door. Beel’s deep voice rang out.

“You ready, MC?”

You took another look in the mirror. Your black dress accented every curve of your body. The halter top showed off your shoulders and the keyhole cut showed off your cleavage. Your hair was loosely tousled and you spritzed a bit of perfume over yourself before heading to the door.

“Yeah I’m—” Your voice caught in your throat.

Beel, the goofy, relaxed guy cleaned up WELL. He had a dark leather jacket over a white v-neck that accentuated his muscular figure. He had a few silver chains layered around his neck and a couple silver rings on his hands. He was wearing dark jeans and black boots and...fuck...he looked HOT.

You always knew Beel was attractive, but this...this was new. You had half a mind to cancel the night and drag him into your bed.

You turned away, to grab your handbag and hide your heated face and Beel took the opportunity to stare at you. He had always found you gorgeous, but knowing he was the lucky guy accompanying you to the club had him feeling some type of way. HIs eyes roamed your body and locked on every inch of skin exposed. He could feel his body heat up and when you finally had grabbed your stuff, he prayed you wouldn’t notice his apparent blush.

The two of you headed to his car, a shiny black Ferrari, and he opened the door to let you in the passenger seat. You could tell he had cleaned it, since the usual bed of snack wrappers that adorned the interior were gone. You smiled at the gesture and he waited until you were situated before closing the door and getting in on his side.

As he drove to the Fall, you admired him. His body was massive and built and his hands, god his hands, looked so good gripping the wheel. You imagined what they would feel like wrapped around your neck or clutching the sheets —

“...I really think it would be cool!”

You blinked.

“Sorry, I completely spaced out. What?”

He glanced at you and chuckled.

“You look like you’re thinking a lot about something. What’s up?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m just happy I get to have fun tonight.” You shot him a smile.

Beel blushed. “I’m happy I get to hang out with you.”

He pulled into the parking space and opened your door for you. As the two of you walked towards the entrance of the club, he could see a few demons checking you out. He pulled you close to him and wrapped his hand around your waist, before throwing them a dark look.

Your mind reeled. You pressed into him and could smell the spicy scent of his cologne. You hoped the dimness of the club and the thumping music hid how much your heart was beating. You flagged down a waitress for a shot of something and handed one to Beel. The two of you toasted before downing the glasses.

The sweet liquid electrified you and you could feel your body loosen. You looked at Beel to see him licking his lips. He grabbed two more glasses from a passing waiter and passed one to you. Another clink of the shot glasses and this time the drink was rich and fiery as it slid down your throat. As the two of you polished off more drinks, you began to feel restless.

You tugged on his hand, emboldened by the alcohol.

“Dance with me.”

He nodded and let you pull him into the sea of moving bodies.

You pressed yourself against him with your back to his chest. His hands were wrapped around you, gently but firmly pulling you into him. The bass drummed in your body and you threw your head back into him. The combination of alcohol and the crowd, not to mention his fingers sliding down your thighs made your body heat up and you felt so good.

Beel leaned into you, tilting his head down. His breath tickled your ear, as his low voice whispered.

“How do you feel, cupcake?”

“Good, so good.” you breathed out, not even sure if he heard you. He must have though, because he twirled you so you were facing him. You looked up at him through your eyelashes. His skin was flushed and he had a cute smirk on his lips. The flashing club lights cast a hazy neon glow behind him. Before you could stop yourself, you pressed your lips against his.

His mouth tasted sweet and warm. He deepened the kiss as his hands ran down your back, gripping at your ass. Your tongues danced in each other’s mouths and you dug your nails into his shirt, feeling the hard muscles underneath. You could feel his excitement press against your thigh through his jeans and you let out a soft moan into his mouth.

Beel let out a pained groan.

“I need you, right now.” he whispered into your neck, pressing hungry kisses down.

“Not here. Home.” you gasped out. While you weren’t against fucking in the club bathroom, Beel was the largest demon there and it would be plainly obvious if you tried to sneak in with each other.

He nodded and pulled your hand as you headed out of the building. You made your way to his car while he continued to kiss and suck on every bit of exposed skin. He pushed you up against the door of the black car and kissed you eagerly.

“Fuck...cupcake, you’re so delicious. Need more of you.”

You moaned. It was taking all of your willpower to not let him bend you over the hood of his car, but you resisted.

“Take us home and then show me how much you need me.” You whispered into his neck, before leaving a soft kiss.

As Beel drove, his other hand was gripping your thigh, dangerously close to your heat. You leaned over and kissed down his neck, leaving soft bites on the sensitive skin. He let out a low grunt, and slid his hand up your dress, running a thick finger across your clothed pussy. You were soaked and he could feel your arousal through the thin fabric.

You grinded against his hand, craving any bit of stimulation from him. He pressed his fingers against you, teasing your slit through your clothes.

The car slowed in front of the House of Lamentation and he pulled his hand away. He turned to you and whispered.

“We have to be quiet.”

The two of you stumbled into the house, looking around for any of the other occupants. It was dark and silent. Beel pushed you against the heavy front door and kissed you deeply. You wrapped your hands around his shoulders as he lifted you up with your back against the door. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he continued kissing your lips, trailing down your neck and shoulders.

“Beel we should go. Someone might see us!” You breathed out, half delirious from how good his mouth felt on you.

“Good. I want them to know you’re mine.” he growled into your skin, leaving what was sure to be dark marks to explain away later.

“Lucifer will kill us.” You giggled, though your resolve was crumbling away with every kiss. Beel grunted, and then pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours. His amethyst eyes sparkled from the moonlight.

“Yeah, actually that is a pretty scary thought. Let’s go to your room.”

The two of you crept to your door, being extra cautious when you passed each brother’s room. As soon as you clicked the lock, Beel picked you up and easily tossed you onto the plush bedsheets.

“Finally.” He growled, before pushing up your dress and pressing hot kisses against your thighs. You let out a soft whimper. He tugged at the thin lacy material covering you and you felt him smirk against you.

“So pretty.”

He slowly dragged them down and pressed his mouth against your folds. His tongue flattened and lapped at your cunt, eliciting a loud moan from you. He circled your clit with his tongue, before sucking it into his mouth. You clawed at the sheets.

“Fuck...Beel please! Need you.”

He continued his delicious assault on your body, pressing his tongue inside you.

“You taste so good. Please cum in my mouth. Wan’ taste you” He mumbled into your pussy. You writhed against his mouth and you could feel your thighs tense up and attempt to close on him. He gripped into the soft flesh of them and forced your legs apart while he continued, pushing you closer to your release.

“Fuck...Beel! I’m gonna–”, was all you could muster before you felt the rush of your orgasm hit you. He groaned into your cunt as he guzzled you down. Your eyes fluttered and you tried to push his head away.

“No...mine...so good.” He moaned hungrily. Your body shook against him.

“S’ sensitive, please…” you begged. Beel was the avatar of gluttony and you knew he could spend days between your thighs but you wanted him, all of him.

He pulled away, his face wet with your juices. His eyes were hazy and unfocused and he looked drunk on you. He pulled off his shirt and jeans before pushing you back into the soft bed. You took this moment to take a look at his cock and your eyes widened. Before you could panic, he was on top of you. His silver chains dangled off his neck as he towered over you and his hands held your wrists above your head. You gazed up at him and your breath hitched as he lined his cock up with your entrance. Beel was BIG and you knew it was going to be a tight squeeze. Sensing your hesitation, he pressed a kiss to your lips.

“I’ll go slow and tell me if you need me to stop.” He looked at you waiting for confirmation. You nodded and bit your lip.

“Please…” you whispered and he pushed into you.

The stretch was intense and your eyes watered as he eased himself into you. But quickly the pain morphed into an intense pleasure. You felt every vein of his cock press against your walls and he stilled.

“You okay, cupcake?”

You nodded, and he pulled slightly out before slowly rocking back into you. You felt so full and started to buck your hips against him. He started fucking into you faster and you cried out as his cock hit the most pleasurable spots inside you.

“Fuck...fuck...fuck. So good! Feel’s so fucking good.” you moaned out as Beel slammed into you. You opened your eyes and noticed Beel had transformed into his demon form. His horns glinted in the light that streamed in from your window and your eyes rolled back.

“So good. Squeezing me so tight...I wanted this so long. Let me claim you, MC. Make you mine.” Beel grunted as he fucked you into the mattress. You could feel his claws dig into the skin around your wrist and you squeezed your legs around him, pressing him closer into you.

“Yes...I’m yours! Please...fuck me, use me. I need you so goddamn bad!” you wailed, feeling your second orgasm of the night rapidly approach you. He kissed you hard and you tasted the desire on his tongue as you thrashed under him. You could feel the soft walls of your cunt clenching tighter against his cock and every cell in your body was on the edge of explosion. You felt stars dance behind your eyes and you gripped at his biceps, dragging your nails down across the lightly tanned skin.

“I’m gonna–gonna…” Beel grunted, his thrusts getting sloppier and faster. His breath was ragged and he pushed his cock as deep as he could.

Your pussy clamped down around his cock and you arched your back from the sheets as you gushed around him. Beel’s eyes rolled back and he groaned as he shot his cum deep inside you. You could feel his hot cum spurt into your cunt and he gripped your shoulders tightly as he rode out his release. He slowly pulled out of you, before using two fingers to scoop the dripping cum back into your hole.

“So good. So full.” He mumbled. You looked down and could see the slight bulge from the amount of cum he had filled you with. You laid back down and sighed in satisfaction.

“Fuck that was amazing.” you whispered, suddenly aware of how loud the two of you had been.

He got up and pulled you against his chest, running his fingers through your hair.

“It really was. I wanna do that again.” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your head. You giggled and buried deeper in his chest.

“Maybe not tonight, but yes we will definitely do that again.” you mumbled into him, smiling as your eyes started to close. Before the both of you drifted off to sleep, your eyes widened.

“Beel!” you whispered, startling him awake, “We never got dinner!”

It was silent for a moment before the two of you burst into laughter. Beel grinned before softly speaking.

“It’s strange MC. When I’m with you, I don’t feel as hungry. It’s like another part of me is full.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. A soft smile danced on your lips and you kissed him, pouring as much love into the kiss as possible. You pulled away and buried yourself into the crook of his neck, and as your breath slowed and you fell deeper into sleep, Beel wrapped himself around you and let himself rest.

#beelzebub smut #beelzebub x mc #beel x mc #beel x reader #beel smut #obey me x reader #obey me smut #OBEY ME #obey me shall we date

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melancholymetropolis · 3 years

Text

Cloud Nine

Pairings: Roommate! Hitoshi Shinso x Reader

Summary: The reader gets stood up and Shinso decides to make it up to her.

Warnings: Explicit Content. Porn with Plot. Slightly edited. Based off of this cover. All characters are aged up.

Author's Note: Hello to all! I have missed you guys. It's been a while. Finals have been kicking my ass but, I am back! This fic is a good blend of fluff and smut. Maybe a little bit of angst. If you would like to commission me, click here! I set a new goal, so please check it! Thanks for your support, it means a lot to me.

Word Count: 4500

The sound of the front door slamming shut resonated through the apartment, quickly followed by the echo of heavy footsteps trailing down the hall. They came to an abrupt pause; interrupted by the splashing of water in the sink and the ripping of a paper towel. He must’ve found the freshly baked cookies I left on the counter. The footsteps sound again but they stop short of my room. A firm knock rattled from my door; I looked up from my laptop and shouted “come in!” My roommate opened the door, appearing in front of me, dressed in his usual attire. Workout jacket and running shorts with a gym bag tossed over his shoulder. Shinso had already taken a bite out of the freshly baked cookie nestled in the paper, and tiny crumbs had been sprinkled around his mouth.

“You’re home earlier than I expected,” he said as he dropped his gym bag by my door and took a seat in my desk chair. “I thought you had a date with that producer guy.”

“Yeah, I did,” I closed my laptop and pushed it to the side. “But, he never showed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Shinso said before taking another bite of his cookie. He chewed it slowly before adding, “I had a feeling something was wrong since you baked.”

“I don’t only bake when I’m sad, So-so,” I replied as I rubbed the back of my neck.

“You’re right,” he took another bite of the cookie and swallowed. “You only make your comfort cookies when you’re sad.”

I gave him a quizzical look and he took it as an initiative to continue.

“When you’re sad or have a bad day, you always make double chocolate cookies with walnuts. And if you’re peeved, you add Nutella in the middle. Like today. So, if you don’t mind telling me what’s wrong, I’d be happy to listen.” Shinso finished off his cookie and brushed his mouth with the paper towel. His purple eyes gleaming up at me with concern.

“It’s just. . .” I crossed my legs underneath me and sighed. All the built-up frustration exploded out of me in three words, “Men are trash.”

Shinso’s face remained completely neutral; he didn’t even flinch at the statement. “How so?”

I groaned and dropped my head into my hands. “Okay, so last week, remember when I was wearing that super-cute outfit?”

“You gotta be more specific, you always wear cute outfits,” he said with a confused look in his eye.

“It was a Tuesday. I was wearing some bell-bottom jeans and a pink halter top that said ‘cherry bomb’. Do you remember that?”

“You had two buns on your head that day,” he added in recollection.

“I did! Well, I bumped into Justin on my way to the studio and we talked for a few minutes. Towards the end of the conversation, he gave me his number and asked me to dinner. I was ecstatic and practically skipped down the fucking street!”

“Sounds like something you’d do.”

“So, we’ve been texting all of last week and this week. I am under the illusion that we’re on for dinner. All of a sudden, he doesn’t reply to my texts this morning. I brushed it off and continued about my day. I went to the agreed restaurant and waited an hour in my car for him. Texting him the entire time, just for him to give me a reply on my ride home.”

“What did it say?”

“‘Sorry, something came up.’”

“Wow. . . what an asshole.”

“I know! Such a fucking jerk.”

We stayed silent for a minute or two before Shinso rose from my desk chair and walked to my door. He grabbed his gym bag from the floor and turned back to me. “I ordered from that restaurant you like, down the street, once I saw the cookies on the counter. I figured you could use some comfort food. It’ll be here in a little while, so I’m going to take a quick shower, then we could eat together. If you’re cool with that?”

“Sure, that’s fine. I’ll see you when you get out,” I replied with a look of astonishment on my face.

“Okay, see you in a bit.”

The pro-hero exited the room and gently closed the door behind him. My eyes remained in that general area, seconds after he left. Processing all the information that he gave to me. Wakatoshi Shinso. . . a man that I cannot describe in words. But, if I had to condense it, to say what he was, all I could say is that he cares. So much about me. Before moving in together, he was simply a friend-of-a-friend. We were cordial, always said “hi” in passing, and never left a bad impression. So, when I found an apartment, and he needed a room, it was a no-brainer. Shinso was the ideal roommate. Quiet, calm, and collected. He always made me breakfast, even though he was always up significantly earlier than I was. If I was too tired, he’d tidy up my leftover dishes and straighten up my things. When I had my period and ran out of pads, he went to the drug store and bought me some. Including chocolate ice cream and painkillers. He doesn’t mind doing the grocery shopping alone and doesn’t complain when I leave my bra on the bathroom door. He wiped my tears when my boyfriend left me and brought me flowers the next day.

Shinso was perfect in every way.

I was lucky to have him in my life.

The doorbell rang and I rose from my bed and raced to the door. Just as he said, Shinso had ordered from my favorite restaurant, as seen by the menu poking out of the biggest bag. I gave the delivery boy a small smile and thanked him, before shutting the door and walking into the kitchen. I placed the takeout bag on the counter and began to take out all the items from the bag. He brought chicken parmesan, mushroom ravioli, fettuccine alfredo, vodka alla penne, and two garden salads. In the second, smaller bag, were two pints of ice cream and complimentary miniature cannolis.

“I didn’t know what you were in the mood for so I got a little bit of everything,” his voice echoed throughout the room, causing me to jump.

“Jesus—” I looked up from the array of food to my roommate. Who was dripping wet and practically steaming from his shower. Grey sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips, extenuating his sharp v-line. He was shirtless, which wasn’t something new, he often walked around the apartment that way; however, the droplets sprinkled about his bare chest were doing things to me. His damp hair was slicked back, combed out of his face. Shinso walked around the kitchen’s island and popped open the lid off one of the containers. The display of his bruised knuckles resting on the counter caused my insides to churn.

Maybe it was the way Justin ghosted me earlier, or maybe it was the way Shinso cared for me— the longer I looked at him, the more I wanted him to bend me over the sink and make me scream.

An intense blush flushed over my face and I instinctively bit my bottom lip.

Without missing a beat, my roommate placed his hand on mine and locked eyes with me. “Is there something wrong?”

“I. . . ugh. . .” I looked away from him and down at the ground. “I’m fine.”

I could feel his violet-purple eyes squint with uncertainty. Shinso gently squeezed my hand and released a sigh. “I was thinking about what you said about ‘men being trash’ and how Justin was an asshole to you.”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe you're looking in the wrong place."

I looked up at his face, taking in his flushed-out expression. Although his wet hair gave him a more refined aura. His cheeks highlighted his boyish charm. Shinso's hand lifted from mine and found itself underneath my chin. My eyes automatically snapped toward his and my breath got caught in my throat. He had an unwavering stare upon his face that made me weak in the knees. Shinso’s eyes slowly closed and brought his face closer to mine. I gripped his shirt and pressed a kiss firmly against his lips. Every muscle in my body relaxed and I felt his arm securely wrapped around me. I moaned against his lips and loosened my grip on his shirt. I dug my fingers in his hair and pressed my body against his.

“I want you,” he groaned against my lips.

“Then, take me,” I replied as I untied his sweatpants. And kissed him again.

Shinso tore away and guided me to the couch. He gazed down at me, a questionable look in his eye. “Are you sure?”

I lifted the oversized tee-shirt over my head and tossed it to the side, My chest was completely bare, my ample breasts in the view of the towering athlete. “I’m all yours.”

Shinso’s eyes darkened. His demeanor was intense and serious. He wrapped his arms around me and lifted my legs to his waist. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” he grunted before capturing my lips in a kiss.

I wrapped my arms around his neck. My bare chest against his; my heartbeat in my ears and his body heat warming my soul. I wanted to be as close to him as I possibly could. I needed to be closer to him than I ever was before. “Take me to your room.”

Without hesitation, the pro-hero took long paces to his vacant space. He gently sat me on the edge of the bed and look down at me. “Open your legs.”

I scooted my by rear further on the bed and placed both feet on the neatly tucked duvet. My knees were facing the ceiling and my clothed womanhood was facing him.

Shinso swiftly dropped to his knees and brought his face to my inner thigh. Featherlike kisses sprinkled along the soft tissue and goosebumps ran up my back. When he got to my core, after taking his sweet time, he pushed the soft short and panties to the side before lapping the dripping center. My legs gently twitched and my eyes rolled back. His soft muscle continued to lap its sweet nectar and I swore I could see God Himself. After a short while, he had gotten bored of pushing my garments to the side, so Shinso tenderly removed them from my legs. I halfway expected him to rip them to shreds but I guess he was too gentlemanly for such savage behavior.

The athlete looked up at me with a wistful expression and asked a simple question. “Do you mind if I use my fingers?”

I paused for a minute and smiled. “Come here.”

Temporarily rising from his position on the floor, the massive man laid his body between my legs and hovered his face above mine. “Yes?”

“You use whatever you see fit,” I replied while looking into his eyes. “I trust you.”

Without so much as a second glance, Shinso walks to his nightstand and unlocks the bottom drawer. He pulls out a Hitachi wand, an eye mask, and bondage cuffs. “Are you comfortable with these?”

A blush dusted my cheeks as I looked at the items. “Oh my, I never knew this side of you existed.” I reached for the eye mask and placed it on my head. Then, I lifted my arms over my head and gripped the bedpost. I winked and finally said, “I’m ready when you are.”

Shinso turned to the top drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a condom. “I should’ve confessed sooner.”

I nodded with appropriate enthusiasm and widened my legs. “Please continue what you had been doing earlier. I want you.”

The athlete reached down to my face and pulled the eye mask over my eyes. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

His feather-like touches littered against the right side of my body and I swore I could feel my senses come alive. I felt the bed sink in between my legs and his warm hands reposition my hips on the bed. “Hold your legs up for me, baby.”

I did as instructed and took a deep breath.

I could feel his hot breath fan my naked cunt and all I could do was drip in anticipation. His coarse thumbs spread the thick lips apart; cool air fanned my bud. After a few seconds of no movement, his hot mouth pressed against the dripping mess. A long, deep moan arose from me, as my legs jolted again. He blew against my womanhood, creating a slurry of my nectar and his saliva. I could feel it drip down my cunt and to my rear slowly. Seductively almost. His soft tongue pushed its way into my smooth center and I felt my walls clench. He bobbed his head forward and back; probing me with his tongue as he went. I furrowed my brows and arched my back. Gripping the back of my knees, I bucked my hips against his mouth as slutty moans left my lips.

“Mmm. . . you feel so good, So-so,” I chanted as I whipped my head to the side.

He groaned against my womanhood, before pulling away briefly. He reached up the bed and gripped his desired item. Once I heard a distinctive buzzing, I knew it was the wand. He pressed the toy against my bud, possibly wanting to see my reaction to it. I moaned at the light vibrations and squirmed underneath it. A hum passed his lips as I felt his fingers gently toy with my entrance. One finger slowly went in, curling upward to the desired pleasure button. Shinso used that finger for about a minute before adding a second one. He presses his fingertips against the roof of my cunny and started to jab them upward. I bit my lip and dug my nails into my thighs at the added friction. I could feel a soft pool gather in my stomach and I knew my climax was near.

“Oh fuck! Oh, fuck!” I practically yelled as I gripped the sheets.

Shinso kept his same pace. I could imagine observing the incoming orgasm rise from my toes down my calves and thighs and to my abdomen.

I furrowed my eyes again and brought my legs closer to my chest. “Oh fuck. Oh, fuck! Oh shit!” My legs shoot violently as my toes clenched tightly. My breathing increased and tingles encased my whole body. Then, all of a sudden, all the feelings in my body stopped. And all I could hear was the buzzing of the vibrator in my room. For those two seconds, every fiber of my being clenched, including my walls around Shinso’s fingers. I could feel tears form in my eyes as a throaty moan fell from my lips and my back arched against the bed. I released the grip on my legs and allowed them to shake chaotically against the mattress. I reached under my head for the pillow and squeezed it around my head as I rode out the pleasable wave.

When my legs stopped shaking and my breathing calmed down, I released the pillow and lifted my head. “So-so?”

“I’m here,” he swiftly replied before removing the eye mask from my face. Shinso looked at me with a loving expression and placed a hand on my cheek. “Are you okay? That seemed pretty intense.”

“It was,” I replied looking at him with doe eyes. “Can you just. . . hold me for a while? I don’t think I’m ready to continue.”

“Of course.” He climbed into the bed and wrapped his arms around me. His violet eyes gazed down at me with such repertoire that it was almost impossible to keep contact.

“Is there something wrong?” I asked feeling so insecure.

“No, I just. . .” Shinso cut himself off. Somehow trying to find the right thing to say at that moment. He pulled my body closer to his before pressing his lips to my forehead and saying “ I love you.”

I froze. My breath caught in my throat. My heartbeat pausing its usual rhythm. My mind was completely cleared of any passing thought. “How. . . long have you known?”

“Not too long. About a few minutes.”

“Wait,” I pulled away from him and sat up in the bed. “What do you mean ‘a few minutes’?”

Shinso took a deep breath and followed my motions. “I realized I loved you when you told me you trusted me and proceeded to relinquish control. I had never seen you so vulnerable with anyone and we have known each other for five years. It meant a lot to me and everything else just. . . clicked in my brain.”

“So, all the ordering food and tampons. . . you didn’t do that to get me to put my guard down? You did it just because?”

“Well, yeah. I thought that’s what good roommates do. At least, that’s what Tendou says they do.”

“Wow. . . I. . . need a minute to digest. . . all of this.”

“Take your time.”

I spent the next few days hovering about our shared apartment. Replaying those three tiny, tiny words in my mind. I love you. He loved me. Shinso loved me. He didn’t do all those nice things because he wanted to use me or my body for his pleasure. He did it because he wanted to be a good roommate. Shinso wasn’t the type of man to say things he didn’t mean— hell, he doesn’t even speak the majority of the time. He meant what he said. And I couldn’t gather my thoughts to see how I felt about him. I knew what he meant to me. I knew I didn’t see myself living with anyone else and the thought of him being with another woman infuriated me. After a short while, I picked up a pen and grabbed my keyboard to write a song.

Justin found time to text me again; notifying me that he wanted to make up for our failed date by giving a free studio session. Being the starving artist that I was, I took up the offer. On a whim, I texted Shinso to meet at the studio, half expecting him to decline my answer. He didn’t. Shinso walked into the small room, still in his volleyball uniform. His violet eyes brightened when I smiled at him. He gave me a small smirk and a short wave.

Justin, completely taken back by the massive player, gawked at Shinso’s sheer size. “Damn, how tall are you?”

“Six foot four inches,” Shinso stated in a bland expression.

“Wow,” Justin turned away from the athlete and back to me. “I’m ready when you are.”

I took a deep breath, readjusted my keyboard, and looked ahead. “I’m ready.”

I started playing the keys and looking down at the lyrics on my notebook page.

I don’t want to seem the way I do

But I’m confident when I’m with you

I looked up at Shinso with a weak smile.

Lately, all I feel is bad and bruised

Tired of tripping on my shoes

I squeezed my eyes shut and finished the rest of the course.

But when he loves me I

Feel like I’m floating, when

He calls me pretty, I

Feel like somebody.

Even when we fade,

Eventually to nothing,

You will always be my favorite form of loving.

I opened my eyes and looked up at Shinso. His cheeks were a slight pink and his eyes were slightly closed. He seemed somewhat embarrassed by the lyrics, yet really into them.

I finished the lyrics, making sure I kept eye contact with him for the entirety of the song. I watched his shoulders relax, and jaw clench at the sound of the lyrics. He leaned forward as if to hear me better. Shinso’s boyish charm was completely exposed and I was loving every second of it.

When the song ended, Justin stood up and clapped from the other end of the glass. He clicked a button and shouted for me to come out.

“You were so good!” He practically shouted to the top of his lungs. “I should’ve gotten you here sooner.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you,” I said with a chuckle.

“Please tell me you’re free this Friday, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Justin gave me a hopeful look.

“Actually— “

“She has plans with me this Friday,” Shinso chimed harshly.

Justin looked between the two of us and simply nodded. “I totally get it. Shoot me a text when you are free though. We should talk business.”

“Of course!” I replied with a smile.

Shinso and I trotted out of the studio shortly after the exchange. He remained silent within the elevator of the building. Inside the cab home. And, as we walked through the front door. It was after he retreated into his room and took a shower when he finally spoke to me.

“Did you write that song for me?” Shinso asked after taking a seat in my desk chair.

“I did,” I answered simply.

“Does that mean you. . . share my feelings?” He proceeded to question me.

“Yes, I love you, Shinso,” I offered the response slowly.

He rose from my chair and sat across from me on my bed. “Tell me again.”

“I love you, Shinso.”

His lips captured mine in a heated kiss. His calloused hands pulled me closer to him as mine latched in his hair. I leaned back against the bed and spread my legs to give him more access. I moaned against his lips and moved my hips against his groin.

“Do you want to continue?” Shinso asked as pulled away. “We can always—”

“Hurry up and grab the condoms from the top drawer,” I interjected as I unhooked my arms to peel my shirt off.

Without a word, the athlete scooted from the bed and did as he was told. Shinso swiftly removed his sweats and tossed them to the side. He ripped the plastic packet open with his teeth and rolled the rubber on his member. He climbed back onto the bed proceeded to yank my bottoms off my body and spread my legs. Shinso positioned his member against my center and looked up at me. Once I gave him an eager nod, he sunk himself into me. A soul-shaking moan erupted from the two of us, followed by a curse underneath our breaths. He leaned down to give me a soft kiss before slowly rocking his hips against mine.

Gentle moans fell from my lips as I arched my back against his thrusts. “You feel so good, baby.” I brought my hands up my legs and navel; I latched my digits onto my ample breasts and gave them a slight squeeze.

Shinso readjusted my hips and lifted my legs in the air. His fingertips pressed firmly in the soft flesh of my thigh as he had begun to drop his hips down onto mine in such a harsh manner. My walls clenched around him, as I felt myself begin to ooze even more onto him. The new stimulation was making my whole body heat up and I desperately wanted more of it. I gripped the sheets tightly and gazed at his flushed-out face.

God, he looked so powerful fucking me like that. His muscles flexed with each thrust and sweat began dotting his abdomen. The pink hue on his cheeks and the clenching of his jaw made my insides tingle.

I was more attracted to this man than I could ever possibly know.

Suddenly, his pace started to slow down and his hips started to spasm. Just a tad. He was so close to his peak.

“You take me so well, sweetheart,” Shinso grunted lowly. “You’re tight cunt is milking me dry.”

I smirked. “Are you about to cum?”

His violet eyes narrowed and he paused his thrusts. “On your belly, now.”

“Yes, sir,” I teased as I rolled onto my stomach. Chest pressed against the bed and hips in the air.

The athlete gripped my hips as he eased his member back into me. “Rub that needy clit of yours, nice and slow.”

I tucked a hand between my legs and flicked my fingers softly. A small moan fell from my lips as my hips began to twitch slightly.

“Looks like you’re not gonna last too long, baby,” I could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Of course not, you know how to make me cum,” I said with a giggle.

“I am the only one that will be doing that from this point on, understood?” His gripped tightened around my waist and I could feel his hips begin to twitch slightly.

“Understood,” I grunted as I felt the warm pool fill in my stomach. “I’m getting close, baby.”

“Move your hand faster,” Shinso instructed while keeping his pace.

I flicked my wrist faster and immediately felt the climax rising my legs and thighs and gathering at my stomach. I clenched and released my walls several times before releasing a gurgle-like moan. “Ahh fuck. Ahh, fuck!”

“You better not stop moving your hand, princess,” he warned in a low tone.

“I’m not! I promise!” I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lip. “Please let me cum! I wanna cum so bad! Oh, God!”

“Go ahead, you deserve it,” he grunted as he began to move his hips faster.

“Oh fuck!” I gripped the sheets tightly and moved my hand even faster. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

I clenched my walls ever so tightly and squeezed my eyes shut. In the pit of my stomach, I felt a soft soap bubble pop and ooze out to the rest of my body. My entire body clenched, and my hand pressed hard against my clit as I rode out the orgasm. My eyes rolled to the back of my head and my tongue fell out of my mouth. Drool dripped down my chin as the stars behind my eyelids faded. After a few seconds, I slumped forward onto the bed and opened my eyes.

“Oh fuck. . .” I gurgled as my body finished twitching.

Shinso slid out of my smooth canal and kissed down my sweaty back before laying next to me. He gathered me into his arms and looked down at my overly stimulated body. “Promise me you’ll be mine and only mine.”

With half-closed lids, I looked up at him and said, “You buy me food when I’m sad, you get me tampons when I’m bleeding, AND you made me cum so hard I almost blacked out. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you be with someone else.”

He chuckled. “I love you.”

“You better, because you can’t get rid of me. I’m in too deep,” I replied as I snuggled closer to him. After a short moment of silence, I said “I love you, too.”

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asirensrage · 3 years

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there's a heaven above you (don't you cry) - Part 1

Rating: M Pairing: Lost Boys/OC Fandom: The Lost Boys Warnings: swearing, vampires, violence, blood, I don’t know what else yet. Summary: The thing no one ever tells you about time travel is that you don’t have any control over where you end up or when you leave. It just happens. It also hurts like a bitch. previous/masterlist Part 1. Talk Dirty to Me

The weirdest thing about working in a thrift store was that the clothes that came in probably belonged to the dead. Also, she was pretty sure it was haunted. Which wasn’t too surprising, all things considered, but it was still unnerving to think about.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

She looked up at Clark. The kid was in his early teens and testing out rebellion with bright green hair. It was tame compared to others on the boardwalk.

She grinned. “I got my mind on my money and my money on my mind,” she sang lightly. He blinked at her and she shrugged. “Give it a few years. You’ll see.”

“Okay…” he dragged out, looking at her in confusion. It wasn’t the first time she got that look. She turned back to the shirts she was repricing. “Got any tips?”

She glanced at him before looking up at the ceiling, thinking. She gave tips that were fairly harmless to people she liked.

“Hmm...how old are you again?”

“Fourteen.”

“Join a boy band.” His face scrunched up in disgust and she burst out laughing. “Trust me, it’d be worth it.”

“You’re so warped.”

“Yup,” she said, popping the p as she grinned. “What’s new with you?”

“Nothin’,” he slumped down against the counter. She waited. There was no harm in letting him hang out. It kept him out of trouble. The store was quiet in the afternoon hours. “The Surf Nazis are being assholes again.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What’d they do?”

“Nothing I can’t handle!” he protested.

She watched him for a second but nodded. “Alright,” she finally said. “But if they give you any more trouble, let me know.” His nose scrunched up at the thought of being saved by a girl and she couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t worry. Give it a couple of years and they’ll be irrelevant.”

“Yeah? How do you know?” He looked skeptical. She couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t like she could tell him the truth.

“People like that always are.”

“Huh.” He wandered the aisles before he left without a word. She didn’t protest. It was his only vice.

---

She turned back to the clothes on the desk. The store was still quiet and the repetitive motion of repricing gave her time to think. The town she ended up in was perfect for a girl out of time. It was constantly in motion, filled with people travelling or running from something. The unexpected and unexplained arrival of someone without anything to their name didn’t raise any eyebrows. The only weird thing was all the missing people...and the possible haunting of the store.

“Hey! Darcy!”

She looked up at the sound of her name. It wasn’t her real name, which she kept secret, but something she stole off of a favourite character from a movie. It fit well. A new name for a new girl. She smiled at the sight of the bubbly woman walking towards her.

“Frankie,” she greeted. “How’s it going?”

Frankie smiled as she reached the counter. She wore high-waisted faded jeans and a bright pink top that hung off of one shoulder. Eighties fashion never failed to surprise her.

“Fantabulous!” Frankie grinned. “I got into UCLA!”

“Congrats!” Darcy leaned over the counter to give the other woman a hug which was enthusiastically returned.

“Thanks! It’ll be a while before I go, but I’m so glad to get out of here!” Frankie paused and gave her a once over. “What are you wearing?”

She looked down at her outfit. It was a fifties style red dress with black polka dots that had a tight halter top before flaring out at the waist. It had been a lucky find in this place. Darcy’s hair was currently a bright aquamarine and pulled back at the side with a pin curl in the front to keep it out of her face. It had to match the dress, after all. The problem with the rockabilly style was that it wasn’t even a thing yet, not like it was back home. She stuck out like a sore thumb.

She grinned at Frankie. “Like it?”

“Well, it works for you,” she admitted slowly. “But it’s very joanie.” It took a second to figure out what she was saying. Thankfully, she clarified. “You look like a housewife.”

“Yeah,” Darcy nodded. “A housewife with good taste in music.”

“I’m sure,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Are you coming to the boardwalk tonight? It’s going to be rad.”

“Who’s playing?” The only way the Boardwalk would be rad was if there was a band playing.

“Some new band called Poison. I hear they’re totally righteous.”

Darcy looked at her in surprise. Poison? She wasn’t a huge fan but she knew some of their music back when they were considered classic rock. They must just be coming onto the scene. She couldn’t miss it. “I’m in,” she said.

“Awesome,” Frankie grinned. “Meet me at the boardwalk tonight, by the funnel cakes. We’ll go together, ‘k?” Darcy nodded as Frankie headed for the door. “Later!” She walked out, singing some Madonna song.

Darcy sighed and turned back to the clothes. The eighties were weird.

---

The Boardwalk was crowded as usual. Despite the high amount of missing people, it didn’t stop anyone from showing up to this place. She also stood out in her dress, even with the neon clothes and multicoloured hair of the people around her.

“Ah ow!” she heard someone catcall as she walked past the tile-a-whirl. “Come on, baby, you have me sprung!” She rolled her eyes at the wannabe punks and kept going. It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last. Boys were boys no matter what decade.

She found Frankie exactly where she said she would be but she wasn’t alone. Next to her was a guy with long, wild blond hair and possibly the tightest pants I had seen so far. He looked like he belonged on stage. As she moved closer, she recognized him. Part of one of the gangs she had been warned about when she first arrived. What was the name again? Something to do with Peter Pan.

“Darcy!” Frankie called out, waving an arm to greet her. The biker turned to look at her and she saw his eyes widen.

“Woah girl, where’d you come from?”

“Time travelled, obviously,” she snarked back automatically. Tell the truth in the right way and no one believed you.

He just laughed. “The guys will get a kick out of you!”

“How nice,” she said dryly. She looked over at Frankie to see her pressed up against the man, her arm wrapped around his waist. It was odd, considering Frankie had just recently broken up with her ex from what Darcy remembered. Though, maybe she was rebounding. “I’m going to grab a good spot. You coming?”

“Yeah,” Frankie nodded. “But, like, Paul wanted to wait for his brothers.” She assumed Paul was the blond biker.

“I’m gonna go ahead then,” Darcy said, motioning over her shoulder with her thumb. Paul was watching her carefully, and there was something about it that made the hair on Darcy’s arms stand up. She fought the urge to shiver. She was used to being stared at but this was different. “I don’t want to miss any of it.”

“But we’re supposed to go together!” Frankie protested.

Darcy raised an eyebrow at her. “Franks, look at me. You’ll be able to find me by my hair alone, if not the dress.” That made the laugh and Paul smacked his hand against his thigh as he nodded.

“I guess.”

“Why you gotta motor, babe?” Paul asked, pulling out what looked like a joint from a pocket on his blazer.

Darcy grinned at him. “Trust me, you won’t want to miss this.” She turned away, heading for the stage and ignoring the sound of Frankie’s giggling.

---

“Hello, Santa Carla!”

The crowd around the stage screamed back. It was packed. It wasn’t the band that had drawn the crowd but the promise of being able to let loose and have fun. The whole town seemed to run on people wanting some sort of release or refuge.

She stood close to the stage but up on an incline at the side. She didn’t want to get pulled into the mosh pit she knew would develop. It wasn’t her first concert here and she already knew what type of music was going to play. The heat of the crowd would have been unbearable if they weren’t next to the ocean or if the sun was still out. She learned that the hard way.

After she had gotten pulled back into time, and survived the subsequent panic attack that came with the realization, she took advantage of her knowledge. Part of that included going to concerts for bands that were gone in her time. She used to be afraid of going to places alone. Now she had no choice, not if she didn’t want to miss the opportunities she dug out in this miss. It had been worth it. The knowledge that she was catching something that would soon be obsolete was astounding and a bit sad, if she was honest with herself. A reminder of what she had lost in light of the supposed miracle.

---

She didn’t know the first song. That didn’t stop her from grinning and cheering with the crowd though. She didn’t even see Frankie until the girl appeared next to her. She looked as upbeat as usual. Paul was on Frankie’s other side and Darcy followed his gaze when he looked behind them. The crowd seemed to part as three men headed in our direction. The other bikers.

Paul moved to step in between the girls and wrapped an arm around their shoulders, turning them to greet his supposed brothers. Darcy tried to quell the urge to shrug him off and instead focused on the other men. Two of them were sporting mullets. She tried not to roll her eyes. Her opinion on mullets was overruled by the era. Their gazes were intense, almost predatory as they stared back and she tried not to bare her teeth back at them just because she could. Though if they said she should smile, all bets were off.

“These are my brothers!” Paul yelled over the music. “This is Darcy,” he nodded towards her as he dragged out her name. “She’s a time traveller!”

This time she did roll her eyes and finally pushed Paul off of her. He just laughed. She looked over at the men who were still watching. One of them nodded a greeting, not bothering to attempt to be heard over the music. She nodded back and met his eyes. It felt as though the music was starting to fade around them. There was a screech of feedback and she broke eye contact, turning back to face the band. It felt like she had just spaced out in the middle of a concert. She ignored the feeling telling her to face them and tried to lose herself back into the music.

“This one’s a new one! Just for you!” The singer called out. Everyone cheered. The first couple of notes were familiar and she couldn’t stop her grin once she realized what they were playing. She could see Paul headbanging out of the corner of her eye with one of the other bikers. She nodded to the beat, trying to resist the urge to sway her hips to it. She didn’t need more attention.

“But I like it! And I know you like it too! The way I want you.” She lost the battle with herself. She swayed side to side, singing along. She couldn’t resist. “At the drive-in...in the old man’s ford. Behind the bushes, till I'm screaming for more. Down the basement, lock the cellar door and baby...talk dirty to me.” She cheered again, as loud as she could. It was one of their go-to songs for dancing and singing karaoke with her friends back home. A pang of longing struck through her and she tried to shove it back, focusing on the music.

She looked over at Frankie. She was laughing as she was twirled around by Paul. Darcy smiled softly at the sight. She hadn’t known Frankie too long but she liked the girl. A familiar feeling prickled at the back of her neck and she turned to look to see who was staring at her. The biker with the bleached blonde mullet was watching her intently as he smoked a cigarette. She turned away. It wasn’t the first time she had been stared at.

---

The concert was over far too quickly. She stumbled out of the crowd next to Frankie. The bikers were following behind us.

“That was bitchin’!” Frankie said before laughing. Darcy looked at her in surprise. As far as she knew, Frankie didn’t swear. “How’d you know the songs?”

“Yeah girl,” Paul said as he stepped up to wrap an arm around Frankie’s shoulders. “Saw you singing along. We all did.” He motioned to the others.

Fuck. “I told you,” she teased. Despite the predatory gleam that was still in his eyes, he seemed playful enough. “I’m a time traveller.” He laughed loudly and she couldn’t help but chuckle along.

“No, really,” Frankie persisted. “How?”

Darcy sighed. Luckily, she had thought up excuses before. She had been to a few concerts already. “I’ve seen them before, out in L.A.”

“You’re from L.A?” a deep voice asked. She wasn’t sure which one of the other bikers it was.

“No,” she replied. “I just like to travel to concerts in the area.”

“Ohh,” Frankie’s eyes went wide. “She loves going to shows. It’s very choice.” She nodded to the others, showcasing her approval.

“So where you from?” One of the others asked. He looked younger, though it might have just been because of the ridiculous hair. Short curls in the front gave way to longer ones in the back. The second mullet of the group. He couldn’t have been that young though since he was a part of the gang. Then again, how many movies had she seen that showcased kids getting involved in gangs too young.

Something in her urged her to tell the truth. The lights seemed to fade around them and for a moment all she could focus on were the men in front of her. Where you from? She bit the inside of her cheek hard, trying to focus.

She widened her eyes and smiled. “The future,” she teased again. She rarely gave out her hometown. The less people knew about her, the better. She still had no idea how she got here or if the ground was going to be swept out from under her again, hopefully taking her home instead of further back. The men were too curious though. She could tell they wanted to press as they glanced at each other. She looked over at Frankie. “I’m gonna go. You going to be okay?” Despite knowing that she should stay by the girl’s side, make sure she got home, self-preservation was winning out.

“Yeah,” Frankie smiled before looking concerned. “You sure? Paul says he knows a party that’s gonna be dyno.” Dynamite. That meant cool.

“Come on, Darcy,” the curly one said. “It’s to die for.” The others laughed and for a moment, it almost sounded like it echoed. The creeping feeling up the back of her spine, the same one that warned her that she was being followed at night on the city streets, was back. She should go. Have fun and relax.

She scraped her teeth over the wound she made on the inside of her cheek. She could taste blood. She tried not to make a face at it.

She ignored the men, focusing on Frankie. “I got work in the morning.” It wasn’t a lie. “Stop by tomorrow, okay?” It was a less than subtle way of ensuring that the men would know she would be missed and that Darcy would be looking for her. Just in case. Judging from the smirks on the mens’ faces, they knew exactly what she meant.

“Totally,” Frankie agreed.

“Cool.” She looked around at the men that had surrounded them. When had they even moved? A glance back showed that Frankie was officially distracted now that she was making out with Paul. She didn’t feel entirely too comfortable with leaving Frankie with the men, but she needed to leave. The less interested people were in her, the better. Frankie was old enough to take care of herself, wasn’t she? “Nice to meet you,” she lied.

“I’m sure we’ll see you around,” the bleached blond said. It sounded like a promise.

“Sure,” she said non-committedly. After a final goodbye to Frankie who didn’t respond, she pushed her way past the one with the curls. She could feel their stares on her back. Regret bubbled in her stomach at the action, but she kept walking. She wasn’t sure if it was at the fact she was ditching the proposed party or just leaving Frankie. It would be fine. She wasn’t even supposed to be here anyway.

taglist: @raith-way @ocfairygodmother @lokitrasho @zeleniafic @jewelswrites-ish @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle @chickensarentcheap

#there's a heaven above you (don't you cry)#there's a heaven above you #the lost boys fic #the lost boys fanfic #oc: Darcy #the real question is will I be up to the challenge of writing the ship I'm thinking of

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1engele · 3 years

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daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 6. high

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[warnings: SMUT (it's female receiving oral), weed]

"i think of you in colors that don't exist." — Watching Sal shift repeatedly in his seat and squirm uncomfortably the entire way home is almost comical. You watch him shorten the distance between his thighs and then spread them over and over again as he drives, smiling to yourself.

"Doing okay over there?" You ask, a giggly lilt to your voice as you sit still in your spot.

The feeling between your legs is still buzzing and the engine rumbling your seat beneath you is a bit.. overstimulating.. but you're decent.

"Hmm," he hums in response, squinting your way. "Stop baiting at me," he teases.

When you pull into the parking lot at Addison's Apartments, the both of you remain seated for a silent moment, after Sal pulls the keys from the ignition. The high from moments ago has dulled down, and you're left to soak in what exactly had happened.

Except you don't. You don't even think about what had happened—you barely meet Sal's eyes, nervously grin and reach for the passenger door handle. "Alright, see you tomorrow, let me know what your dad says, text me, goodnight!"

Before the blue-haired boy even has a chance, you've opened the car door, hopped out, and gently shut it behind you. You weren't looking for him to catch up to you, either—so you ran like mad into the apartment complex and took the stairwell instead of waiting for the junky elevator.

When you'd gotten home, you were light on your feet and tiptoed through the living room towards your bedroom. You'd took note of Sal's earlier tactic (taking his shoes off before he entered the apartment) and mirrored it.

When you'd finally gotten to your room, you collapsed onto your bed, comforter beneath your back, and stared up at the ceiling.

Your mind was blank. You couldn't even mentally conjure the words to describe what had just happened.

As you ran the earlier events through your subconscious, you remembered the feeling of his teeth and mouth on the flesh of your neck—and how he'd sucked on it until it hurt. You jumped from your bed, ran (lightly) to your bathroom, turned the light on, and peered into the mirror.

You pushed your hair from your neck—which was stuck to your skin from sweat—and gasped in horror at what you saw.

Sure, they weren't fully formed and hadn't reached their full potential, but those were hickeys. Blood red, slightly purple, forming hickeys. And, from what you remember.. you'd attacked his neck worse than he had to you.

The boy was practically translucently pale. You burned with shame at yourself because of the purgatory you'd subjected him to. He'd have to hide them for a week.

You closed your mouth after hanging your jaw open for 30 minutes and breathed out slowly. Despite the nightmare they'd be to hide.. it was almost nice to see on you. Something of him was left behind. At least you had something to remind you that what had played out tonight occurred and hadn't been a dream, or something.

You pressed your fingers on the marks and winced. They were sore.

After a shower—a cold, icy shower—you retreated into bed. You were so exhausted, you didn't dream.

What felt like moments later—you knew better to say it was, though, because there was early morning light shining through your blinds—you were jostled awake by a cold hand on your shoulder. You groaned, turning to the person and squinting.

"Mom?" You slurred tiredly, taking in Michelle's dim silhouette looming over you. You almost couldn't tell who she was at first before you'd rationalized that the only person who'd be shaking you awake in this ungodly hour would be your mother. Also, you could tell by the work uniform she wore. "Wha'?"

And although you were half-awake, your mind was rational enough to remind you to pull the covers up and conceal the bruises on your neck, which you knew had probably worsened.

"The school called," her words are like a bite. You expected this, but hearing her confrontation is sort of scary. "Not only did you receive detention yesterday, but you skipped it. You're lucky you weren't suspended—I had to lie and blame family emergency for your disappearance."

You didn't say anything, staring up at her and into her eyes.

"I can't believe you. You'll still be attending detention—they've rescheduled it for today. If you pull a stunt like this again, you'll pay the price, got it?"

You couldn't remember the last time she'd scolded you. It's not like you did much to warrant it. You never had someone before recently to play hooky with—or to cheat answers off of in class. You never had friends before.

"Okay," you reply, breaking away from her eyes and looking anywhere else. Eventually, her dark gaze rips from your face and she leaves the room.

You watch your bedroom door that she'd closed behind her—listen to the muffled shuffling and jangling of keys in the living room, and when she finally shuts the front door, you breathe out a sigh of relief and roll over onto your back.

And you smile. Because it's funny. Because she has no idea what you did with a boy last night.

You reach beneath the covers and fish for your flip phone (which you'd started sleeping on, a habit spawned from paranoia) and open it. You know it's early, but you slept before receiving any texts, so maybe...

There's nothing. He hadn't messaged you.

Eventually, you roll back over and give yourself another hour or two of sleep. It's too early to start getting ready.

When you woke up again, you got ready—threw on a black halter top, along with an a-lined, purpley-blue plaid skirt. Slid your feet into over-the-knee black socks and rolled them up your legs and to just below your thighs. Topped it off with a chunky black shoe.

After that, you spent a moderate amount of time on your hair and a little on your face.

You made it a point to wear flavored lip gloss. For no particular reason.

The hickeys were still a bit visible, so you topped off your outfit with an oversized denim jacket. You didn't think that much about it. Whether or not that was a mistake would be decided later. There wasn't much you could do—you didn't own all of the makeup necessary to cover them.

You meet with Sal in the lobby first. You approach him before he's noticed that you're even there—standing with his eyes on his feet, kicking the ground and toeing at nothing.

"Hi," you breathed, unsure of yourself.

His head raises. When he meets your eyes, the light fixture over you flickers. "I can see them," Sal says, stepping closer to you and inclining his head to examine your jawline and below.

The actual is a bit abrupt—you're momentarily started. That is until you've processed what he'd said.

"Yeah," you agree, shrugging. He looks back up at your eyes, his gaze widening. "I can't do anything about it."

He laces a hand through his hair and genuinely looks panicked. That's when you decide to examine him—and his neck.

"Holy shit, Sal," you breathe, a laugh of pure disbelief slipping off of your tongue. "You look like someone choked you."

Sal groans. "Yeah, pretty sure you used teeth."

"What're you going to do about that?" You choose to disregard his prior statement.

"I have an easy way out. I'll claim Travis did it yesterday. Super suspicious because I wasn't bruised this way at the time.. but-"

You meet his eyes with a deadpanned expression. Internally, though—it's almost humorous.. the fact that neither of you are even questioning what you'd done together. But you knew that would bite you in the ass. You'd only done what you'd done once—maybe it shouldn't happen again.

"I don't know, Sal." You press your lips together, smooth the gloss around. You taste artificial cherry flavoring on your tongue. "They look like hickeys."

"No one is going to believe I've been given hickeys, Y/N."

"They'll believe it whenever they see we've got a matching set!" You exclaim, meeting his gaze warily. You struggle a bit. Before, it felt so easy to make eye contact with him—but now you could barely lock eyes without looking away.

"Matching set?"

You jerk, breaking your staring contest with the floor and sliding your eyes upward. Larry was a few feet away, speedily approaching as his long legs closed the distance. Quickly, you split your hair in the back—separating it into two sections and placing one on either side of your face.

You watched Sal mess with his in the corner of your eye.

Nervousness made your heart drop what felt like ten stories when Sal spoke in reply. "Hey, Larry," he says. "Is Ashley driving again?"

"Uh, yeah," He replied, running lanky fingers through his lengthy brown hair. "'Was thinking we could all do something after school."

You hold your breath.

"Oh," Sal takes a moment to swallow thickly. "Y/N and I are doing detention—so we can't."

Larry's dark brows draw downward, casting a shadow over his deep eyes. He glances over at you, examines your face, and then locks eyes with Sal like he had been moments before. "Again? Didn't you guys do that yesterday?"

You decide to give your response this time. "Must've been a misunderstanding. We did go to it yesterday—we just, um.. have to do it again. Today."

Before he can further question the situation, you all hear the beeping of a car horn outside of the complex. It sounds familiar—it's Ashley's car. You all step outside.

Looking at the pale silver Ford Fiesta leaves you with mixed feelings. It's nice to look at—but now it just reminds you of the fact Larry tried to get into an altercation with Sal inside of it.

This time, Todd is in the back seat by himself. It's almost comical. You raise an eyebrow and look towards Ashley in the driver's seat. She rolls her window down and acknowledges you with striking green eyes.

"Shotgun?"

You almost feel bad for leaving Sal in the backseat, knowing he's probably on edge with those marks on his neck. But you can't help yourself as you run around to the other side of the vehicle and climb into the passenger seat beside Ashley.

"It smells great in here, Ash. I forgot to tell you that last time," you smile as you breathe in the familiar strawberry scent.

"Thank you!" She grins. "Yeah, I really like these car fresheners."

The guys get into the back seat—Sal's in the middle, having climbed in first, to Todd's left, and Larry entering last.

Once the doors are shut and all hands and feet are inside of the car, Ashley shifts gears and gets going. She looks to you, then throws a look over her shoulder toward Sal. "How was detention, troublemakers?"

Your eyebrows furrow, about of stupidity washing over you. Even having discussed this with Larry and Sal only moments ago, you've completely forgotten that they thought you'd attended detention.

"Huh-"

"It was great," Sal cuts in. "We sat for hours and did nothing. A lot of fun."

You come to realization quickly, and look up to meet Sal's eyes in the rearview mirror. He's shaking his head in lighthearted disappointment—a glint of amusement in his blue gaze.

"Yeah," your laugh trails off. "Sal couldn't sit still. It was funny."

You smirk deviously. That was an obvious reference to last night, on the way back to the apartments.

He meets your eyes once again in the mirror in front of you. "Don't bait at me," he warns, but you hear his grin. That's what he'd said when you'd laughed at him last night.

You smirked, shifting in your seat. You smelled cigarette smoke and guessed Larry was smoking again. It doesn't smell regular, though—smells a bit grassy.

"You're fogging up the car, Larry! It'll be your fault if we crash!" Ashley confirms your suspicions as she yells over the sound of rushing wind. He's rolled down the window—it fails to eliminate the smell but clears your line of sight.

"Sorry," he grins around a cigarette. It was nice to see him in a better mood.

"Have any of you decided on the plans for after school?" Todd speaks up for the first time day, absentmindedly fiddling with his flip phone. It's not any of your business, but you wonder who he's texting. Every time you see him, he's playing with his phone.

Larry laughs, pulling the cigarette away from his lips. "No. Thought Sal or Y/N would have some ideas, but they can't even go. They've got detention again."

Ashley looks toward you, awaiting your confirmation.

"We always had detention again. It was a miscommunication.." you trailed off, telling a lie. They didn't know that, though.

You watch Sal fiddle with his rings in the rearview mirror. "It's my fault, really."

You're not sure exactly what he means. He could be talking about the reason you'd even been given detention (attempting to share quiz answers) or maybe he was talking about the fact you'd even ditched detention—because he'd proposed it.

You disliked how easy he was to blame himself. You'd agreed to it.

And it wasn't something you found yourself regretting—not only had you received the pleasure of grinding Sal into oblivion in the driver's seat, but you'd came while you were at it.

Something you did regret, though... was doing that while you were so unsure of yourself—and what exactly it was that he wanted from you.

Not only that, but what did you want from him?

What was this?

"No, not really," you replied, after momentarily zoning out. "I agreed to it—to you... um- giving me those answers, Sal."

You hear his rings clack, keeping your eyes on the road, and on the broken white lines in the middle of the asphalt that pass beneath the car. You assume he's pressed his hands together harshly. "Yeah, well, it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't proposed it."

This conversation wasn't really about test answers, was it?

You hear the crackle of a cigarette. No one else seems to assume anything about the conversation—just two people who refuse to blame the other person.

"The only thing I care about is the fact that you have to deal with the repercussions, Sal. I wouldn't care if it was just me having to do detention."

That shuts him up. He doesn't say anything after that.

"It's okay." You say, one last time.

After that (thank god) Ashley reaches towards the radio and turns to a channel. Heavy metal plays through the speakers—not too loud, though—and although it's a bit unsettling considering your mood, the distraction is welcome.

As soon as you've stepped out of the car in the school's parking lot, you regret the fact you hadn't worn a heavier jacket. The denim jacket is oversized, yes—but it's lightweight and breathable and you can feel the autumn wind fluttering against your skin.

Goosebumps rise on your arms. You involuntarily shiver.

You, Todd, Larry, Sal, and Ashley begin the walk inside of the school. You still smell smoke, and a glance to your left confirms that Larry is still smoking that cigarette.

"A teacher will see," you warn lightly.

"Eh, it'll be alright." He looks at you inquisitively and raises it toward you. When you meet his eyes, they're bloodshot. Your lips part in surprise.

"Are you... high?" Your gaze flickers to the cigarette again. Turns out, it's a joint. Larry is smoking weed. Figures.

He doesn't answer the question. It's not like he has to. Instead, he raises it toward you again, quirking an eyebrow questioningly.

You swallow the thick saliva that had begun to pool in your mouth and look toward the rest of the gang as they continue on.

"Why are you looking over there?" Larry calls you back from your reverie. You look up to meet his blown pupils again. "You don't need anyone's permission. If you want to smoke it, smoke it."

You bit your lip, raising a hand. Your digits twitched as you reached to pluck it from him. As you took the blunt away from his grip, and your fingers brushed, his eyebrows twitched upward.

Nervously, you inhale like you'd done with the cigarette. You don't feel it enter your lungs until you've ripped it away from your lips. You don't want this to go like the first time you'd ever smoked, so you hold it in. Those few moments feel like forever—but eventually, you cough, and allow yourself that relief.

You don't feel high, per se. You've only just smoked it, but it was a big draw, and you're already feeling the effects of lightheadedness.

Your head spins as you absentmindedly drag from it again. You don't realize how long you've been inhaling until lanky fingers have grabbed the blunt from you and pulled it away.

You blink slowly, looking up to Larry in confusion.

"Holy shit," his red eyes widen, before laughing comically. You find yourself giggling as well, experiencing a high that wasn't from weed—but from the rush of trying something forbidden and new.

"You're going to be so fucking high," he laughs again, passing a hand through his hair and looking down to the blunt. "It's... gone."

You can't even remember how long you'd been smoking that shit. How long had you been walking? How far back had Ashley parked?

Conveniently, as he examines the used-up joint, you pass by a green trash bin. He opens the lid and throws the useless blunt inside of it.

A few moments pass as you step onto the concrete leading up to the school. You vaguely feel Larry's large hand gripping your shoulder to steady you. Even though you felt a bit woozy, you remember to keep your hair in place, covering the hickeys Sal had left on your skin.

When you've stepped into the halls, the amount of people walking all around and bumping into you feels a bit overstimulating.

You hoist your bag tighter over your shoulder and follow after your friends. You feel Larry's arm bump into yours every so often, reminding you of his presence.

When you reach your locker, you put your books away, arranging them accordingly, etc. Once you've shut the locker door, hard enough for the cage to rattle—you sort of.. just- stand there. It feels like your consciousness is somewhere completely different, and yet all of this noise feels like too much.

Your heart is beating way too fast and it hurt to stand up straight.

It didn't feel bad—but you'd certainly rather snort salt and pepper than have to function an entire school day like this. You felt way too floaty, like everything was swaying—you honestly couldn't deter up from down.

You don't know where the rest of the gang is, and you're too high to care. You wander down the hall, and continue like that, even when the bell rings and everyone steadily begins to file off and into their respective classes.

Desperate to be alone, and sitting down somewhere, you find a door. It looks like the door handle is growing dust, and there are no signs or labeling on the wood. So you turn the handle and try your luck.

Of course, it's locked. Why else would a school keep an unused room unlocked?

You dig into the denim compartments of your large denim jacket, blinking away the blear in your eyes as you search between the seams at the pit of your pockets. Eventually, you find a stray bobby-pin. Breathing out a sigh of relief, you stick it into the keyhole and wiggle and force it accordingly.

There were multiple reasons you knew how to do this. Your mother used to accidentally lock you out of your previous flats. It wasn't a hobby you'd picked up—it was something you were required to learn. At least, so you wouldn't have to sleep in the hallway at night.

The door eventually gives. When you've entered, you find yourself in a storage room. It makes sense. All of the junk was stored here.

Still high as shit, and becoming a bit nauseous, you close the door behind you. That shuts out any light, and you feel a chill roll over your skin. You couldn't see shit.

You make haste as you reach into your pocket again and rip your flip phone out. You pop it open, and soon enough, your eyebrows raise in surprise. The messages are a bit unclear, but they're visible once you focus.

Sal :) Missed Call (2)

Sal :) where r you?

Sal :) i'm looking for you. class is about to start

Sal :) larry's gone too. you're with him?

Before you type out a reply, you use the phone's light to search the room for a light source of some kind. Eventually, you find a shaded lamp. You feel around for a cord, and once you've found it, you pull a bit. Thankfully, it's already plugged in.. somewhere.

You return your fingers to the lamp itself and turn it on. Soft yellow light fills the dusty room, and you sigh in relief.

You try to disregard the floating dust particles, and sink to the ground, pressing your back against a wide, wooden desk. As you adjust on the floor, the cold tile momentarily presses against your bare thighs. You breathe in sharply, allowing yourself a moment before going to reply to Sal.

You are you in class?

Sal :) No

Sal :) where are you?

You i'm not with Larry. m alone. DK where he is

Sal :) sure he's skipped to smoke. where are you

You allowed yourself to look around the dimly lit room before replying. You swore you felt the dust sticking to your skin, and the skirt hugging your lower half felt too tight.

You shakily breathed in, and then breathed out. You repeated this process, shaky fingers gripping the phone tightly.

You bobby-pinned my way into some storage room i'm sitting on the floor so high rn lol

Sal :) i know where that is. coming rn . it's at the end of a hall, right?

Sal :) what did you smoke?

You blinked slowly, wiggling your thighs back and forth.

You you're correct.

You smoked weed

Before you could comprehend what was even happening, the door directly in front of you had opened. You blinked as white light constricted your pupils before they returned to their expanded state as the silhouette closed the door. While he did that, you reached up to the desk, slid a drawer open, and placed your phone inside of it.

You could've just put it in your pocket. You didn't know why you didn't.

He sunk to the floor in front of you, sitting criss-cross applesauce. His shoes were a breath from yours as you hugged your bare knees tightly. Your lazy eyes followed his movements as he clasped his hands around his ankles. He seemed to be watching your eyes—because when you looked up to make eye contact, he'd already been looking.

"Can barely tell what your eye color is," Sal says nervously. "Your pupils are blown."

"Is' just the dark," you chide softly. "I'm fine. My heart's just beating really fast."

"How much did you smoke?" He asks, his blue eyes—ever vibrant, even in this dingy lighting—searching your face. "Larry gave it to you, right? Jesus.."

You genuinely think about it. It seems you think about it too hard because the room began to rotate.

Maybe that wasn't just the high. You'd fallen onto your side. Luckily, you'd been sitting already—so it was a gentle collide with the cold tile. It felt nice against your cheek. You closed your eyes and watched the floating colors and shapes that look like nerves flash across the backs of your eyelids.

You fully press your side against the floor snuggling into it like it's the softest blanket you've ever slept with.

"Hot," you breathe. "Get this jacket off."

Soon enough, you feel purposeful hands sliding the denim off of your arms. It takes effort to get it off of the arm beneath you, but Sal manages. He balls the jacket up and slides it beneath your head. When your cheek meets the cool denim, you feel at total peace.

"Better," you open your eyes. He's watching your face. You can tell he's concerned, but there's something in his gaze—a look that tells you that he knows he's got this handled. He was confident in himself to take care of you.

He's probably experienced this before.

You roll onto your back, holding your eyes open to look up at the ceiling. Your eyelashes ghost your eyebrows as your imagination forms clouds in the shapes of the floating things you see.

Your skirt rides up your thighs a bit. You don't pay attention to it until you feel Sal's ring-clad fingers gently fixing it for you. You look at his face and smile.

"We need to do it again," you mumble. You don't feel the sickness of the high anymore—only complete clarity.

"Do what?" He asks, curiosity lilting his words.

"What we did in the car."

After those words roll off of your tongue, all that meets you is the intaking of breath. It's so quiet in this storage room that you can hear him licking his lips. You hear shuffling, the clacking of rings, and your breath—and for a moment, you believe he won't say anything back to you.

"I," he starts, swallowing hard. "You.. when do you.."

"How about now?"

You grin, meeting his eyes. He blinks a few times.

"Y/N, I-" he cuts himself off with a breathy laugh. You don't know if he feels nervous—or he just genuinely cannot believe this is happening. You wouldn't blame him, because you can't process it, either.

It's the weed boosting your confidence like this.

Then and again, you'd been confident with him during your first sexual encounter. Maybe the high just amplified that.

"As much as I'd like to," he starts, voice tight, "I don't know how well walking around the rest of the day having... uh— would go. I know it'll happen. We've got detention to sit in, too."

You pouted sadly but accepted it. He didn't want to, and that was fine.

"But, I, um.." his eyes flickered across your face. "I could go down on you."

The words surprised you so much you jerked upward and into an upright position. Your shock had also made you a dumbass, it seemed, as well—because you smacked your head straight into the wooden drawer you'd left open, which you'd put your phone in not even a few minutes ago.

"Ow," you winced, hand reaching up to rub the sore spot.

"Holy shit," Sal says, now closer to you. He closed the drawer (something you should have done way earlier) and blinked down at you. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," you breathed, meeting his gaze. "You'd.."

His eyes shifted to the left momentarily. "Yeah. If you don't want me to, that's fine. Your decision. I mean, I have no experience, besides things I've heard before."

You felt a bit giggly all of sudden. Your forehead was pulsing but it was fine. "I can always teach you. I mean, I've never had someone go down on me but I know what feels good."

Sal's demeanor seems a bit nervous as he glances around the storage room. "You want this to happen in here?"

You let out an abrupt laugh, holding your upper body weight on your elbows and arms. "Yes."

He chuckles along with you. "Alright."

Once again, you thank whatever intuition it is you have for swaying you into choosing to wear a skirt again today. You feel Sal's eyes burning holes into your skin as you grip the hem of your skirt and pull the material of your skirt higher on your thighs until it's bunched up at your hips.

His eyes—which, moments ago, were so blue and clear—had now grown a bit darker and looked as though a shadow had been cast over their pretty sheen.

"Did you lock the door when you came in?" You breathed, the ache between your thighs painful as he stares you down.

"I don't think it locks from the inside. We'll have to make it quick."

You're heart's never beat this fast before. And it keeps crashing against your ribs when he slides his fingers up your legs. He pulls your knees away from each other, and shifts so he's a bit farther between your legs.

You watch him slide every silver ring off of his digits, collecting them in a palm and sliding them onto the wooden surface of the desk beside him.

Your blood pumps in your ears so loud you feel like your brain is going to explode. That is, until you feel the pressure of the pads of his fingers right between your thighs, over the fabric that separated his fingertips from the burning heat there. Every other sense diminishes as your entire body focuses on what you'd just felt.

You instinctively gasped, never having been touched so intimately before.

You can tell he's shocked, barely having to glance at his face. You know he's nervous, but you don't believe he has reason to be.

"You're.."

"Wet?" You finish the sentence for him shyly, feeling completely dirty about insinuating something like that out loud. "The fabric is thin, but.."

"I haven't even done anything," he murmurs.

"Yes, you have," you reply, giggling quietly through your chest. "You're torturing me. Get on with it."

His hands shake as he reaches his hands behind his head and unclasps the buckles that hold the prosthetic onto his face. Before you can even take him in, he's turned the lamp above you off.

It's completely dark in the room.

"Can I.."

You know what he means when his hands brush the sides of your thighs. "Yes," you reply, instantly.

Sal hesitates. "Are you sure?"

You smile to yourself. "I am. Are you?"

"Absolutely," he mumbles, hooking his thumbs around the lace of your underwear and pulling it down your legs. You can't hear your heart anymore, thank god—you can only feel it. It beats unmercifully against your ribs as he daintily finishes sliding the fabric off of your body.

Sal barely moves after that. You guess he's put your panties in his pocket.

Before you know it, he's flattened the tip of his middle finger on the place between your legs. You shakily sigh as he barely dips a finger into the place your dampness had collected. He then slides his digit upward, spreading the wetness up and through your slit.

You know what he's doing—preparing you for what's to come—but you can't help it when his touch ghosts your clit. It takes a lot of self-control not to clamp your thighs around his hand—so you hold yourself back with a whine.

Sal stops when you make the sound, but his touch remains. "There?" He asks lowly—like now you're more at risk at being caught. There's no way, though. When you'd picked the lock, the doorknob seemed like it hadn't been used in forever.

"Yes," you whisper, barely lifting your hips to press into his hand. He uses more fingers this time—passing them through your wetness again. Eventually, he makes it back to that bundle of nerves, and gently circles it. You feel your gut tumble as he presses on it just eight.

"God, please," you sigh, settling on your back and raising a hand to grip at your hair. "Sal, I want-"

"Okay," he murmurs. You hear shuffling, feel him move. You know he's lower when his hair tickles the flesh between your thighs.

His breath fans over the apex of your thighs. You'd expect breath of this proximity to be hot—but it's cold and feels minty. It makes sense. That's how he smells—and whenever you'd kissed him last night, that's how he'd tasted.

What broke you from your musing was the feeling of his warm tongue flat on your sex. You throw your head back, dropping your jaw. You'd been waiting this whole time for that feeling—and now you'd gotten it.

Your skull feels like it's rattling (you had just thrown your head back and into the hard flooring) but you disregard that and focus on everything else.

"F-fuck," you stutter, as he rolls his tongue up and over your clit. You knew his memory was basically photographic—but you didn't realize he'd be able to find that spot every time.

He flicks his tongue over your clit in a way he hadn't been like he was experimenting. And it worked because you'd cried out and reached between your thighs to grip his blue hair.

He pulls away from your sex, exhales cool air onto the junction of your thighs and pants. "Gonna need to be quiet," he reminds you, his voice thick.

"I'm sorry," you swallow, before feeling him duck back down.

You shiver in anticipation as his mouth closes over the slope of your inner thigh, sucking onto your skin. You whine as he nibbles your flesh, barely closing his teeth over it before pulling away and returning to what he'd left.

Your spine arches off of the painfully hard floor as he closes his lips over your cunt again, flattening his tongue again and rolls it upward and back into his mouth.

It's not like he has a technique—he's just reacting to your reactions.

Your eyes are watery and fill with tears as you close them too tightly. Your fingers interlace with his hair, gripping close to his scalp and pulling just a bit. He hums in acknowledgment against your clit, and you feel that coil that had been steadily tightening in your gut began to tighten excruciatingly.

"Close," you breathe. "Please. Gonna cum."

Surely enough, he smiles into you, passes his tongue through your slit one last time before flicking it over your clit, and with purpose. He feels your legs spasm against his shoulders, so he flattens his tongue over the bundle of nerves.

That's when that coil in the deepest pit of your stomach unraveled.

"I'm coming," you whined. The feeling stuttered, you felt like you were teetering off of a cliff before it finally crashed over your body and through you harder than anything you've ever felt before.

He rode you through your orgasm—and it was hard not to clamp your thighs around his head.

"Fuck," your legs twitched as you came down, sighing as he pulled away from your sex. He panted, taking in the air quickly, before reaching up and turning the lamp on.

You met his eyes, pressing your thighs together as they shook.

"Oh my god," you exhaled, allowing yourself to soak in your shock. You watched him lick his lips before passing the back of his hand over them.

Sal seemed a bit lost for words himself. "Was that- um.."

You sat up—hiking your skirt back down with one hand while catching him by the nape of the neck with the other. You captured his mouth with yours, kissing him with fervor and want and appreciation. It took less than a second for him to reciprocate.

You didn't care if you could taste yourself on his tongue—it didn't matter much. It wasn't even bad, thank god.

After passing your tongue over his lip, you pulled away, eyes wide with shock. "I should.."

"I know what you're going to say," he cut you off, reaching into his back pocket with a smile. He hands you his underwear, and you close it in your fist. "And I'm alright. We've spent way too much time in here, anyway."

Your knee accidentally nudges between his thighs. Of course, he's hard. He was a teenage boy and he'd just made a girl come in a dingy old classroom at school during class. You felt bad.

"Another time." It's not a question. You're promising it to him.

"I.. okay." He murmurs, nervous in a way he hadn't been when he'd been eating you out moments before.

You watch him slide his rings back on, buckle his prosthetic back onto his face—and pretend not to notice how he adjusts himself as he stands up. You slide your denim jacket back on, slide your panties up your legs, and move to stand. You nearly fall back down when your legs spasm.

"Are you okay?" He asks, concern dripping off of his low voice.

"Fine. A little shaky," you breathe, gripping his arms and rising to your feet. You let go of him a few beats later and move toward the door. You forget your phone, but Sal grabs it for you and slides it into your pocket.

And as the both of you go to leave, you think about how the rest of the day will play out.

#sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader

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diamaker-moon · 3 years

Text

Moving Forward - Chapter 4

Chapter Four

First day and investigations

—————

"Haven't you heard?" She asked back in a cold tone.

"Heard what?"

"You're class... drove Marinette to transfer schools. All because of you guys." She said in an icy tone before passing by him then rest left him in the locker room— gaping.

— previous chapter... —

Adrien was stunned.

'Marinette transferred schools?! When did that happen?!'

He stood there for a few minutes before fishing up his phone and texted Marinette, he waited for a reply, but nothing came. He came back to his classroom in a daze.

He didn't bother sharing the information with anyone, thinking that Lila might steal the spotlight again. And besides, he was too busy thinking why Marinette needed to transfer, and why she didn't inform him— her friend.

Nino was worried for his best bro. Adrien barely spoke throughout the day.

Meanwhile, Marinette was given a few hours in the morning to roam and get acquainted inside campus grounds. She was joined by Allegra, who happily toured her and introduce her as well to every student they pass by.

She was enjoying her time in Jeanne.

But behind all the happiness she was feeling at the moment, there's a huge responsibility whispering in her ear. The Cat Miraculous is currently in camouflage mode in her right ring finger as a rose gold ring. She needed to find either a new permanent cat holder or a temporary one. Part of her wants to trust her dormmates. She couldn't trust her temporary heroes anymore, aside from Viperion and Ryuko.

She could imagine Allan using the Turtle miraculous since he is already protective of his friends. She was stuck between Claude and Allegra for the Fox miraculous.

Claude is a theatre kid, he can imagine a lot of things and that can help during battles but he's more of a fighter than hiding in the shadows. Allegra, however, can do the opposite.

But for now, her main priority is to find a cat holder, even if it has to be temporary. It was a good thing that she had bought a mini fridge for Plagg's camembert stash and stored it in her room or else her dormmates might think she's a cheese hoarder!

All the teachers and students in Jeanne were very welcoming. Her classmates were friendly to her, and her teachers are fair educators. When there is a disturbance in the class, they reprimand both students not only one, and Marinette noticed that there's no 'model student' treatment like the one she had in Dupont.

It was lunchtime, she and her dormmates decided to eat in a nearby restaurant. She missed how she just goes home and eats lunch in her home then sometimes returns with a bag of pastries as snacks. She missed her home and her parents' bakery.

Marinette and Allegra were busy chatting about Marinette's current state in Jeanne, while Claude and Allan are busy bickerings on who will win if Batman and Iron Man fought.

Félix just observed them, and from time to time read on his book.

None of them saw a blonde looking at them with a melancholic look. The blonde smiled bitterly before they left the restaurant.

"Are you all done? Lunchtime is almost up." Félix announced.

The other four nodded and paid for their meal, then walked back to school.

Marinette wants to thank her luck and Tikki, for not having any Akuma throughout the rest of the afternoon.

Upon returning to the dorm, she went inside her bathroom and stared at the mirror. She was looking at her reflection, but somehow it felt unfamiliar to her.

The girl in the mirror, has her hair down, wearing a white button-up shirt underneath a black blazer that had red accents and trimming, the school crest sewed on top of the front pocket and a red tie. Paired with it is a plaid red, white and black skirt that reaches up to her mid-thighs, she also wore black knee-high socks and strapped two-inched heels.

She moved her hair on the right side a bit and saw her signature black stud earrings which are actually the camouflaged ladybug's miraculous earrings, then the rose gold cat miraculous on her right hand that moved her hair.

It was a huge change.

She was used to seeing her previous look since Dupont doesn't require school uniforms but Jeanne does.

Marinette sighed then stripped out of her uniform to take a short shower.

Once she came out of the bathroom, she was wearing light pink high-waisted shorts, a white halter-top with her signature flower design, then a sheer black cardigan.

She turned the soundproofing on then locked her bedroom door before she let the kwamis out of the miracle box.

"Did you have fun on your first day, Marinette?" Tikki asked.

Marinette hummed before answering. "Yeah. It was quite strange to see all the students wear the same outfit, but everyone was very welcoming. Quite different in Dupont. And there were no Akuma attacks today!"

Tikki smiled at her holder. The kwami thought that the girl deserves it. She needed a new environment away from the previous one since it was toxic.

Marinette was skimming through the Grimoire, and the kwamis knew not to be close enough since it is prohibited to know about the knowledge inside the book.

Shadowmoth. A unified Butterfly and Peacock miraculous holder.

Hawkmoth was becoming stronger, and Marinette needed to be ten steps ahead of him. She cannot use her previous temporary heroes.

Rena Rouge, Carapace, Pegasus and Roi Singe betrayed her in their civilian lives, unknowingly. She cannot trust them in battle, even if they were efficient heroes.

She was alone at the moment. No temporary allies, and no partner.

But she might have a lead on who Hawk—Shadowmoth is.

She looked at her bulletin board that is hanged on the wall.

If anyone ever saw the board, they might think she is a detective, due to having a map of Paris wide opened, with marks, sticky notes, red strings, etc.

She closed the book before putting on a sleeve cover for the book then plainly placed it on her desk together with a stack of books.

"Marinette?"

She hummed before looking at her left seeing the kwamis stare at her.

"We finally might have a lead on who Hawk—Shadowmoth is. Why does he need to change his name? The hawkmoth is already a stupid name, but he had to change it to Shadowmoth! Ugh!"

The kwamis laughed at their guardian's frustrations.

"Who do you suspect, Master?" Wayzz asked.

"Plagg, do you know where your previous holder got the book and tablet?" She asked the cat kwami who's busy eating a wheel of Camembert on top of her chaise.

Plagg looked to her before swallowing the rest of the whole wheel then answered.

"In his deadbeat of a father's office. That's where we found the book first, inside a safe behind her mother's painting."

Marinette hummed.

She had valid points at the moment to suspect him. And no one can prevent her from suspecting the fashion guru like before when she had Chat Noir as her partner. He was adamant that the guru isn't Hawkmoth, but now she understood. The man was his father. If the fashion guru is Hawkmoth, he'll be losing both his Mother and Father.

Something clicked in her mind. The alternate reality that she prevented: Chat Blanc.

She gasped. Then hurriedly grabbed her notebook that has all her points and suspect list with a list of reasons. She flipped the pages towards Gabriel Agreste's page.

Possible Suspect: Gabriel Agreste

Affliation: Fashion Designer

Relationships:

◈ Emilie Agreste (Wife)

◈ Adrien Agreste (Son)

◈ Nathalie Sancoeur (Assistant)

Reasons why suspected?

- Mme Agreste has been gone for three years, can use the ultimate power to wish her back.

- Secluded from the outside world.

- Assitant is very devoted, can possibly be the ally— Mayura.

- Another possible ally— Lila Rossi. Got akumatized after leaving from the first bathroom confrontation looking all smug, and has been akumatized repeatedly. Also might be involved with the Heroe's day illusion of Dark 'Ladybug'.

- Akumatized when suspected before. Hypothesis: possibly to divert attention?

- Very attentive and tried to reach for earrings and ring before during 'The Collector' after getting de-akumatized...

- Briefly saw an intrigue look on his face when he saw Chloé open a miraculous box in public.

- Has the Grimoire. Now, he also had Master Fu's tablet (stolen possibly during Miracle Queen battle)

-Theory: Chat Blanc said that Hawkmoth was a reason why the alternate timeline was destroyed by Blanc, Marinette is almost akumatized before (in original timeline), is it possible that in that timeline, Hawkmoth tried to akumatize Marinette then accidentally finds out Chat Noir's identity, leading up to a possible confrontation? It is quite hard to choose between a family relative and a relationship...

Marinette observed the page. If she was impulsive, she'd probably march up to the Agreste Mansion, but if her possible suspect is truly a villain, she cannot impulsively attack since he had two miraculouses that can create an Akuma and a Sentimonster.

She was a tactician. She always thinks about how she can use her lucky charm, and mostly in the most complex ways on how to use it.

The only thing she can do for a while is observing the Older Agreste.

"It's decided then," She looked at the kwamis then continued her sentence.

"We're going on a stake-out outside the Agreste Mansion, and possibly the inside as well. But that mansion is heavily guarded with cameras! How am I going to enter it?!"

She annoyingly said the huffed.

"Kwamis can help with the cameras and if there are alarms!" Trixx reasoned.

"Hmm... That can be useful... But how am I going to get an inside look? If there's a hidden safe behind Mme Agreste's painting in M. Agreste's atelier, I need an entrance."

Plagg thought about it before gasping.

"I can look around! I've been in the mansion for a long time, I can search around that room to see any open windows or entrance!"

Marinette actually smiled at that statement, she scratches Plagg behind one of his ears which made the cat kwami purr in happiness.

"Looks like someone earned a prize!"

The kwamis laughed in seeing the stubborn cat kwami happily purring due to the young guardian scratching him. Marinette needed a thorough plan. A plan to look around M. Agreste's atelier without being detected. And if she is lucky maybe retrieve one of the missing miraculous.

—————

"Nathalie!"

The woman flinched before she composed herself and made her way towards her boss's atelier with a tablet in one hand.

"Yes, M. Agreste?"

The man was seething, and she didn't know why. The last time she saw him like this was when they caught Adrien taking the miraculous book to school.

"Where's the Grimoire and the tablet?"

Nathalie blinked. "It's in your hands Monsier. Or maybe safely hidden in the safe."

Gabriel sighed deeply. "The book and the tablet is missing. I check the cameras, Adrien got it again, but when I asked for it back, he said you had it."

"I'm sorry, M. Agreste, but I didn't even know that it was in Adrien's possessions. I'll look around the mansion, maybe Adrien misplaced it, I'll also ask him to remember where he left it."

Gabriel nodded and dismissed her.

Inside Nathalie's head, it was trouble. They were fortunate to steal the previous Guardian's tablet that has a translated version of the book, to fix the Peacock miraculous. They had also found a translated pages about the power-ups but we haven't figure out what it actually means. They also don't have a backup copy of the translated pages!

"Adrien? Adrien."

Nathalie knocked on the younger Agreste's door. She heard a faint 'wait, Nathalie!'. Soon the door opened and revealed a dishevelled Adrien who was currently drying his hair with a towel.

"Yes, Nathalie?"

"I heard from your Father that you had the book and tablet he's looking for. Do you remember where you left it?" She said and noticed how Adrien paled.

"I was only looking at it, I left it on my desk but the next morning it was gone. I figured that you might've found it on the desk and took it back to Father... That's the only place I left it before going to bed."

She observes the young boy and hummed. She instructed Adrien to try and look around thinking that it might've been misplaced.

'I have a bad feeling about this. It's already bad that it's missing, but if my theory is right that it is in Ladybug's possession, we might be at a disadvantage.'

Chapter 3 — Moving Forward: Masterlist — Chapter 5

#miraculousladybug #marinette dupain-cheng #movingforward #adrien agreste #class salt

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whump-whump-baby · 4 years

Text

So your Fictional Universe has Horses in it

Alternatively: People Ride Horses in Your Fic, and you’re Not Sure What to Do About It

horse rider/owner and baby writer here, throwing you an infodump that will maybe help with the whole ‘There’s a Horse in the Background here but I Don’t Know What to Do With it’ thing I sometimes see in writing!

Inside this infodump: Horse riding, horse care, horse tack (equipment), falling off a horse (and what usually gets injured), horse lingo, and behaviour.

1. Tame that beast (aka, riding the horse)

a couple things here: Getting on the horse, getting off, steering, etc

Honestly, I’m only including this part because I find that a lot of people skip past the whole ‘getting on the horse’ bit and I find it hilarious. It’s not a weird thing but it can be weird to describe. I get it!

Getting On

Experienced riders will always mount from the left side of the horse. It's a weird tradition that doesn’t really make sense anymore, but it’s still followed because most don’t really see a reason to change it. It supposedly dates back to medieval times and has something to do with where a sword would traditionally be hung on a person’s hip- mounting (Putting your foot in the stirrup, grabbing up high on the saddle, pulling yourself up and over while using your foot in the stirrup to help yourself) from the left means you wouldn’t accidentally poke your horse with your sheath. Not sure if this story has any validity to it, but we all still follow the left rule unless we’re specifically getting a horse used to mounting from the other side for whatever reason.

Getting off

I have a bone to pick with this. Nobody gets off their horse by swinging a leg in front of themselves, over the horse’s neck in front of them, and hopping down facing away from their horse. It’s not the safest bet to attempt because 1. It actually requires a lot of hip strength to swing your leg like that without kicking your poor horse in the neck, and 2. It doesn’t give you a legitimate way to hold onto your horse after dismounting, which is inherently unsafe. Even if you are in possession of The World’s Best Behaved Horse Ever, you always want to be holding onto the reins. Riders usually dismount by leaning forward, swinging a leg behind them and over the horse’s butt, pivoting sideways on their stomach, and sliding down off the horse- keeping a hand on the rein and one on the saddle to slow their descent. That way you always have a hand on your wild beast, who may decide at any given time that the nearby grass is more important than standing still for your dismount. Plus, swinging a leg like that is basically impossible in saddles that feature a saddle horn, like a western saddle.

It’s a little hard to see in this photo, but Geralt’s saddle definitely has some kind of high pommel to it- so he’d most likely dismount the normal way. It’s just easier!

If you tried to dismount like that in this western saddle you would definitely bruise something.

In this saddle (a Dressage saddle) you could probably pull it off.. but why?? All that struggle just to slide down on your butt and land funny, sprawled away from your horse. It’s just not worth it.

Steering and Etc.

Believe it or not, most steering movement actually comes from the rider’s weight in the saddle than their grip on the reins. If we’re looking at this from the realm of something like The Witcher (which is probably going to be my go-to media example because it’s still pretty recent) a relaxed turn is going to look like Geralt isn’t doing too much with his upper body, because he’d be weighting his seat bones in the saddle. Despite his saddle looking a little bulky, Roach could definitely feel it and respond accordingly- horses are pretty sensitive little friends and can feel most of what you’re doing up there, including looking down. (Protip, if you’re learning to ride horses, don’t look down- it’ll unbalance your upper body and make you pitch forward, unbalancing your horse and making yourself more likely to fall off)

A good way to have a character look experienced with riding is to describe someone relaxed but upright, shoulders back, hands closed but relaxed on the reins. They don’t have to be bolt upright, but at ease. A good way to describe a character with little to no riding experience would be to describe them as tense, probably hunching forward a little; hands too high or low and reins too long. See the lovely photos below:

A Dressage rider: she’s looking pretty evenly balanced, is sitting tall but not bolt upright, hands are low, elbows relaxed. Wonderful!

A Beginner: Absolutely no hate to beginners! We all have to start somewhere, But there’s definitely a difference in body language between this rider and our dressage rider. (Side note: PLEASE always wear a helmet on a horse, especially if you’re a beginner, good grief)

2. Horse Care

I don’t think too much needs to be said here, but there’s a couple things that are worth noting.

Grooming

Most horses love a good brushing. They’ll even lean into it if you find an itchy spot!

If your character has a ton of experience, grooming their horse makes a lovely backdrop for conversations. Riders usually brush their horses before and after riding, to remove dirt and mud and sweat. Manes and tails are brushed if you want to be detail oriented, and feet should always be picked out (A good chance for Character B to oogle Character A’s butt, if thats the kind of story you’re writing) to remove dirt and stones.

When Not Riding

Your furry partner-in-crime should be untacked and eating grass somewhere. Untacked means all gear removed and put away for the day- in stories like The Witcher, tied to a tree branch or a rest area in a halter is fine. As a horse person it wouldn’t make sense to leave their tack on all night- you’d leave it nearby, but not on them. If your characters are just pausing for a break or something, it’s totally ok- but done for the day? Nah. Let your pony be naked.

Injuries

Horses, like most prey animals, will hide injuries and illness until they physically can’t anymore. Small cuts and scrapes, dependent on where they are, will probably not give a physical response unless you manipulate them somehow (cleaning, applying antibiotics, etc). A horse may show discomfort by a number of signs, but if it really hurts your horse will probably shy away from your touch or may lash out at your hands to keep you from touching it. Signs of discomfort can be pinning their ears back against their head (aka Ow Ow OW, DON’T TOUCH IT, I’m UPSET) to straight up trying to run from you if they think you’re going to attempt to touch it (a more severe reaction for a more severe wound, like a deep cut/laceration/puncture etc). If a horse is in very dire straits you might get no reaction at all- your horse might be hanging its head low, not really responding to your voice or touch, appearing bleary eyed or dull eyed or sleepy. Generally that kind of severe behavior change is considered Very Very Bad and definitely grounds to call a vet for, especially if there’s no sign of physical injury.

3. Horse Tack (Equipment!)

Here’s a quick rundown of horse tack.

All these pieces make up the bridle, reins included.

*Side note- Bits are not cruel, and riders choosing to use them with their horses are not abusive. Bits are a tool riders use to communicate with their horses and there are hundreds of metal finishes, textures, shapes and sizes to fit a horse with a bit that makes them happy and keeps them comfortable. There are some horses who refuse to take bits, and their owners usually turn to a bitless bridle to keep them comfortable- however this is not “kinder” just because of the lack of bit. These bridles are just designed to exert gentle pressure to tell the horse to slow or stop instead of the gentle pressure on the bit. Different horses prefer different things, and none of these things are harmful to the horse if used properly and with care.

This is a diagram of a close contact or Hunter saddle, but the terminology generally applies to all different kinds of saddles. Girths are considered their own piece of tack and not as a part of the saddle.

Riders who are riding consistently usually at least wipe their tack down with a wet cloth after finishing with it for the day. Because tack is almost always leather, well cared for leather lasts a lot longer if cared for. This is also a great thing to have a character talk over in a fic- have them clean tack while having a hard conversation, or maybe show how quick and not-great of a job they do on their tack if they’re angry or trying to get away from another character closeby. Lots of opportunities! (If you really want to get detailed, cleaning usually looks like: a damp cloth to wipe dirt off and then rubbing a leather conditioner into the tack, which may smell lovely or a little weird depending on the brand)

4. Falling off

I see you, whump writers. (and I love you.)

So You Want your Character to Fall Off:

Falling off is rarely graceful. It can be caused by anything from an unexpected trip to your horse spooking at something, to a jump taken at the wrong spot/speed/angle... opportunities are endless. I have fallen off my horse at the walk because he startled at a dog and I slipped to the side, and I have fallen off over jumps, because my horse actively tried to get me off, or because I just wasn’t paying attention and Oops, how’d I get in the dirt? Generally if you’re looking for a reason for your character to fall off, they are endless. If the one at fault is the horse common reasons are the rider becoming unseated and slipping back/forward/sideways by the horse startling (at legitimately anything sometimes, depending on the horse.. let your imagination go wild!) changing speed or direction suddenly. All of these things will affect how your character comes off and how they’ll hit dirt with what body part. IE- pitching forward will probably land you on the top of your shoulders, if you’re lucky- if not, you’ll land on your head. Most people will land on the tops of their shoulders as the instinct to protect their head kicks in, but sometimes gravity is a bitch. It happens.

This is where experience comes in, too- Experienced riders will usually react quicker and will try to save themselves, either grabbing onto their horse’s mane or neck or even just keeping a death grip on the reins as adrenaline kicks in- all of which keeps your upper body higher than your lower and can lead to landing on your bum/side/feet instead of your head. Beginner or inexperienced riders might not react that quickly and end up landing roughly. This is not to say that more experienced riders will always come out less injured than beginners, but that experienced riders sense of self preservation will kick in faster frankly just because they’ve fallen off more. This is also why you see more beginners breaking arms in riding accidents- as you learn to ride you are taught (if you were taught like I was) to NEVER throw your arms out to catch yourself during a fall- it’s more likely that you will land on top of your straight arm and give yourself a wicked compound break. Your instinct changes from trying to save yourself to trying everything you can to staying in your saddle. Self preservation is a wonderful thing!

If Your Character is Sick/Already Injured:

The motion of the horse, even in walk, is going to make them feel worse- especially any injury to the lower stomach area. That’s where the body absorbs most of the motion from the horse’s gaits, especially in the hips/lower abdomen. So if Character A has a stab wound in his stomach and Character B has gotten them into the saddle to bring them to help.... Character A is gonna be in some pretty decent pain until they can dismount. For head injuries the same motion might make them dizzy or nauseous. But, good news! If your character slumps forward completely while keeping their arms on either side of the horse’s neck, they will probably manage to stay in the saddle for a decent amount of time. Their lower body and leg (hopefully still in the stirrups) will keep them in the saddle unless jostled out of it. (This, of course, only making sense if the saddle in question doesn’t have a horn, because otherwise your character won’t be able to slump forward far at all. )If they manage to slip off the horse in this position, they’re going to land head/chest/upper body first, especially if only semi-conscious due to previous injuries.

If dealing with any other injuries, getting on the horse might be nicer than walking but will definitely not keep anything still- any motion the horse makes will make the rider’s body move and jostle the injury, no matter where the injury is.

5. Wrapping it up: Horse Lingo and Behaviour

Horse terms are easy to find and but a google search away, but here’s some of the main terms:

Gaits: A horse’s movement. Walk, trot, canter and gallop with gallop being the fastest.

Aids: what riders use to communicate with the horse. This includes your hand (on the reins) your leg (squeezing to ask for gaits) and your voice.

(Riders talk to their horses! all the time. Even if just to say good boy/girl. Commonly we say things like hoooh, whoa, easy, no, etc. Sometimes just talking to your nervous horse helps calm them down)

Green horse: Inexperienced horse, usually new to being ridden, usually young.

Mare: Female Horse.

Stallion: Male horse, not neutered. Stallions can have a reputation for being hotheaded and sometimes hard to handle, but not all are like that.

Gelding: Male horse, neutered. Most people who have male horses will refer to them as geldings on paperwork.

Pony: a small horse. Not a baby horse. Just smaller.

Colt: Baby male.

Filly: Baby female.

You can probably use google for anything else without concern that you’re using a term that's unnatural.

Behaviour

My rule of thumb for writing behaviour is this: If it seems like a disney dog in a movie would do it........ it’s safe to say a horse wouldn’t. Writing a horse like a disney dog is too unnatural and will definitely make any horse people reading your story give an eye roll.

An example:

Your character has just dismounted their horse after a long ride.

A horse would: maybe sniff your pockets for treats (especially if you had some before you got on) stand next to you as you talked to someone, try to rub their head on you (scratches!! especially if they’re sweaty) maybe perk up at something in the distance if distracted enough

A horse would not: Shake their head at you, whinny at you, prance around and “smile” at you... roll their eyes at something you said... point like Lassie at something in the distance... etc.

Horses definitely have personalities! They can be affectionate and snuggly, nervous or brave, flighty or stoic... but they don’t emote the same way a cartoon character would. The best example i’ve seen of horse interaction in media would probably be the horses in Disney’s Brave. If you pay attention to the way horses interact with each other and react to events in the movie, it’s pretty spot on!

Follow your gut. You can still have a horse with a personality, but if it feels too cartoony, it probably is!

This is a great infographic that explains body language as well.

I hope this helps anyone who wants to include more horse interaction in their writing!

#writing #fiction #writeblr #writblr #whump #whumpblr #fanfiction #hopefully tagging this right!#photos are not mine

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joaquinwhorres · 4 years

Text

Treacherous Waters (Leonard McCoy x Reader)

SUMMARY ››››› After finals at Starfleet Academy all of the cadets flock to local bars in search of a good time. Which is exactly where you meet Leonard McCoy. And you are more than willing to show him a good time with the understanding that come Saturday morning he'll be gone, and you'll never see him again. Which is exactly what happens...until five years later your starship has a massive failure and the only ship around to save you is the Enterprise.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,072

WARNINGS ››››› Drinking and mentions of sexy times.

A/N ››››› Sooooo originally this was just supposed to be a “dancing in a bar with Leonard McCoy” fic but then I got an idea and well, it’s this.

Prefer OC’s? Read it on AO3.

Finals Week at Starfleet Academy was a glorious occasion.

Or perhaps, more accurately, the Friday evening after Finals Week at Starfleet Academy was a glorious occasion. Because the Friday night of Finals Week was when the beautiful, young, pent up cadets flooded the local bars in desperate search for some unbridled fun.

Which Y/N was more than happy to provide

"Kirk's here," Kiesh hissed, her fingers digging into Y/N's arm in her excitement. Y/N flinched, and Kiesh released her quickly, but was too distracted to mutter an apology, her gaze fixated on the near mythical figure of San Francisco nightlife.

The tales that followed Jim Kirk were outlandish and obscene and wholly captivating.

There was the story of his birth aboard the USS Kelvin minutes before his father saved the lives of everyone who'd been aboard the ship.

There was the story of how he'd earned his spot in the Academy by taking on three security Lieutenants in a fist fight and walking away with no more than a bloody nose.

And of course there were the stories of his romantic conquests. Although romantic was probably not the right word for it. Carnal, sensual, lustful, and erotic all seemed a bit more descriptive of what transpired between Jim Kirk and the girls of San Francisco.

And like any mythical figure, these tales were enough to warn off a good number of girls from falling into his sheets...while prompting others to search for him to either worship or conquer themselves.

Kiesh fell firmly in the later category. She was no Kirk acolyte, but he had become a point of fixation for her because he was what no other man had been to her--unattainable.

Y/N scanned the crowd for the golden haired casanova, but the bar was too packed. It was an ocean of voices and species and color, all flowing to the electric undercurrent that ran throughout the bar. Y/N's eyes caught on the blood red uniforms of cadets too eager to indulge their youth to waste any time by going home and changing clothes.

Two palms pressed into either side of Y/N's face as her roommate turned her attention away from the cadets, past groups of people wearing the colorful and patterned designs native to their home planet, and to the end of the neon purple bar. There, just visible between the bodies of two friends having a chugging contest, was Jim Kirk with his head thrown back laughing.

"He's gorgeous," Y/N murmured. She'd figured he had to be, but it was one thing to hear about Adonis and another thing completely to see him in person. Kiesh's hands fell from Y/N's head, allowing the other girl to turn back to her. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"I might not make it to breakfast." A coy smile curled Kiesh's lips up as she started off through the crowd, disappearing amongst the crowd.

Y/N followed her progress, watching the other girl choose a space at the bar directly in Kirk's line of sight, sliding into the chair and tossing her long purple hair over one shoulder to reveal the expanse of skin from her neck to her chest, and then below the crop top.

And then she waited.

Watching Kiesh work was a sight to behold. Each trap was delicately set, carefully tailored to the man she'd picked on that given night. She planned each movement--the way she walked, the angle of her body against the bar, the look she painted on her face--to snag men like a siren, luring them into her dangerous waters.

As much as she wanted to see this play out, Y/N had other more important things to accomplish. Like finding her own catch for the night. And she wasn't going to do that by standing in one spot all night.

If Kiesh was a siren, then Y/N was a shark, moving constantly throughout the room in search of the perfect prey. She weaved in and out of small groups, eyes scanning the members therein. There were groups of friends laughing together, cadets challenging each other to drinking games, girls who like her and Kiesh came with one purpose in mind, and others who came to have a good time by themselves, cadets be damned.

But it wasn't until her fourth slow, methodical lap that she saw him. Or rather, she saw Kirk slap him on the back with a large grin before making his way over to where Kiesh leaned on her elbows. More than the broadness of his shoulders, the tussle of dark hair, and the deep red color of his uniform, it was the scowl he was shooting at Kirk's back that caught her attention and drew her across the bar to him as if smelling blood in the water.

"You look like a man who doesn't dance," Y/N said, folding her arms on the back of what was once Kirk's chair. It took him almost three seconds to realize that she was talking to him, and when he did, he lifted his eyebrows--the look an interesting combination of amusement and apprehension.

"Well, that's a first," he remarked. There was just a trace of an accent under his words that Y/N couldn't quite place.

"I highly doubt I'm the first person to notice," Y/N said, rocking on the balls of her feet. "Unless of course I'm wrong, and you're constantly barraged with requests to hit the dance floor."

He exhaled a laugh, the sound sailing past his lips, and into the glass he lifted up to his mouth. "You're not wrong," he said, taking a sip of his liquor and then placing it back down on the bar in front of him.

"Didn't think so. I rarely am."

He gave her a cautious look out of the corner of his eye as if still unsure where this conversation was going and why she was talking to him. As if people chatted up strangers in bars just to pass the time.

"So, since you don't dance, that begs the obvious question…what's a man like you doing in a place like this?"

He cracked a smile then, slowly tilting his head to look at her, really look at her, for the first time. "Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"

"Only if you subscribe to archaic 20th century gender norms," Y/N shrugged, smiling back at him. "Besides," she leaned closer, tipping her head towards his conspiratorially, and he shifted closer as well. "I don't think it's much of a mystery for me. I mean, look at our clothes."

His eyes wandered down to her deep V halter before seeming to realize he was still in his reds. "Fair point," he conceded, pulling back a little to take another sip of his drink.

"So?"

"A friend dragged me out," he admitted, eyes sliding back over to her. She raised both of her eyebrows as if she was surprised and didn't see Kirk abandoning him just five minutes ago.

"And left you to fend for yourself in a dive like this?" She shook her head as if scandalized by the idea. "You need better friends."

The cadet snorted and nodded his head. "You've got that right."

"Well, you're very lucky I found you before another girl did," Y/N said, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"That so?"

She nodded. "They may try to take advantage of you in such a defenseless state. All alone by the bar nursing a...what is that, whiskey?"

"Bourbon, actually." His eyes sparkled with an intoxicating warmth similar to the liquor he was drinking.

Y/N rolled her eyes lightly. "Same thing."

"Only technically."

"Technicalities are everything," she grinned. "Anyway, I'm willing to offer my protective services as a long time San Francisco resident to navigate these treacherous waters."

"You're from here?" he asked, genuine curiosity overtaking his features for the first time in their conversation. Y/N's smile turned a bit strained, but she nodded.

"Not quite. But I've been here for fifteen years. Just haven't figured out how to drop the accent," she shrugged.

"So are you from England then?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Next round's on me if you can guess where."

"Lon…" he started, and a grin grew across Y/N's face before he switched course. "Birmingham?"

She shook her head. "London."

"You tricked me," he accused lightly, his brow furrowing slightly but into more of mock offense and surprise at her cunning than anything else.

"You're highly suggestible," she shook her head, fighting to keep a smile down. "Which brings me back to the fact that you absolutely cannot remain alone in this bar tonight. It's far too dangerous for you."

"Guess I'll have to take you up on that offer then, darlin'." His smile was more subtle--apparently the fight to keep it off his face was going better for him.

"Y/N," she corrected, lifting her hand to offer it to him.

The man took it, his fingers surprisingly soft for a cadet. "Leonard," he answered.

Y/N let her hand linger in his, not pulling back until his grip loosened and his fingers trailed against hers to go back around his glass. She leaned her elbow on the back of the chair, placing her chin on top of her hand. "So Leonard," she asked. "Are you going to buy me a drink or am I working for free?"

He smirked, lifting a hand to call the bartender over as Y/N slid into the seat next to him, leaning her arms against the smooth chrome bar. The Tellarite bartender made his way over, and Leonard looked at Y/N.

"Well are you going to order or sit there staring at each other?" the bartender snapped. Leonard shot him a dirty look, and Y/N snorted.

"I'll have a Samarian Sunset on his tab," she ordered, pointing a finger at Leonard, and the man grunted. Leonard still looked rather displeased with the exchange but ordered himself another bourbon. The bartender walked away grumbling, and even Leonard looked rather grumpy.

"You know that's just his way of greeting right?" Y/N asked, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Tellarites consider it polite to attempt to start an argument when meeting someone. If he wasn't mildly insulting I would have been majorly insulted."

"And I thought you were kidding about being a guide."

"I would never," Y/N said with mock indignation, placing a hand over her heart. "Leonard, I take my promise to you very seriously. I will be at your side all night."

"All night?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

"All night," Y/N repeated with a nod, keeping her eyes locked on Leonard. He met her gaze with an intensity that made her stomach twist with delight. And of course it was right then that bartender reappeared.

He placed a martini glass full of clear liquid in front of Y/N, and a rocks glass with amber liquor in front of Leonard before making a derisive noise in his throat and walking away. Leonard didn't seem to mind as much this time.

"Cheers," Y/N said, reaching forward with her glass, and Leonard clinked his against hers, lifting it to his lips. She watched intently as she swirled her own drink so that a luminescent gold wisp spiraled out, turning the clear liquor the color of a burning sun. He pulled the glass from his lips, and she returned her attention to her own drink, taking a slow sip before placing it back down on the bar.

"So, Leonard," Y/N let the name roll off her tongue teasingly. "Tell me about yourself. Where are you from? What are you studying?"

"I'm a medical student," he said, setting his own glass down. "And I'm from Georgia."

"Ooh, a doctor and a southern gentleman," Y/N teased, shimmying her shoulders. "My mother would be so proud of me."

"Who said I'm a gentleman?" he asked with raised eyebrows, leaning closer to her. Y/N's mouth fell open slightly before she caught herself, stopping her body from melting completely right there in the seat.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, Leonard," she quipped, taking a sip of her drink.

"If you didn't want a good time then why did you come over here?" he asked, and Y/N grinned at him.

"Because you look like a man who doesn't dance."

"Well darlin," Leonard started, his eyes sparkling with the slightest bit of mischief and a look on his face that was enough to make something delicious twist in the pit of Y/N's stomach. "The night's still young."

The night grew in both the amount of time passed and the amount of drinks finished. It was hard to state exactly how much of either had slipped away from the two of them as their glasses had been cleared a few times, but the world was just a bit lighter and hazier at the edges than was usual and the crowd slightly thinner than it had been when Y/N entered.

"Well, darlin'," Leonard's accent had grown heavier with the liquor, words dripping like molasses from his lips. "I should be gettin' back before curfew."

Y/N exhaled, the sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "Leonard," she said slowly, dragging out the word. Her own accent adding a richness to her words that had been precise and sharp earlier in the evening. "I thought I made it quite clear that I wasn't leaving your side all night, so you can't go running off to the dorms on me now."

"Need me to walk you home?" he asked, pausing from putting on his coat to settle the tab.

"Such a southern gentleman," the words rolled like waves from her, her voice rising and falling as he lifted an eyebrow at the screen he was signing. "Yes, I require an accompaniment home," she mocked. "And then I need you to pick a side you want me on for the next part of our night: top or bottom."

Leonard's eyes darkened, pupils blown wide before grabbing her hand and leaving the bar behind.

The cab ride to her apartment was...restrained. The two of them sat shoulder to shoulder in the backseat, eyes focused ahead through the windshield. Even as Y/N's hand drifted from her own lap into his, venturing up his thigh, both of them remained focused on the passing San Francisco streets. Leonard's hand came on top of her own. "Just wait, darlin'," he said, his words dripping with the richness of molasses as he folded his hand around hers.

"It's not polite to make a lady wait," Y/N quipped, shooting him a look out of the corner of her eye.

He snorted but made no attempt at a retort, instead patiently holding her hand until the cab stopped. Y/N opened her door, dragging Leonard by the hand and towards her apartment building.

The ride on the elevator was just as restrained as the cab drive, only instead of the beautiful lights of downtown, the pair stared at their distorted reflection in the sleek chrome doors.

There was a hum in the elevator though. Inaudible, but she could feel it singing across her skin, radiating from each part of her body that touched Leonard's. She bit her lip, and could feel Leonard look down at her. She allowed her gaze to slide over to him, drifting up to his face, meeting his eyes, already dark and boring into hers.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the doors slid open, pulling their attention away from each other and out of the elevator.

The pair walked down the hallway, stopping outside of her door so she could punch in the code. It took two tries for her to get it before the door clicked and she pushed it open, revealing her dark apartment. Y/N ventured in first, turning to invite Leonard in, but she'd barely opened her mouth before her face was in his hands, and he was walking her back into the wall.

The light switch jammed into her shoulder blade, and she felt a bit off balance, but his lips moved over hers with such a ferocity, it pushed everything else from her mind. Instead, all she could focus on was the feeling of his lips against hers, the taste of the sharp tang of alcohol he'd been drinking all evening. He invaded her senses, making it impossible to think of anything other than pulling him closer to her.

Y/N wound her fingers into his hair, urging him nearer to her, which he did, stepping forward, and moving a hand from her face to her waist, pulling her flush against him. His other hand wandered down to her chest as his lips began a journey down the curve of her neck. "I don't usually do this type of thing," he murmured against her skin.

"Go home with--ah--a strange woman from the--fu--the bar?" Y/N panted, pushing her hips into his for a taste of the friction she needed.

He pulled himself away from her collarbone to look up at her with hooded eyes. "Exactly."

"You're missing out," Y/N grinned, chest heaving. "Now take off your clothes so I can prove it to you."

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of bare skin and desperate sounds and more pleasure than Y/N had gotten out of a night out in a while.

It almost made her sad to see him go in the morning. Almost.

But him leaving was always a part of her plan for Saturday morning. Whether it was before or after breakfast, he would walk out of her apartment, never to be seen again. Instead, he'd fade into a memory of lips trailing against skin, fingers tangling in hair, bed frame rattling into the wall.

At least that's what was supposed to happen.

She wasn't supposed to see him again.

And she especially wasn't supposed to see him in a starship's transporter room, rushing towards her as she pressed her hand into Kiesh's side, desperate to keep the blood inside of her friend's body and not spilling out onto the transporter pad. He wasn't supposed to be there. And neither was she.

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strangeinternetwasteland · 4 years

Text

Mating Season- Hawks x Fem! Reader 18+

A/n: thank you to the beautiful and talented @titanialev once again for feeding me ideas check out her art for this piece here

Warnings: Sex, biting

Word count: 2.5k

This day seemed to have dragged on forever. Work couldn’t be over soon enough. How much fun could you have working at a civilian bank. Nothing of note happened here, all you did was count money and do paperwork all day. The few times you got to text your boyfriend he didn’t respond, but that was probably because he was out patrolling, or doing something for the Commission. He was one lucky bastard.

After a few more hours of torturously boring paperwork you sluggishly waved goodbye to your coworkers and walked out of work. You check your phone one last time before walking home. You smiled as you saw the text you received from your boyfriend. Nothing in the world made you more excited.

The parking lot of your work was always empty, but today it seemed even emptier. Those who couldn’t wait to get home left quickly. Not that you could blame them.There was only one place you wanted to be anyway. “Well isn’t there a sight for sore eyes?” You heard a male voice say to you. You huffed at the attention. Any man who used a cheesy pick up line deserved to be punched. You really just wanted to punch that smug voice in the throat. You groaned internally, rolled your eyes and looked toward the voice.

“Look, here asshole!” You started saying but when your eyes fell on the most handsome man you ever laid eyes on. His golden eyes pierced your soul. All the anger you felt melted looking at him. How could it not when you’re looking at your boyfriend.

“I was going to punch you, you know.” You told him. As you looked at him, you saw him leaning against his car hood casually. Wearing his black leather jacket, blue jeans, and sunglasses he looked like a model.

“Yeah, I know. I had to come see my dove.” He told you as he walked over to you.

“This is most certainly a surprise, you never pick me up on Fridays, you’re usually out patrolling until late.” You said surprised as you two embraced. The warmth of his body made you shiver, even though the evening was warm for the season.

“There are few things in life that I like, you are probably my most favorite.” He muttered into your lips as he pressed his lips into yours. Those soft lips the way they seemed to mold with yours so perfectly. He loved making you flustered in public, and especially in front of your co-workers. You broke the kiss, and your face warmed.

“Keigo, please stop, you’re flustering me.” You whined. He laughed at your remark.

“I like you flustered. If everything goes, right you’ll be more than flustered by the end of the night.” He whispered against your ear. You felt the hair on your neck stand at his comment. He took your hand and walked to the passenger side of the car. You slid into the seat, and buckled yourself in. Keigo slid in the driver’s seat and turned the radio on. You normally wouldn’t think twice, since you both listened to the radio, but you heard Keigo belt out in a terribly strangled voice:

“This is the part when I say I don’t wanna, I’m stronger than I’ve been before. This is the part when I break free cause I can’t resist it no more.” You stared at your boyfriend like he grew two heads. The fact that he was singing wasn’t what made you want to laugh, it was when he started dancing in the seat. When he stopped the car at a red light, and turned up the music, you weren’t even sure if he was actually you boyfriend.

The driver in the next car over just looked at him and started laughing. You were a bit embarrassed but when you realized that he was having fun, who were you to stop him? When he had continued singing, and this time surprisingly well, you couldn’t help but laugh. He was definitely in a good mood, but something seemed a bit off, and you couldn’t explain it. You thought no more of it, as Keigo turned into the parking garage that was attached to your building.

“Here, I thought we were going to take me to dinner.” You mused aloud and gave him a sweet smile.

“My little bird, I’ve decided that I’d make dinner for you tonight.” He gave you his smug smile that make you melt.

“Oh, I didn’t know you could actually cook, Kei. We’ve been together for a while and you’ve cooked only breakfast for me.” You teased him. He visibly tensed up at your comment.

“Oh, no I am sorry, babe. I didn’t mean it.” You tried to calm him down.

“It’s fine, let’s just go inside.” He told you before he got out of the car to open your door. You walked toward the penthouse you shared while Keigo followed behind you. You both stayed silent while making your way.

After unlocking the door, you sighed heavily. You made him upset, and you knew it. It was best to leave it alone for now. Keigo walked in behind you and wrapped you in his wings and placed a kiss on the nape of your neck, causing shivers to run down your body.

“Dove, you go take a bath and relax. I’ll make us some dinner.” He reassured you. You did as he suggested. The warmth of the bath made your muscles relax and you felt your eyes getting heavy. You heard a soft knock at the door just before you fell asleep.

“Hey, dinner is almost ready, but please don’t rush on my account.” Keigo told you and he left the door slightly ajar. You decided that instead of sleeping you should wash your body quickly and join him for dinner.

After stepping out from the bathroom in your bedroom, you heard the sizzling of meat, smelled garlic, and onions. Your mouth started watering and your stomach rumbled. You were hungry. You went to your top drawer where you kept your panties, and found a handwritten note, from Keigo. It was written in his undeniable scrawl, ‘Go look in the closet’. You debated on it for a moment, you really didn’t want to wear anything but pajamas, but also, Keigo didn’t go out of his way for no reason.

When entering the walk in closet you found a garment bag hanging in the front of your side of the closet. You unzippered the bag, and found yourself staring at the most gorgeous, black silk halter dress. You’d been eyeing this one for a while now, and when you did go buy it, it was sold out. You decided that you could spend your money on something you needed instead of something you wanted. It wasn’t meant to be for you. Here it was, hanging right in front of your eyes. You quickly changed into it, foregoing any underwear, and went to do your hair and makeup quickly.

After ten more minutes, you were assaulted with whatever food was currently cooking. You saw Keigo swaying to the music he put on, his wings slowly rising and falling with the beat. This time, it wasn’t Ariana Grande, but watching him move was mesmerizing. You noticed the whole dining area was covered with candlelight. The curves and flicker of the flames drew shadows on the wall. The sizzling had died down, and plates were placed on the table.

“Kei, this is so beautiful. What on earth is all this about?” You asked, eyeing the beautiful bouquet on the table. He turned to see you, and gave you the biggest smile.

“Can I not do something for the woman, I love?” He asked as he pulled you into a slow dance. You notice he had changed out of his jeans and tee shirt into a button down shirt and dress pants. Your heart fluttered at his words. Of course, you loved him, and he loved you. You two spent your days off entangled in one another, but this was a different side of Keigo, you’d never seen before.

After the slow dance was over, Keigo brought you to the table to eat your food, where he was a gentleman, by pulling out your chair and pushing it for you. You smiled at him. His eyes glanced over your body, the lust very evident.

“You look so beautiful, my dove. You truly are a vision.” He spoke as he kissed your hand.

“Thank you, but where did you find this dress? It’s been sold out as long as we’ve been dating. It wasn’t necessary to buy it.” You told him with excitement.

“The thing is, I am a hero. Even in civilian form, everyone knows who I am. You know I am willing to pay for the things you want. People are willing to do things when a hero asks.” He waved his words away.

“Well, thank you, but it wasn’t necessary. This dinner looks amazing and smells just as good.” You replied. He gave you a knowing smile.

The conversation throughout dinner was light. The two of you discussed the other heros and his agency. You discussed how boring work was, and how nothing ever happened, but you knew the reason nothing happened was because the Heroes did their patrolling properly.

Keigo took the dishes and cleared them from the table and brought out a small four layered chocolate cake topped with strawberries and whipped cream.

“Did you make this yourself too?” You questioned him. “It looks like something from that little bakery I like not too far from the bank.”

“I admit. I didn’t think about dessert until right before I picked you up from work. So it is from the bakery, yes.” He admitted to you as he sat down in his chair. You didn’t wait, you took your fork and shoved it right into the cake. Not waiting for Keigo at all. You hummed happily and smiled at your boyfriend. You took your finger and swiped a bit of whipped cream from the top of the cake. Pointing the finger at Keigo’s face, he debated for a moment leaned forward and bit your finger.

“Ow! What the hell?” You jerked your hand back. “That really hurt. Why would you ever bite me?” You questioned him, giving him a bit of side eye.

“Sorry, I guess. I am feeling a little off tonight.” He told you slumping his shoulders. He took the rest of the cake, wrapped it back up in it’s packaging and placed it in the refrigerator to keep cool.

You genuinely felt bad for him. He looked so down, when not even moments ago his spirit was so high.

“I guess, I will just call it a night. I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just being playful.” He told you as he walked into the bedroom. You couldn’t be mad at him. The man you loved more than anything, had danced with you, had made you the most delicious dinner, he sang to you, he bought you the dress you wanted since before you two were dating. What more could a girl possibly want?

“Keigo, look. I-” You started saying as you walked into the bedroom. When you entered you saw Keigo wearing nothing but a bow. He looked up at you sheepishly.

“What-” The next thing you knew his mouth was on yours as he kissed you deeply. His hands running over your curves, feeling nothing but your dress beneath his hands. You snaked one arm around him and pulled him close.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you today Keigo, but you’re acting strange.” He grabbed your hips and pressed you against the wall.

“I can only think about one thing… being inside of you.” His voice was dark with lust. He pressed his bulge against you, while undoing the ties of your dress. He didn’t care about anything other than unloading himself into you.

“My dress!” You cried as he tore it off.

“I will buy you 100 more, I just need you right now.” His warm breath on your neck. Without a care, he thrusted himself deep inside you. He moaned in ecstasy.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He thrusted into you again as he hardened even more. “Dove, I don’t know what is wrong with me. I’ve been on edge all day.”

While you normally didnt mind the sex, there was an edge of anger and desperation to it today. Thinking back on it, you two had been together for a little less than a year. It was Rumi who had told you on a drunken girls night out that once a year, when it was rutting or mating season, she’d act more aggressive than normal. She told you that normally she’d find whatever poor soul she could to take care of it. When you had asked her if Keigo went through the same things, she told you probably, but wasn’t sure how he went about it. It was after that night you’d done some research on the subject.

“God, you look so beautiful, my little bird.” His gold eyes bore into your soft (eye color) ones. His thrusting sped up faster. He nipped at the tender spots of your neck, groaning into you.

“Keigo.” His lips crashed onto yours again, tangling his tongue with yours. He was too far gone in his haze to respond to you. He spread his wings behind him as wide as he could, you remembered seeing this once before when studying biology. Keigo didn’t seem to have noticed that he was showing off his feathers.

Suddenly, he picked you up and threw you onto the bed. His wings at thier full span.

“I am going to fuck you straight through this bed.” He hissed in your ear and he closed the gap between the two of you. He thrusted himself in you again with more force than before. Harder and faster he crashed into you again and again. His wings opening and closing with his pace. You felt him as he came closer to his limit. His breathing severely labored. His mind no longer concerned with his normal traditions with you. Mating was the only thing on his mind. Releasing this angry beast that overtook him. A final few thrusts, and he released every drop of his seed into you.

You felt his racing heart slow a bit, and he got his breathing back to normal. You laid underneath him as he had wrapped his wings around you, as he normally did after love making. The haze of lust that filled his eyes was gone. His golden eyes looked at you with love again. He peppered your face with kisses, as you stroked his wings. As he laid his head on your chest for a brief moment, you heard the faintest whisper from him.

“I love you so much, Y/N. Be mine forever. Marry me.” Those were the last words you heard before you both fell asleep.

#mha keigo x reader #hawks x reader #bnha smut #bnha hawks

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