Crush

Crush

Crush

summary: prompt fill. you and Wally are buddies. friends who share mutuals; occupy the same social circles, but have never spent any time just you and him, exclusive and alone. That? is something Wally is desperate to change. and it seems you feel the same way... (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut lite. feelgood. oneshot. AU - everyone's alive. getting together.

joyeuses Easter, fam 🐰🐣🥕

___________________________🌻

Crush

Wally's head lifts as soon as the door opens. The little bell tinkles; the breeze carries your perfume through the space. He closes his eyes, inhales deeply, not more than a fraction of a second, but he still feels exposed.

Cue vibrant, colorful background; glitter and hearts; slow-motion and strings. You step through the door and into frame, looking like a vision. Crisp against the fading world behind you.

God dammit, Wally has a problem.

Not that anyone seems to notice. Whatever crush Wally has on you is explained away by his excitable nature. His touches sweet, but not exclusive. His attention cute, but equally spread amongst those he loves.

Wally doesn't feel like it's equally spread. At all. Not even a little. He feels like you're the only thing he can see, hear, smell, touch. You occupy more brainspace than his own personality.

Does he even remember his address? His birthday? His name?

You plop down in the open seat beside him—saved just for you, and no one argued because, at this point, it's expected—and smile brightly at everyone, offering greetings and apologies for being late.

No. Wally doesn't remember anything about himself, but he sure as shit remembers everything about you, including your ridiculous coffee order which the barista kindly delivers to the table upon Wally's signal.

You turn sideways in your seat, patting a rhythm on Wally's leg, imparting your giddiness as you rev yourself up for Sunday Trivia. Wally's heart practically erupts from his body, Alien chestburster, fucking wrecked and melted and soppy the instant your hands and that gorgeous smile land on him.

"We're gonna win this week," You declare, ruffling his hair as you correct your position to take a sip of your coffee. "I can feel it."

"That's what you said last week," He chuckles, desperately hoping his cheeks aren't as pink as they feel.

As casual as can be, he swings his arm up and rests it on the back of your chair, thumb stretched to swipe the soft skin of your shoulder. Wally's eyes are glued to the blank trivia answers sheet as he pretends to be totally normal about you, not hyperventilating on the inside at all.

"Yeah, but last week Rhonda brought Quinn. This week, Rhonda and Quinn are busy. We're gonna win," You explain with a grin, eyes sparkling when you wink at him.

Fuck your kissable smile, your lickable skin, your soft shapes that Wally wants to trace with his fingers and tongue and teeth. You can't look at him like that.

Somehow, he manages to play it cool; holds up his end of the conversation like a champ, teasing you as much as flirting, and making you laugh so suddenly, you almost spit-take all over poor Charley, innocently sitting across from you.

"You guys are the worst," He grumps, "You need to be separated."

"Absolutely not," You say without hesitation, "We're too good a team."

Wally agrees around the girly squeal lodged in his throat. Thankfully still in there, and not out in the wild for everyone to hear and judge.

Trivia starts minutes later, the emcee upbeat as always, and you and Wally kill it. Through cackles and competitive rants and good-natured heckling, you and he take home the prize: A weird-looking, multicolored crocheted monstrosity with too many arms. Made lovingly by one of the baristas. Or made in spite.

You name him Samuel.

Wally falls more in love.

"We need to think up a custody agreement," You say through a chuckle as he escorts you to the bus stop, squishing Samuel to your chest.

Wally studies Samuel with an ill-concealed look of disturbance, "Nah, it's, uh...he's all yours."

You burst out laughing, "Do you hate our child, Clark? He can hear you, you know."

"I love him with my whole heart," Wally defends, eyes wide in mock-surprise that you would accuse him of such a thing. "But I think he'll be happier with you," another look of distaste at Samuel, "I'm willing to sacrifice my legal rights."

"You're a shitty liar," You shove Wally's arm playfully and he just about swoons. Your touch, no matter how innocent, is like fire.

And then that's it, all done, Sunday over. You're on the bus, blowing an exaggerated kiss at Wally as you board with Samuel and leave Wally standing on the curb like a lovestruck idiot.

He's so gone for you, it's not even funny anymore.

‗•‗

Wally hates weekdays. This isn't new. He hated them before you transferred from the fancy school to Split River High last year. Only now, he hates them more. Because you're a social butterfly—not unlike him—who bounces from group to group and spends lunch on a rotation.

See, thing is, while you and Wally are inseparable during group activities, you and he don't actually hang out. You aren't besties who make one-on-one plans unless it's to hit every antique store in the radius of town to hunt down something haunted for Maddie's birthday. Usually with Simon and Nicole in tow.

So, not one-on-one, but that's as close as Wally's come to it. And, God, does he savor those moments. When the group is smaller and he doesn't have to split his attention; can keep it squarely on you where it belongs.

You're fun and flirty and dynamic, always up for an adventure. Creative. Silly. A positive influence who drives Wally to be a better person. You make him ambitious. Force him to see things from new perspectives, even in the small bursts he gets of your sunshine soul.

He's not obsessed, you are 😒

Doesn't matter how much more time Wally wants to spend with you; you've never indicated that you want the same. You seem content bouncing into his arms when circumstance brings you and he together, and you merrily leave it at that.

Wally's going fucking crazy thinking about you from dusk 'til dawn, while you flutter between friend groups, none the wiser, animatedly waving to him when you catch his eye across the cafeteria. And, Jesus, you're gorgeous, eyes squinted up like that to accommodate your megawatt smile.

Sometimes (often), Wally wonders what your face looks like when you're not smiling at him. When you're feeling something that isn't bright and buoyant. Say, for example, desire. Do your features slacken? Do your eyes go heavy? Do your lips part on a sigh as Wally's hand glides lightly up your spine, fingertips skipping between the vertebrae, his mouth centimeters from yours, humid breath mingling—

Shit. Fuck. He's hard. Shifts his hips under the table and prays no one notices.

They don't, thank Christ, Rodney and Ajay arguing about who should've won the Mock Trial last week while Charley complains that none of it matters, it's fake, and they'd be terrible lawyers anyway.

When Wally looks up again, you've vanished, likely breezed off to Art Club or Robotics or to get ready for gym. He doesn't know your schedule, can only guess, but he knows it involves people who aren't him and, yeah, so what, he's jealous.

He wants your attention all for himself. Wants you to want him as much as he wants you because it's killing him being the only one to exist in this state of desperation and delusion. He needs you to notice him. Needs you to trip over yourself because you caught a glimpse of him. Needs you to blush and stammer and giggle nervously when he pins you with his gaze.

Honestly, Wally probably needs a new hobby.

‗•‗

"Samuel misses his daddy," You tell him, right in his ear, above the music blaring from Xavier's shitty truck stereo.

Wally's brain bluescreens so hard—...daddy...—he thinks he passes out for a moment. You're pressed up against his side, a hot line of flesh his hand itches to touch, squeezed like a sardine between Wally and Simon.

It's another outing. A day trip to Bradford Beach. Carpools and highway games and, now, godawful karaoke that Claire's DJing from the passenger seat, a wicked grin on her face as Simon belts out that part from Bohemian Rhapsody for the third time in an hour.

Wally still can't breathe when he chances to look you in the eye, sees you grinning manically in your seat as you blink those sweet, faux-innocent eyes up at him. You know what you did, naughty little girl. And you're clearly not sorry at all. You clearly want to get Wally flustered and tight-collared and hot.

Or he's misreading you completely, and that's your regular teasing look, Wally's just so fucking horny for you he sees what he wants. Confirmation bias or whatever.

"He does?" Wally manages to put some volume behind his voice. "And what do you think I should do about it?"

You shrug, "Whatever you want."

I want to fuck you against a wall about it, Wally thinks, but outwardly smiles, toothy and cheerful. "Maybe I should take him next weekend. You know, make sure he knows his daddy loves him." And he stares intensely into your eyes when he says the last part.

He isn't sure, but he thinks it works. A beautiful pink blossoms on the apples of your cheeks, and Wally has to hold himself back from punching the air.

This is new. This sort of intense, almost intentional flirting. Winding you up for the sake of getting you flustered. Ohhh, Wally's going to have fun with this. Is determined to coax that blush out of you again and again until you snap.

Does this count as a new hobby?

‗•‗

Okay. So. Apparently, you lock in, challenge accepted, because things aren't going exactly how Wally planned. He's at his wits' end, vibrating out of his fucking skin, ready to explode while he watches you gyrate to the music. Nothing too nasty-filthy-dirty, but your body moves like liquid, and your hips give Wally too many ideas to keep track of.

You're dancing with Claire, bodies tightly fitted, both wearing big smiles, and smeared in glitter and rhinestones. The second weekend of Summerfest. A handful of the group pitched in to stay from Friday to Monday morning at a cheap Airbnb not too far from the park.

It's sundown, the air finally cool, the bass shaking the earth beneath Wally's feet, and he's totally enraptured. The past month has been heaven and hell combined as you and he played flirty chicken. Who will take it there.

Maybe you think it's a game, maybe you're serious about seeing him fall apart for you; he doesn't know and, frankly, doesn't care at this point. Gone too far, in too deep. And, fuck, you fill out those tiny denim shorts so well, that beaded top barely clinging to your tits as you rub your ass against Claire's thigh.

He tries to focus on the music, on the crowd and the atmosphere, but it's so hard—he's so hard, thank God his shirt is long and boxy—and you're throwing your head back, smooth neck on display, singing along like a wet dream.

Wally isn't going to make it to the end of the night.

Next stage, next band, lake air doing a shit job cooling Wally's skin when you shimmy into his space after shooing Claire toward the cute guy who's been falling over himself for her since noon. You and he mimic each other's goofy dance moves, safe, silly, to the first three songs.

And then, the air punched out of his chest, you fit yourself so neatly against him, back to chest, head on his shoulder, twisting and writhing to the sexiest song of the summer. His hands clench your hips, keep you pinned, and he doesn't have the mental power to care if he's being too obvious anymore. He has to feel you against him, right on his hard-on.

You must feel it, there's no way you don't, but you aren't pushing him away, your fingers instead kneading his thigh so nicely his eyes close and lips part and he's panting like a dog into your neck. His lips graze the shell of your ear, breath tickling your skin.

"Fuck," He chokes when your ass hitches against his cock, stars exploding behind his lids, his fingers so tight in your flesh he's sure he's going to leave marks.

He feels you shiver, feels your gasp on his cheek as he gazes down at you, and he knows his eyes are dark, blown greedy in a need he can't ignore like he used to. Your eyes are equally as heated and, yep, that's fucking it, he has to touch you, taste you, make you beg for him to take you apart and piece you together again.

The night is cut short. An Irish exit. The journey back to the Airbnb is quiet, stifling, thick with desire that neither you nor he acknowledges until he pushes you through the door and presses you against it once it closes with a resounding click. His hands on your ass as he lifts you so he can grind his cock against the imprint of your pussy through those sweet little shorts.

Your legs wrap around his waist, your fingers tug his hair, and Wally's vision whites out.

"Jesus, babygirl, I've never needed someone so bad in my life," He rasps, teeth sinking into the join of your neck and shoulder, "I want you so bad, baby, please."

And you keen, head thrown back, hips matching his movements, perfect body tensing and releasing in his arms as you hump into him.

"Wally~."

It's a plea and a command that he's only too happy to oblige. Carries you into the one room with a lock and throws you on the bed you and Claire were going to share while Wally and Diego took the pullout couch in the main space.

So much for that. Claire probably isn't coming back tonight, anyway, and who knows what Diego got up to, most likely with Nicole and Charley and Yuri, deep in the crowd at the final performance of the night.

You were looking forward to it. Guess you changed your mind, Wally smirks into your throat, even more turned on at the thought that you needed to put him first. So hot for him. Desperate for his hands on you. His lips. His tongue. Don't worry, baby, he won't disappoint.

It's a struggle to get that beaded top off you, laced and knotted so intricately, Wally's tempted to just rip it off you. So he does. Beads fly everywhere, showering the bed, oops. But, you laugh, roll him onto his back to straddle his hips, and then surge into him to kiss him for the first time.

God yes, this is exactly how he imagined it. Your soft lips yielding to his, wet and deep and slow, in stark contrast to his frantic hands trying to touch every inch of your body at once.

You bear down as he grinds up, his cock straining, dribbling, and there's a damp stain at the front of your shorts that tells him what he needs to know.

"Gonna be such a good girl for me, aren't you?" He says, voice wrecked, hand fisting your hair to hold you still so he can have your attention. "Aren't you, baby?"

Fuck, so that's what you look like when you're foggy with desire. That's how you sound. Wally's convinced he's not going to last much longer under those eyes, hearing those noises; weak and wanting and just for him.

He flips the position, loves how you feel under him, body so soft it fits into his lines and angles perfectly. Shorts and panties and boxers go flying, and then he's on you, in you, deep as he can get, moaning wantonly with your nipple between his teeth.

"You're such a good girl," He praises, "Taking all of me."

You arch, bearing down harder, taking him impossibly deeper, and your pussy is so perfect he thinks he meets God. He can't keep himself still anymore, as much as he wants to savor the sensation of having you so completely around him. He begins to move, sharp, hard strokes that force those sounds he's getting addicted to from your chest.

"Oh, fuck, Wally," You whimper, meeting his rhythm, over and over and over, stoking the fire, making his brain smoke and his belly tight and his body so hot he'll combust, he knows he will, how can he not.

"That's it, baby," He pants, moving faster, harder, testing angles until you scream in ecstasy, pussy gripping him tighter because he found what he was looking for. "You like how I feel inside you?"

You're a mess beneath him, and he can't get enough. Is fucking starving for more. He rears back, takes you with him as he settles on his haunches, you held in his lap, your arms around his shoulders as he bounces you on his cock.

He can't stop, can't slow down, can't fathom anything outside of this moment as he beats his cock into you from below. Sweat on his brow, licking into your mouth when you begin to tremble and warn him, you're gonna make me come, and, fuck yeah, he is.

Holy shit, you're a goddess when you let go, screaming his name like rapture. That's all it takes, pussy convulsing around him, and he's gone. Plummeting over the edge headfirst into pure, absolute euphoria.

Wally collapses on top of you, head between your tits, sucking in gulps of air as his hands smooth down your sides, thighs, up again and along your arms so he can lace his fingers with yours above your head.

When he lifts his head to look at you, he goes soft as pudding. The smile you're wearing is completely lax, blissful and sweet, and he has to kiss it.

Minutes later, the afterglow thinning, "So," you say quietly, gazing up at him with a sparkle in your eye, "That finally happened."

Wally cocks his head, "Finally?"

"Yeah, Clark. Finally." You snicker, "I've only wanted you to do that to me forever." You fix him with a look, one that tells him he's an idiot, "You're not very good at picking up hints, are you?"

He chuckles, shakes his head in disbelief, "Seriously? No. I'm more of a direct-communication guy."

"You suck at that, too, then," You decide, smile growing, "Because you never directly communicated that you liked me like that."

"Nor did you," He points out, one eyebrow lifting. "So, you suck just as bad."

You lean up and lip his earlobe, "Trust me, Wally, when I suck, it's not bad."

Ah, so this is how he's going to spend his night, huh?

This definitely counts as a new hobby.

‗•‗

The next morning, cuddled close and feeling affectionate, you murmur, "Samuel's gonna be happy that his daddy's back in the picture."

You have got to stop using that term if you want to walk normally again, baby, please.

"Just Samuel?" Wally grins as he licks and nips your pulse point, his big hand gliding down your side to your hip. He rocks his hips forward so you can feel exactly where calling him daddy gets you. "No one else?"

"Can't think of anyone," You say, but your voice is breathy and high.

"That's too bad. I was really hoping you wanted me around." He plays at detaching from you.

Immediately, you cling to him, expression grouchy and words fierce, "You're not going anywhere, Wally, I waited way too long for this."

He melts, eyes going all soft and tender, his hand finding your jaw, thumb on your cheek, dipping in for a short, fond kiss.

"Me too, baby."

"No. Really," You implore, "I had to get new hobbies, Wally, it was driving me insane. I couldn't think of anything else," and you say it so easily. So direct and honest, his heart swells.

"Pick up anything interesting?"

You snort, "No. Just long drives to the sex shop in Cedarburg."

Blue. Screen.

"That counts as a hobby?" He wheezes, mind already churning out images of you indulging in your new pastime. Yep, yes, yeah, Wally could see himself partaking in that one, no resistance.

"It occupies a lot of leisure time, and I do it for pleasure. Pretty sure that's the definition of a hobby."

Wally squeezes your ass, drives your hips into his to show you how interested he is in hearing more about how you spend your free time.

"You know," He starts, lowering to graze his nose up your neck, dry lips following, hips beginning to grind at a slow, lazy tempo, "I heard that couples who share hobbies stay together longer."

"Yeah?" Said in a breath, your back arching and your chest pressing into his. "I definitely wanna make this last." Then, sultry and playful, "When should we start?"

Wally smirks. He doesn't bother to respond, simply spends the first hours you and he are supposed to be at the festival memorizing your body: where to touch, bite, kiss, lick.

Mastering the craft, as it were, because Wally Clark takes his hobbies very fucking seriously.

🌻___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

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if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Cuddle Bug.

fluff. smut lite. a flashfic exploration of Wally's inability to be anything but a plural image when you're within reach. aka: he's codependent as fuck and neither you nor he care.

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MY LOVE. luke (pjo)

( master list )

IN WHICH… the half-blood campers live in a world where everybody is granted a soulmate. Everybody but the favoured child of Aphrodite, who was always destined to live a life without true love.

“My love is mine, all mine. I love mine, mine, mine. Nothing in the world belongs to me.”

( inaccurate details )

Warnings : Slight angst, not proofread (grammar mistakes)

A/N : late Valentines special… oops

—

MY LOVE. Luke (pjo)

Depending on what type of person you were, the concept of soulmates were either a blessing or a curse. To Y/N L/N, it was neither because she was never given a partner. The unseeable red string tied around her left ring finger never led to anybody else. Her skin never replicated the wounds of another person. Her world was always a scope covered in bright colours instead of depressing grey hues.

To others, her lack of a soulmate was great. She was free to love whomever she wanted without having to worry about a so-called soulmate. To her, it was hell. While it was true that she could like any person she chose, she would never be their first option. She was smart and beautiful and charming but their ideal pick would always be their soulmate.

It was sad, honestly. Especially when she knew boys would like her if soulmates didn’t exist.

Even when Y/N arrived at Camp Half-Blood, she was an exception. No soulmate meant no love life in other people’s eyes so it shocked everyone when Y/N was claimed by the very person who created the idea of fated partners. Aphrodite.

Y/N was awoken by loud giggles. She cracked an eye open, staring at her siblings across from her. “Why are you all up so early?” She almost groaned. It was seven in the morning and she knew her siblings always valued their beauty sleep. “Is Elvis Presley here or something?”

“No.” Silena grinned at Y/N, her cheeks flushing a pale pink colour, “Even better. A new boy just arrived last night and rumour has it that he’s cute. Cuter than Malcom.”

Malcom was an Ares kid. Ares and Aphrodite children always got along for some reason and because their parents had a complicated love relationship, so did they.

“Malcom isn’t that good-looking. What about Ben?” Y/N retorted, kicking her blankets off.

“I think Nigel is better.” Another sibling piped up, causing the whole cabin to burst into muffled laughter.

“That’s because you’re gay, Andrew!” They all exclaimed in unison, trying not to wake the other cabins.

Y/N leaned her head against her fluffed up pillow, gazing at Silena. “So, what’s this cutie’s name?”

“Luke.” Silena immediately answered, proud of herself for remembering the new camper’s name. “He came with Grover and a little girl.”

“Annabeth.” Andrew added. Y/N quietly hummed.

“Don’t be too loud.” She muttered, “I still want to sleep.”

As the commotion amongst her siblings died down, they too went back to bed. Y/N watched as Silena traced her soulmate tattoo before lying down, gently smiling. Y/N glanced at her own wrist, imagining her own mark inked onto her skin. What was it like knowing you were destined to love someone and they were destined to love you?

It must be reassuring.

Y/N didn’t remember when she drifted off, but she did and when she opened her eyes again, the sun was seeping through the light pink curtains.

Y/N lightly sighed as she sat up, running a hand through her perfect hair. That was a peek of having Aphrodite as her mother.

“Oh, you’re finally up. We thought you were sad. Too bad you aren’t.” Drew Tanaka was as cruel as ever. She was sitting at the vanity, applying a layer of pressed powder onto her face.

“Even if I did die, Drew, Silena would be the next cabin counsellor.” Y/N nonchalantly uttered as she stood up, stretching. Drew quietly scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“At least I have a soulmate.” She grumbled.

When Drew Tanaka hit hard, Y/N L/N always made sure to hit back harder.

“Yeah? Well, at least my ‘soulmate’ doesn’t hate me because of a rumour about me sleeping with his best friend. Which, by the way, was true.” Y/N quickly snapped back, leaving Drew speechless. Y/N was never one to act out but when someone asked for it, she delivered a killing blow.

Like any normal Aphrodite daughter, Y/N took her sweet time in doing her makeup. She could feel Drew’s glare on her as she swiped a red tint across her lips.

Y/N arrived at breakfast a little late, just in time to see the new kids stumble into the pavilion. Girls turned to whisper to each other, subtly pointing at the boy and blushing.

“That’s Luke and Annabeth, right?” Y/N questioned as she took a big gulp from her golden chalice. Silena quickly nodded, glancing at Luke.

“See, I told you he was cute.”

Y/N shrugged but Silena did have a point. Luke, with his perfect side profile, sharp jawline, and pretty curled hair, was a pleasant sight for sore eyes.

Y/N was caught off-guard when Luke sat down at the Hermes table and immediately lifted his head, his gaze settling on her without hesitation. Y/N quickly looked away, glancing at her wrist like she always did in hopes a tattoo would appear by some miracle.

Drew saw her moment of weakness and instantly commented on it. “Still no soulmate, Y/N?” Silena sent her half-sister a disapproving stare.

“Yeah. I’ll just fuck yours, I guess.”

Drew’s face sank for the second time. “Stay away from Sulan.” She hissed, glancing at the Demeter boy who wanted nothing to do with Drew.

Fate always drew people together so it was no surprise that everybody in Camp Half-Blood had their soulmates in the same place. There were multiple ways you could find your soulmate, depending on your mark.

Silena had her matching tattoo. Drew had that damned red string that only she could see. And Andrew could only sed the world in black and gray until his soulmate arrived, which they hadn’t yet.

Across the pavilion, Luke lightly nudged a teen named Chris. “Who’s that?” He asked, pointing at the H/C-hIred girl who was sitting with a group of unnaturally attractive kids.

Chris laughed for a short moment. “Y/N L/N. She will eat you alive, boy.”

“Has she found her soulmate yet?”

Demigods weren’t much better than their parents. They played around until they found their soulmate and that’s when they settled down. At least, for most. Some still had flings here and there, proving that they were just like the gods.

Luke’s question causes Chris to pause. He lightly chewed the inside of his mouth before stabbing his fork into a piece of bacon. “She doesn’t have a soulmate.” He murmured.

“How come?”

“We don’t know. She’s wondering the exact same question.” Chris shrugged before going back to his breakfast, “You can talk to her if you want but she’s a little mean so be careful of that.”

Luke quietly hummed, circling his finger around the rim of his cup.

The first time Luke talked to Y/N was when he and Annabeth were separated to go on different tours. Luke ended up with Y/N, who beamed at him and crinkled her eyes.

“Hi.” She effortlessly greeted him, waving.

“Sup.” Luke choked out, his voice accidentally going up a pitch higher. He cleared his throat. “I’m Luke.”

“So I’ve heard. Y/N.”

They walked side by side in a comfortable silence until Y/N spoke again. “Where’s your third person?” She questioned. “And I’m not talking about Grover.”

Chiron had tried to keep Thalia a secret but the gossip still managed to reach Y/N’s ears.

Slowly, Luke pointed at the tree that had mysteriously appeared this morning. It guarded the barrier between the camp and the mortal world.

“He turned her into a tree.” Luke grumbled, clearly displeased.

Y/N didn’t have to question who he was. Zeus, the king of the gods and ruler of the sky, had decided to turn his only daughter into a tree.

“Yes. The gods have always been a little… questionable. Shall we continue with the tour?” Y/N guided Luke forward. She did most of the talking while he listened, or at least tried to. It was hard when an absolutely stunning girl was standing in front of him.

“And last but not least, the strawberry field. Pretty, isn’t it?” Y/N smiled as she stared at the fresh strawberries. Luke let out a small ‘yeah’ but he was still staring at her. Y/N clapped her hands together, finally bringing Luke back to reality. “That marks the end of our tour. Any questions?”

Luke shook his head.

“Great. Oh, and if you’re worried about your soulmate, they’ll show up at some point. All the new kids freak out over it. If you’re a demigod, it’s almost guaranteed that so is your soulmate.” Y/N smiled again, making Luke’s knees weak.

Where was a matching tattoo when he needed one?

“So, uh… your soulmate… what are they like?” Luke knew he was most likely overstepping a boundary when he asked that. But Y/N, used to the shame and embarrassment of not having one, merely shrugged.

“I wouldn’t know. For some reason, my mother wants me to spend my life alone.” Y/N laughed but Luke could see the pain that flashed through her eyes. The same exact agony that Luke had been experiencing after all his peers found their soulmates expect him.

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t have one either.” Luke piped up. “I guess we can be lonely together.”

Y/N carefully gazed up at him. She felt a glimmer of hope spark inside her chest but she shoved it down. She refused to get her hopes up. “Everybody has one, Luke. You do too. Maybe my mom just wanted me to play the role of Cupid.”

Y/N walked off before Luke could say anything else. Annabeth instantly replaced her. “What did you say to make her leave?” For a young kid, she sure had a sharp tongue.

“Don’t even, Annabeth.” Luke’s cheeks heated up in embarrassment. He never had a problem with getting girls to like him because of his good looks, but they never stayed. And Annabeth took every chance she could to remind him of their awkward moments.

“What did you say, though? Did you mention your pet crocodile again?”

“First of all,” Luke retorted, “It was a spider. It was not a crocodile. And someone set him free! I really liked him too. And, I only asked her about her soulmate.”

“You’re an idiot.” Annabeth deadpanned, “Why would you ask that? Can’t you see that it’s a sore topic for her?”

“Not everybody is blessed with your wits, kid.” Luke playfully ruffled Annabeth’s hair while she huffed in frustration.

She quickly swatted his hands away. “What’s if she’s your soulmate?” Annabeth blurted out. “She doesn’t have a soulmate. You don’t have one. At least, you don’t have the common signs. What if that’s your soulmate bond?”

Luke chuckled. “I don’t think it works that way.”

“Maybe not… but either way, she’s still staring at you.”

Luke had never turned his head so fast. Y/N was perched on her cabin porch, leaning against the pretty wooden railing. And just as Annabeth had said, she was looking at him.

“Soulmate bond.” Annabeth repeated in that annoying singsong voice of hers.

Even as Luke walked back to the Hermes building, he couldn’t shake Annabeth’s words. Was Y/N really his soulmate? The person he had spent his entire life searching for?

Maybe. Standing next to her just felt so… right. He knew the moment he saw Y/N step out of her cabin that she’d have his unwavering attention.

Months passed by like seconds and years passed like days. Luke found himself becoming an expert at wielding a sword and not even Clarisse could disarm him. Y/N never bothered to try, always wanting to keep her appearance pristine under the hot sun.

“Do you ever get bored just lying around?” Luke questioned as he stood in front of Y/N. She was lying down under a large tree, enjoying the cool shade.

“No.” Y/N answered, closing her eyes. “I just don’t find it fun swinging around a sword in the hot sun.” The heat from the large star was unbearable during summer. Y/N hated the feeling of her clothes sticking to her skin so she was commonly found under trees during the hottest season.

“Why not try swinging around a sword at night? It’s cooler at that time.”

“I’m good.” Y/N truely was a daughter of Aphrodite, caring about her appearance above all else.

“I heard Silena found her soulmate.” Luke uttered as he sat down, keeping his distance in case Y/N didn’t appreciate his company. But she said nothing so he assumed it was fine.

“Yeah. At least he’s nice. I’d hate for her to have an annoying soulmate.” Y/N laughed yet that familiar look of envy and sadness flashed across her eyes. Y/N did well in concealing her facial expressions but her gaze never lied.

Luke and Y/N were seventeen now, almost eighteen. They had known each other for years and Luke had managed to notice some of Y/N’s subtle habits.

He also knew her opinion on soulmates. She craved for one and found the courage to despise her mother for her lack love. She prayed for one when offering a sacrifice. She dreamed of finding her other half and every time she woke up, she was disappointed that it wasn’t a reality.

Y/N knew there was more to life than relationships but why didn’t she have a soulmate? That was a query only Aphrodite herself could answer.

“Still no soulmate for you I suppose?” Y/N asked, glancing at Luke who shook his head.

“The main reason I was looking for you was because I had some sort of… theory.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, suddenly curious. She gestured for Luke to continue.

“I don’t have a soulmate mark. You don’t have one either. What if, in a way, our lack of soulmate marks is our bond? If that makes sense.” Luke almost stumbled over his own words, suddenly feeling far too nervous.

“You think… I’m your soulmate?” Those words felt foreign as they slipped past Y/N’s lips. She was staring at Luke in slightly disbelief. “I don’t know, Luke. Maybe we just don’t have soulmates.” Y/N chuckled at the end of her sentence.

Luke’s breath nervously shuddered. “Okay… so if we don’t have soulmates then I can like anybody I want?”

“Technically, yeah.” Y/N aimlessly shrugged.

“Then I chose you.”

Y/N stared at him with her eyebrows furrowed. “What? Why me?”

“Because why not? I’m not taking pity on you, Y/N. I genuinely like you. As more than just a friend. The moment I saw you, I knew that if I had a soulmate, I would want it to be you. We can take it slow if you want. I don’t care as long as I’m with you.”

Y/N could only muster up a nod, still in shock.

She didn’t know what she was expecting to happen after her indirect acceptation to his confession but finding a small bouquet of roses on her bed was not what she had in mind.

“Oh, those are pretty. Who are those from?” Silena was at Y/N’s side in an instance, curious to see the flowers.

“Luke.” Y/N muttered as she flipped over the card, staring at the messy handwriting that was undeniably Luke’s.

“So my manifestation did work!” Silena exclaimed, happily clapping her hands together. “I’ve been shipping you guys since, like, forever! And I knew you wouldn’t make a move so I manifested Luke to.” Silena proudly beamed as she rocked back in forth on her heels, “I’m so happy for you two!”

Drew, on the other hand, was not.

“Cute pity bouquet, Y/N.” The ravenette said as she waltzed into the cabin.

“I will slap you with the thorns.” Y/N fired back.

At dinner, Y/N ended up sandwiched between Silena and Drew. For two girls who seemingly hated each other, Y/N and Drew sure spent a lot of time together.

“Here comes your lover boy.” Silena teased as she watched Luke guide a new camper towards the Hermes table. Y/N wasn’t sure if she should stare or look away but Luke was already locking eyes with her, smiling so widely that you’d think his deepest wish just came true.

“He’s not your soulmate.” Drew uttered.

“I know. We don’t all have to follow the rules of soulmates, do we? You should know that better than anyone else.”

Drew scoffed, angrily stabbing her fork into a piece of meat.

Y/N didn’t eat much. Her stomach felt too queasy whenever Luke so much as glanced at her. Was she nervous? Her leg was continuously bouncing up and down so she must be.

She left the pavilion early, expecting Luke to follow after her and feeling proud of her guess when he did. “Did you like the flowers?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Of course.” Y/N answered.

“I really like you, Y/N. Please, just give me a chance. Who cares about soulmates? You may as well be mine.” Luke engulfed Y/N into a tight hug, his hands resting at her waist and refusing to let go.

“I don’t know, Luke.” She whispered. She had spent so much time alone in the dark that she forgot what love even felt like. Was it the butterflies in her stomach? Or perhaps the loud pounding of her heart? Or maybe her cheeks that were flushed a bright pink hue under the moonlight?

All her worries seemed to effortlessly melt away as Luke suddenly kissed her. He stepped back just as quickly but Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her again.

She wasn’t sure what was happening but she could feel small beads of tears roll down her cheeks.

“Why are you crying, pretty?” Luke asked, furrowing his eyebrows in concern. Y/N swiftly wiped her tears away. As stupid and it sounded, that was her first kiss. And it was the first time someone showed a genuine interest in her, someone without a soulmate.

“If we do this, Luke… you have to promise not to leave me too quickly.” Y/N whispered so that only he could hear her voice.

“I don’t want my soulmate, if they even exist, Y/N. I want you.”

Those words echoed in Y/N’s head. I want you. Those three simple words set off fireworks in Y/N’s stomach. She felt her heart skip a beat.

She really shouldn’t have indulged in her own feelings when Luke might have a soulmate of his own but she couldn’t resist him when he was looking at her with those puppy dog eyes.

After that fated night, Luke rarely left Y/N’s side. He seemed to be attached at her hip and even when Clarisse laughed at him, he ignored her. Y/N was happy for a while.

It was the new girl that caused her fragile relationship with Luke to shatter into pieces. She really should have seen all this coming. She always noticed the bruises that lingered on Luke’s skin. Bruises that weren’t his but ones he simply brushed off as small injuries from all his hard training.

Y/N was the first to walk out of her cabin and, by default, that meant she would be showing the new camper around.

She had arrived early in the morning and while she was supposed to be resting in the infirmary, Y/N found her under the tree she usually sat at.

“You should be resting.” Y/N uttered. She could only see one side of the girl’s face but nevertheless, she was still pretty. Dyed blonde hair with heavy bangs framing her delicate and pale face and light grey eyes that nervously shifted from the ground to Y/N.

“They kept pestering me about my scar.” She mumbled, refusing to show Y/N her full face. “It’s my soulmate mark but they kept saying it wasn’t. Apparently… my soulmate has already found someone.”

She finally turned her head to reveal the scar. It was a jagged line, perfectly mimicking Luke’s. Y/N stiffened as the dread began to set in. She felt like she was going to collapse. Luke always preached about choosing Y/N over fate but would he do so now that his soulmate was here?

“Right.” Y/N choked out. “Well, let me show you around first.” It took all her energy to hide her true feelings. She didn’t want this girl to know that she was slowly but surely cracking under the pressure.

“I’m Lila, by the way.” The blonde muttered, fidgeting with her fingers.

“Y/N.”

As usual, she saved the strawberry fields for last. Lila seemed impressed by the big, red berries that the Demeter kids had grown. “One last stop.” Y/N said as she led Lila to a certain cabin. She knew she would come to regret this but the matching scars weren’t exactly subtle.

Y/N knocked on the door and just as she hoped, yet dreaded, Luke answered. “Hey.” He grinned widely at her as he leaned against the door frame.

“Someone’s here for you.” Y/N stepped aside to reveal Lila. Luke paused before he chuckled.

“This is a joke, right? Y/N?”

But she was already walking, more like jogging, away.

Y/N watched from afar as Luke conversed with the girl who had the identical scar to his. It trailed over the same eye too and it wouldn’t take a genius to realize what that meant. Luke had finally met his soulmate.

And Y/N was alone. Again.

The favourite child of Aphrodite. The golden star. The beautiful role model.

She was always destined to spend her life alone and perhaps she should have fully accepted that instead of falling in love with Luke, someone she couldn’t have no matter how hard she tried.

She ended up skipping breakfast and merely sitting in front of the vanity mirror, soullessly staring at her reflection. She wanted nothing more than for an ugly scar to taint her pretty face just so she could claim Luke as her soulmate.

She traced a faint line over her eye with light brown eyebrow and imagined that it matched with Luke’s. That, in another life, she could finally call someone hers.

The cabin door opened. Y/N didn’t have enough time to wipe the eyeshadow scar off before Drew walked in. The black-haired girl made an immediate beeline for her half-sister. Y/N thought Drew was going to taunt her as usual but she was shocked when the cruel girl hugged her instead.

“Soulmate or not,” Drew whispered, “He should choose you.”

PJO TAG LIST (FULL) : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @jennapancake @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @justanotherkpopstanlol @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @crybabysbakery @jsbabyyy @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @kamiliora @jamesmackreideswife @2hiigh2cry @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @randomgurl2326 @niktwazny303 @luvvfromme @y0urm0m12 @mochi-lover26 @annispamz

3 months ago

Midori Sour pt.2 (d.f.)

Midori Sour Pt.2 (d.f.)
Midori Sour Pt.2 (d.f.)
Midori Sour Pt.2 (d.f.)

pairing: dominic fike x (photographer fem! reader)

word count: 3,347

summary: you attend your friend Omar's pool party. what happens when liquid courage and a certain curly-haired boy combine to change your perspective on LA?

warnings: (18+) explicit language, smut, smoking of maryjane, unprotected s3x (kinda?),

author's note: Let me know down below if you guys would like a part 3 with the morning after. It would be such an adorable way to end this little mini series <3

-

It seemed he was thinking of you too, because soon after blue light flooded a small part of the room from a text, an unsaved number.

It read: “Can’t sleep. Come watch tv with me?”

You all but ran to the door, hopping up and making your way across the hall with no second thoughts. You lightly knocked, peering down the empty hallway, blanketed in silence as you waited for him to answer.

Your heart caught in your throat as the door swung open, and there he was. Clad in nothing but pajama pants, towering over your heated frame, he looked like everything you needed in this moment. 

“One second..” He turns to walk back to the bed briefly, grabbing a freshly rolled joint and returning to meet you back at the door frame. “You down to come smoke this with me first?” He tilted his head slightly as he waited for your answer. You nodded, a small smile making its way onto your face.

You stepped aside, letting him lead you down the dimly lit hallway. The scent of his cologne followed behind him as you both made your way to the backyard. It looked so different out here when it was empty. Neon lights gently blanketed the large pool, pool floats drifting aimlessly, and the moon reflecting delicately in the calmness of the pool. You and Dominic walked to the edge of the water, sitting criss-crossed aside on the warm ground. The silence was a sharp contrast to the overstimulation of earlier, save from the quiet flickering of Dom’s lighter as he lit the joint. You watched closely as his pink lips parted, ghosting the smoke effortlessly. 

“So..”He took an additional hit before handing it to you gently.”How long have you been like..in LA full time?” His eyes traced your features as you took a hit, waiting eagerly for your answer.

“Almost..6 months just about.” You blew out a bustling cloud of smoke, handing the joint back.

“You feel like you’re adjusting well?” 

“Can you ever really feel adjusted to LA?” You sighed. He chuckles dryly, smoke coming with it.

“I’m with you on that. I've been here for a few years now, and shit, it still feels like sometimes I can’t ever keep up.” He shook his head, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as he titled his head back to gaze up at the blanket of scarce stars blanketing the dark sky above you. The joint was at its near end, and after taking a final hit, he looked back towards you.

“Finish it off for me hm?” He held the small remnants of the joint in the air near you, watching you closely as you leaned forward to take a generous hit, not breaking eye contact. You pulled back, coughing at the smoke filling your lungs, and you both broke out into giggles at the choked sentence you attempted to get out mid cough.

“Holy shit.” You finally began to catch your bearings.

“You good?” He leans forward, one hand reaching to grab the underside of your jaw gently.

“Yeah..” Your breath stalls at the sudden contact. “Do you…should we go inside and get snacks or something?” You mentally facepalm yourself.

Snacks? Seriously Y/N? 

“Oh uh..sure.” He hops up, offering his hand down to you, and hosting you to meet him on your feet.

You are once again trailing behind Dominic as you both make your way back inside. The kitchen is just as stunning as you remember , draped in marble countertops with a large island in the center. The pool lights crashed through the glass wall overlooking the backyard, serving as the backdrop to you and the tall boy’s silhouettes.

As he opened the fridge, you went to the candy drawer, remembering it from last time you came over.

“Y/N I’m not gonna kill you for grabbing a snack you know? Look through the drawers hunny,  I can’t even finish half the shit I buy anyway.” Omar stated.

“Yeah-sorry.” You stumbled out.

“You know, one day soon, you’re gonna come out of that shell of yours.”

“Maybe for the right amount of liquor and a miracle." You sigh.

You chuckled at the memory, settling on a pack of sour patches to sooth your munchies. You padded over lightly to the island, leaning back up against it. Dominic made his way across from you, leaning against the counter opposite you. You were too focused on opening the package to notice his gaze trained on your face.

After finally getting it open, you finally looked up at him. “Want some?” You raised an eyebrow.

“For sure.” He leans forward, opening his palm as you shake a few into his hand.

A comfortable silence fell over you both, as you briefly turned your head to look out the window. Being alone with Dominic was strangely comfortable, almost like you two already knew each other. You returned your gaze to him, surprised to find him still taking glances at you, seemingly deep in thought.

“What?” You broke the silence.

“What do you mean what?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what again?” He asks, genuine concern lacing his voice.

“Your eyes, that thing you do. I feel like you’re looking too deep into me. Like you’re gonna see something you don’t like if you stop prying.” You state dryly, peering down at your feet that have become the most interesting things in the world.

“I haven’t been able to stop looking at you all night, don’t you realize that? If there was something about you I disliked, which there isn’t, I’d know by now.” You couldn’t help the heat spreading through your cheeks, and more importantly the schoolgirl-like smile fighting its way to your face, tilting your head down to your feet in an attempt to hide it.

Your breath stalls in your throat as you see him stand up from his leaned position on the counter, walking closer and closer to you until there was nothing but a few inches between you too. You could feel the heat blazing from his skin, and you had no choice but to face him as he caged you in against the counter with his arms on either side of you. He was towering over you, bringing his face so close to you that the faint smell of mint and weed was faint.

His doe eyes were blown, and you couldn’t help yourself from utterly and completely drowning in them. A small smirk made its way to his face as he took notice of your shaky breathing, your own eyes mirroring his. 

“Dom..” You muttered weakly.

“What is it?’ He asks, feigning ignorance. “You have me out here about to kiss a girl I just met today, you realize that?” He sighs.

Please do something, anything.

You nodded, begging him silently to do it. Just as you stood on your tippy toes to hover your lips closer, he lunged forward gently to connect your lips. You had been aching for this feeling all day, and the pleasure surging through your veins was even more euphoric than you could’ve imagined. It started out gently, testing the waters as you both sank deeper. You and his hands began to make their ways to explore each other, making your kiss deeper and more intense. 

You gasped as he lifted you onto the counter, and he replaced his mouth in no time. Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer as you began to slyly grind up into him. It took everything in him to pull back from you, and you almost chased his lips as he began to speak.

“How far do you wanna go?” He pulled back from you, raising his eyebrows, rubbing circles into your hips.

“I want you to take me all the way Dominic.” You breathe out.

Holy shit this cannot be happening.

Without missing a beat, he lifts your heated frame into his arms, resuming your kiss as he walks you back to his room, closing the door behind him. He places you down gently on the bed, crawling over you between your thighs, using his arms to hold him up above you.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He says breathlessly, pupils blown out from the adrenaline pulsing through him.

“Hm you think so?” You asked shyly.

“Yeah I do.” He smiled at your coyness, diving back in to connect your lips. His warm hands made their way under his hoodie on your body, making you gasp as they came in contact with your stomach. You began to rid yourself of it, and he leaned back to help you finish, tossing somewhere in the room haphazardly. 

He kissed down your jaw, kissing and sucking lightly across your neck, tilting your chin back gently for access. A whimper broke from your lips, cutting through the silence in the room. He continued his torture down the expanse of your chest, leaning back to play with the edge of your tube top. 

He tilted his head to the side at you adorably, “Is it okay if I take this off?” 

“Mhm.” You nodded.

You pulled it over your head, the both of you now only clad in bottoms. You instinctively rush to cover your chest, and his intense gaze softens for a moment. He gently grabs both of your hands in his hand, removing them from your chest to push your hands above your head. He dips his head down, peppering kisses all over your chest. 

“So so pretty.” He says between kisses. His mouth trails over to your nipples, eyes locking with yours as he wraps a mouth around your nipple. A whine rips through your throat, echoing a little too loud. He pulls back, whispering near your ear while nipping at it.

“I need you to be quiet for me babydoll. You think you can do that for me?” His voice sends a lightning strike of pleasure down through you and to your core. His eye contact found its way back to you, the depth of his stare drowning you. With the way he looked at you, he could convince you to do anything.

You nodded, eyes glazing over.

“Good girl.” He nods back at you, humming in approval. “Lift up your hips for me.” He slid your underwear and pajamas off of you gently.

A chill ran through you as you realized you were completely and utterly bare to him, and he had the same realization. His eyes raked over your frame, mouth slightly agape as he took you in fully.

“Jesus christ you are perfect.” He rasped out, heat flushing your features at the compliment.

“Dom..” You cover your eyes with your hand, turning away from him as a smile breaks out on your face. 

He silently slid down the bed, finding a place between your thighs as he hiked your leg up onto his shoulder. Your breath began to become unstable, your brain unable to catch up to your body. You felt his soft lips gently kiss the inside of your thighs, and he leaned his face onto your thigh.

“Hey…look at me baby. Please?” You couldn’t resist the sickeningly sweet rasp of his voice, and peeled your arm away from your face to look down at him. His puppy eyes were impossible, brown and deep, silently begging you to fully give yourself to him.

You watched as he hovered over where you needed him most, finally connecting his mouth to your core. You threw your head back at the contact, the weed and buildup from today combining to make you more sensitive than you’ve ever been in your life. Your breath stalls, and you grip onto him for dear life, suppressing the moan that threatens to spill as he works you over with his tongue. 

He begins to slide a finger into your entrance slowly, gripping onto your hip to keep you still as your hips jolt at each brush of your g-spot. Your hips grind up into him, small whimpers and heavy breaths racking your chest. He hums in appreciation, selfishly relishing in how hard you were fighting to stay quiet. The plateau you had been on was now turning into an incline, and you felt yourself becoming closer and closer to tumbling over the edge. Your legs shook uncontrollably, stiffening as your hands searched wildly for something, anything to bite down on.

You settled on a throw pillow, bringing it to your mouth as you sunk your teeth into it. Your eyes rolled as a sob racked your chest into the pillow as your orgasm suddenly washed over you. Dominic watched uninterrupted as your back arched, and you gave into him shamelessly, convulsing underneath him with your hand laced in his near your hip.

He let you ride it out before pulling back as you whined at the sensitivity, wiping his mouth of you and bringing himself back above you.

“Hey..” He cupped your face gently, trying to coax your eyes back to him. “Are you okay?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, still finding your breath. “Holy shit.”

He chuckles at your dramatics, leaning down to kiss your forehead. When you finally open your eyes, the fire behind them is burning bright, pupils blown from your recent rush. 

You peer down between you both, noticing the tent in his pants that’s poking lightly against your thigh. He follows the path down to where you’re looking,  taking in the way your mouth was slightly agape. 

“Hey.” He calls your attention back to him, rubbing his thumb gently at your cheekbone. “Are you okay if I-”

“Yeah!” You clear your throat. “Sorry. Yeah. That’s fine.”

He flashes you a look of gentleness, moving back from you to rid himself of his pajama pants. He groans at the relief, his manhood stiff and taunts against his stomach, precum glinting in the lights of the room. You can’t help when your eyes widen at the sight. He climbs back over you, pulling the comforter over you both up to his hips.

“Dom..I don’t…I don’t think that’s gonna fit.” You weren’t a virgin, but the sheer size of him compared to what you were prepared for was making your mind race. His eyebrows raise, as he smiles down at you. 

“I’m flattered that you think I’m well endowed. But I promise you, it will. Trust me.” Sincerity danced around the rings of his irises, leaving you no choice but to believe him. You nod slowly, releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Are you on birth control baby?” He continues. You nod again. He kisses your nose. “Good.”

He finally settles between your legs, beginning to rub his tip between your dripping folds, making both you and him gasp. “Holy shit baby you are soaked.” He groans, squeezing his eyes together to find his bearings. He pauses for a moment, massaging your hip bone as he begins to speak again.

“You are beautiful, you know that?” He looks down your frame, taking in you again once again, relishing in the compromising position you both found yourself in. “I need you to let me know if it's ever too uncomfortable, I will stop anytime. I mean it. Can you do that for me?” 

“Mhm.” You nod, unconsciously grinding your hips up into his in impatience.

“Ok. Ok. I get it.” His breath stalls at the contact, turning his attention back to between your legs. He finally begins to push the head in, both of you gasping again. “Hey. Breathe.” He nodded down at you, taking in your still chest. You attempted to oblige, short, harsh breaths leaving your nose in an attempt to relax yourself. Your eyes rolled as he worked into you inch by inch, the slick walls of you welcoming him in effortlessly. Your hips jump as he finally presses fully into you, brushing your g-spot and making him near whine as you fully sheathed him.

“There we go. Atta girl.” He praised raspily, delighting in how your legs began to wrap around him and your eyes found him in a sultry and desperate spell. When you fully adjusted as he moved slowly, a tame moan broke through the barrier of your lungs, and he ducked near your ear once again. “Shh baby, you gotta be quiet for me remember?”

“Dom I’m trying- it’s so hard.” You whimper pathetically, sounding almost on the verge of tears as you wrapped your arms around his toned back. 

“I know baby I know.” He tuts in mock sympathy, picking up his pace slightly and pressing deeper into you with every thrust. “You can do it though, I know you can.” You threw your head back, clenching down onto him, your hips jolting as he prodded at the one spot you needed him over and over. 

Your hands dug into him harshly, sure to leave some marks in the morning. Your best efforts to conceal your noise were no match for the torturous pleasure washing over you, coursing through your veins. The boy between your legs seemed almost hellbent on making you wanna scream. A guttural moan flies from your lips, and his hand flies up to catch in its path, cupping your mouth.

His eyes lock onto yours, watching as they roll, just as his hips rolled fervently between your own. Your legs began to shake around him, cueing him into your impending release. Another breathless moan is muffled against his palm as he reaches his free hand between you both, using the wetness there to circle your sensitive bud.

“You gonna be a good girl and give me another?” He watches as your wet eyes fight to look back at him, groaning as you begin to clench down on him relentlessly. Before you both knew it you were flying over the edge for the second time, holding onto the man for dear life as silent sobs wracked through your whole body. “There you go. Give it to me.” He rasps, biting down on your shoulder lightly when his own release begins to creep up.

As your orgasm begins to wane in intensity, his own finally approaches, both of you a desperate mess as you hold onto each other like your lives depend on it. You feel him fill you up with one final pump. You would have to grapple in the morning with the fact that you had sex with a man on the first day of knowing him, and welcomed his eager release into you so willingly. However, said man was Dominic Fike, so any residual regret would be very limited, if at all.

He gently pulls out, the emptiness a sharp contrast to the depths of you he has just reached. His mop of curls was flush against your chest as he laid his head down on you. You both laid wrapped in the comforter and the warmth of one another, letting your breaths catch up with you. Your nails scratched his scalp lightly, curls slightly damp, and a hand ran down his overly warm back. Your eyes were barely open, but you peered down at him , noticing his fluttering closed.

“Y/N” He grumbles lightly, almost startling you.

“Hm?”

“Can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow?” 

A tired smile breaks out on your face. “Do you want to?”

“I do.” He shuffles closer to you, burying his face in your neck. “Don't want you to think this is all I wanted you know? You are amazing, from what I can tell. Wanna keep talking to you.” You feel him smile into your neck, pecking a light kiss after.

“I’d like that.”

“Also want you to keep making me midori sours if that's okay.” He says, wrapping himself impossibly closer as if being in your skin wouldn’t even suffice.

“Mm. I can do that.” You sigh comfortably.

You both fell asleep, limps wrapped up haphazardly around one another. The serenity of the night blanketed you both, both of you blissfully unaware of the chaos that Dominic’s story had caused.

While you drifted deeper, a blue notification lit up the entire room:

“Instagram: 1000+ notifications”

-

TO BE CONTINUED: I have made the executive decision to make a finale: part 3! It will be very fluffy and a bit comical, I look forward to wrapping this up in a really sweet way. Thank you all, enjoy!

TAKE YOUR PICK.

wednesday addams x fem!vampire!reader

summary: a werewolf attack leaves you in need of aid, though you find yourself aided in more than just your wounds.

warnings: smut (18+) — slight oral (r receiving), fingering, strap-on referred to as “cock” at one point, slight face-slapping, teasing, dirty talk, virgin!r, withheld orgasm. -> mentions of blood, wounds, werewolf attack, medical equipment, mentions of kidnapping, scarring, and dom!w + sub!r.

word amount: 6900+

a/n: yes you read that right, 6900+ words. i guess i beat you, didn’t i, my ⭐️ anon 😉.

TAKE YOUR PICK.
TAKE YOUR PICK.

“Our successor greets us with torture by this grouping.” Her words were dull, and as you turned to face her, you were met with her eyes boring into yours. You cocked your head to the side, easily bypassing a tree that would’ve hit anyone else. Your instincts were stressed by your venture into the woods with the murderous woman you labeled your enemy accompanying you.

Your skin itched. Badly. Though you would rather burn in the flames she created than take action for relief, you never dared to let the shorter girl win at her former pleas to have her partner switch, labeling it as having to not deal with your pollen allergy, but everyone knew of your rivalry.

It was no secret after all. You couldn’t count the number of times she tried to assist in your early death, ranging from simple pop-up attacks that your raging instincts guided you with to kidnapping you into the Nightshades library and torturing you—or more so, trying her best to—while reading latin incantations from a book that still scarred your mind to this day.

“You don’t have to tell me.” With your head shifted into it’s former state, staring straight ahead, you expected Wednesday to mirror your action. She hadn’t.

Your eyes darted all around the forest, searching for insects, animals, humans, or anything of the above that would pose a potential life-threat. Unlike Wednesday, you allowed yourself to feel fear because you actually cared for your life.  

You and Wednesday were similar, which was the root of your rivalry. She eyed you as a copycat, but you had always been who you were since the day you were born, and nobody could ever change you. You thrived in academics and sports, taking part in three education-related after school clubs as well as fencing, track, and a modernized human sport known as “soccer” to Americans during the summer.

You easily got more praise for your contribution to the school’s image, while Wednesday held the slimy silver medal praising her for being in second place, and her mind raged at the remembrance of it every time. She wanted to be number one above all else, but she could never bypass you. Hell, you even bypassed Bianca Barclay, forming a small rivalry with her when you first arrived at the academy.

“Would you like me to send you a photographed Polaroid of myself with my signature on it, or shall you continue to stare at me and soon trip over a rock?” Wednesday’s eyes furrowed at the end of the sentence, unable to hold back a yelp when she inevitably did fall over a grounded rock and faceplant on the floor.

You halted your movement, turning your head to the side to catch a glimpse of Wednesday rolling herself on her back, a hand over her knee from a wound forming due to her ignorant choice to wear shorts. “We have thirty minutes remaining to collect all we need for our botanical project. I’d suggest you get off the floor.” 

Before she could even comprehend what you said, she found herself looking up into your eyes as you towered over her. Once more, you cocked your head to the side, allowing a sly grin to form on your face at the sight of blood dousing her hand from the open wound. “And you tell me I’m the clumsy one?”

“You are.” She shot back immediately, her eyes narrowing at your facial expression of humor. You found humor in her; you always have. It was a key part of your romantic attraction to her, though that aspect had always been locked away as a secret, and your humor lied in her inability to keep up with you.

Whether Wednesday wanted to admit it or not, she had found her challenger. Someone who was undeniably better than her, someone who forced her to work harder to be the one at the top, though she knew secretly she’d always be trapped in second place.

You were better than her, and it annoyed her more than anything in the world. That’s why the discovery of her own attraction toward you scared her—the girl who dared not feel emotion. She blamed it on your well-behaved confidence and that stupid grin you flashed her from day to day. 

A grin she wanted to kiss off, she thought once, and she contemplated throwing herself off the balcony in her dorm room when she allowed that sentence to linger in her mind.

You laughed genuinely, your grin growing wider at the sight of Wednesday stumbling to get up, her face crinkling only so slightly at the pain that coursed through the entirety of her leg.

“You’re unfit.” A huff came from her, head flicking up to meet your gaze, eyes lingering on your standstill grin—your pink-lipped mouth—for a second deemed too long before she lunged forward and pushed you aside.

The force of her thrust caused you to stumble back and fall on a pile of leaves, blowing and coughing out a crisp leaf that found it’s home inside your mouth. At the force of her thrust toward you, Wednesday found herself collapsed once more on the floor, her body not correctly stabilized from her injury.

“So, not only are you clumsy, but you’re also an idiot.” You sat yourself upright, hands laid down on the floor behind your body to stabilize yourself, all the while watching the conflict in Wednesday’s eyes over whether she should shoot back or keep quiet.

She kept quiet, eliciting a small, almost unnoticeable groan that Wednesday herself didn’t catch at first. You heard it, though, your grin finding it’s way back onto your face as you practically jumped up, brushing yourself off with a flick of your wrists to your neutral- colored clothing.

You furrowed your eyebrows to see Wednesday still sprawled on the floor, expecting her to have risen up by now, even if a limp tagged along. “The big, challenging girl who fought off the reincarnation of Joseph Crackstone years ago can’t get up because of a wound on her knee.”

You spoke in disbelief, and Wednesday turned her head over to you with might. “Don’t you ever mock my accomplishments.”

“Well, we can’t even accomplish the task of finishing our botanical sciences project if you don’t take your small ass up and off the floor.” You bit back.

Fumed with rage and annoyance due to her growing short temper, Wednesday lunged up at you with all the strength she had in her body. The next second, you found your hands wrapped around her waist as you held her upright from falling again, the girl collapsing into your embrace with a snake-like hiss emitting from her.

Another groan came from her, not even bothering to hide it this time, too preoccupied with the futile stinging of her wound and the warming position she found herself in with you. “Alright, back on the floor.”

Her back met the homing place that was the floor once more, shooting daggers at your inexistent attempt to lay her down carefully, seeing as you dropped her onto the floor without care. Her hand found it’s way back to her knee, coating the skin in blood once more, and you sighed. “Move your hand.”

“No.”

“Since when did you become so stubborn?” She raised her eyebrows at you. “Actually, that’s a dumb question, but I’m not going to ask you again. Addams,” your tone became firm, seriousness rising up amidst your former face of humor, “move your hand.”

Her teeth clenched, jawline protruding out, and her eyes were in their usual wide state, as if she were thinking, but her mind was blank. You found impatience creeping up on you, not daring to alert your eyes to her dark red, bloodied hand from her gushing wound.

With a twitch of your eye, your hand shot forward and clamped on Wednesday’s wrist, pulling it away from her wound with force, and she let out a small whimper that she immediately tried to cover with a cough. Your eyes darted up at her for only a second, having heard it, before looking back down at her wound, which was open and wide.

“I will take you to the Infirmary, and then come back and collect all we need for our project.” You said your plan out loud, your eyes darting back and forth between Wednesday’s open wound and the pathway from which you and the girl had just come. “I am fine. Besides, you would only get all the wrong things we need, seeing as how foolish you are.”

“Foolish is what you claim me to be, yet you’re the one consistently in second place.” Without warning, you sank an arm under her bent knees and another under her back, picking her up in bridal style, to which her eyes drastically widened. You felt her tense under you, muscles contracting, and you groaned. 

“Oh, relax. Being tense will only cause your wound to bleed more, and before I know it, I’ll be carrying your dead weight.”

“Put me down this instant.” Wednesday fought, trying to wiggle herself out of your grasp as you started to walk back to the school grounds, leaving your grip on her to tighten. “No. And don’t presume that I care about your wellbeing either, because I don’t.”

She huffed, her leg jerking up when a low branch made contact with her wound. “Then why not allow me to continue with you?”

“If you haven’t noticed, we’re past the forest barriers that Nevermore set.” When she turned her head in response to your signal to the right, she noticed the wooden line fences that were more intended to serve as a signal for students to turn around than as a means of keeping them out.

“Throats get slit in this neck of the woods,” you continued, mindlessly drifting your eyes all over the forest in caution of any inhumane species. “I’d rather not have a Jason Voorhees copycat lunatic trying to slaughter us, and I can’t go far because you’re disabled.”

“It’d be your own death’s fault for trying to save me.” Her deadpanning words made you want to drop her and let her find her own way back to the academy, but you just let out an annoyed breath while gripping onto her thighs tighter. “Forgive me for actually having a beating heart, Addams.”

“You’re not forgiven, (Y/L/N).”

Soon enough, you found yourself back in the forest, with Wednesday’s presence long gone. You were kneeling down, collecting dirt into a small jar that you had sprayed with pesticides to clear it of any lingering bugs. You hadn’t noticed how the time flew past, the sun fading into the moon, and you took a moment to enjoy the stars, hands settled on your dirt-covered knees.

A sound rang through the forested area, causing you to snap your head in the direction of the noise. It was muffled, but it sounded too closely like the howls of the werewolves you’ve grown to make friends with, and that was enough for you to shoot up instantly from your kneeling position. With a sharp breath, you looked up at the moon, now taking on the shape of a full moon, and you gagged in growing fear.

You’re fine, right? They get locked in the Lupen cages; there’s no way one of them could’ve escaped theirs. Your mind raced for explanations as you crouched down to pick up all that you'd collected, ranging from dirt to plants, before taking steady steps in the direction of the academy.

You took precautionary halts so as not to make major noise, cringing in fear at the sound of a leaf loudly crunching under your foot, and you could hear the howls once more, closer this time. 

You took another five steps before you could hear the thudding stomps of a figure inching closer to you with every second, and you thanked nothing else but your heightened senses as you dropped all of what you held and booked it. 

You dodged tree logs and branches left and right, hands fumbling with your satchel to tear it off your body to release the weight it was holding, and your body shook at the thudding sounds ringing in your ears, inching closer and closer-

Until you woke up, spread out on the floor, and your hands dug around the surface of the floor to help you realize that you were still in the woods. Your body still shook, this time more violently as you gasped in pain, stings shooting all over your body and causing your muscles to tighten.

“Fuck!” You groaned out, clenching your stomach where it hurt the most to feel a liquid coating your skin of the same texture that dripped your hands with Wednesday’s blood hours earlier. Your eyes drooped, sullenly coming to the firm realization that you were bleeding out with a liquid you could not even view properly, the night still too dark.

You blamed it all on a werewolf not properly being contained, but if that was the case, why didn’t they kill you instead of merely injuring you? The thought of the beast not being a werewolf flooded out of your mind quicker than it came in. You could see the outline of large claw slits scarring the skin of your stomach, and you yelled out the most mind-scarring shriek as you forced yourself up.

You moaned out, “Oh,” in pain as you sat yourself on a log, scanning the dark forest for any signs of life, human or not, to which there were none, and you sighed in relief. You took off your jacket first before peeling the shredded, blood-stained white shirt off your body, leaving you with just your bra and an exposed, large wound.

Your eyes closed in despair, feeling the pain dull ever so slightly in your relaxing state. You bent over, to your body’s anguish, to grab your bag with a small first aid kit tucked into it. All the items within the mini-kit were dunked out on the log space beside you, and you hurriedly grabbed multiple anti-septic wipes and shredded open the packaging before pressing them onto your skin.

Fangs bared, eyes darkening at the severe pain, you dug them into your bottom lip and swished the wipes over your wounds before letting out a loud yell of agony. You threw the wipes to the floor when they were all left coated with a dark red, grabbing the bandage roll, and with all of your muscles tightening at the pressure, wrapping your stomach with the bandage that immediately turned red before sealing it with tape.

The aftermath was almost pleasurable; the pain was still there but lessened due to the lack of blood flowing out of you. Managing to stumble up, you discarded your bag on the floor before taking a step forward, your body hunching over immediately from the inability to stand upright, and you carried on in the form of a hunchback.

What Wednesday least expected on an early Saturday morning, 3:30 a.m. to be exact, was the sound of her doorknob snapping off from the door itself. Her eyes perked up, sensing danger, and she immediately dug under her pillow to grab the knife she stored there, pointing it forward with the sharp tip ready to plunge itself into whoever dared to intrude into her and Enid’s dorm.

She had only been released from the hospital a few hours prior, so it seemed as though her knee pain had subsided, but when she put her foot on the ground, it suddenly returned. She ignored the discomfort and advanced toward the opening door, ready to strike.

“Wed-” You threw the door open, stopping immediately when the tip of her knife bore into your throat, one step away from slicing into your carotid artery. Even in the harsh darkness, Wednesday could see the fear and agony in your eyes, the way you were breathing heavily and clutching your stomach, and the skin that your bloodied jacket had now covered.

In the dim light of her bedside lamp, she could see your black jacket with a huge damp spot covering it, clamped over by bloodied hands. Her eyes met yours, and you gulped. “I didn’t know who else to come to.”

Wordlessly, she stepped to the side, inviting you in, which you limped into, and she closed the door. Her hand met your shoulder, an odd warmth coating your body despite her cold figure, and she aided you to the bathroom, choosing to disregard the blood trail you were leaving behind.

A sigh left your mouth as you collapsed on the closed-lidded toilet, leaning all your weight on the material. Wednesday pulled out a medical kit from under the sink, one much bigger than the one you had previously used, and slammed it on the countertop. “So much for not trying to wake up Enid.”

“Do you want me to help you or not? Beside, if you even took a second glance around the room, you’d notice Enid is not here, but in a Lupen cage in form.” She spoke in hushed whispers, and you shut up immediately, shrinking under her gaze. You were better than her, yes, but that didn’t mean you didn’t get scared of her from time to time.

“Take off your jacket.” She said simply, still prepping rounds of wipes with anti-septic liquids on them for your bloodied wound, as the wipes you used earlier did not have much of an effect considering the size of them. Wearily, you zipped down your jacket, peeling it off of you with a grunt or two before throwing it away at the base of the bathtub. You laid yourself back, eyes burning into the side of Wednesday’s face, anticipating her moves.

After she had finished prepping the wipes, she grabbed a sewing kit from under the counter, and you gulped at the largely-sized needles that she pulled out along with them. “All I really needed was for you to clean it, Addams. I’m a vampire; I can self-heal.”

“This is merely a precautionary measure to not leave putrid-looking scars.” She placed the items needed beside you, removing her own jacket, and you noticed how she was still in what she considered “casualwear”, seemingly not changing out of her clothes before drifting off to sleep. “Odd coming from the person who has left me with multiple scars, and why didn’t you change?”

“What?”

Wednesday turned, giving you a full visual of her in a button-up shirt and vest, black slacks tucked in and still belted; sleeping couldn’t have been comfortable for her with a belt digging into her hip. “You’re still in your clothes.” You pointed it out, and she looked down at her choice of fashion before letting out a small huff and advancing toward you, taking up position to the right of you.

“I awaited your presence. I told you before that I wanted to get a start on the project so I would not have to do much with class dealing with you and your miserable antics of getting items confused. Not only do you show up empty-handed in the dead of night, but you are also scarred through your inability to defend yourself.”

She badmouthed you, all the while untangling her sewing needles with harsh movements, but you only focused on one aspect of her words. “You fell asleep waiting for me?”

At once, Wednesday halted her movements, giving you a dead look before turning around and grabbing the large anti-septic wipes, swiftly pushing them into your wounded stomach. You let out a long, loud gasp, groaning at the pain and taking hold of Wednesday’s wrist, trying to push her arm back but to no avail. “Don’t get cocky.”

Your head flew back in agony, your hand still clasped around her wrist with a bruising grip. “I wasn’t! I was asking!”

Wednesday glided the wipes along your scars, to your dismay, until there were little to no signs of blood yet, all the while mindlessly running her eyes over the scars on your body that she created.

It was the only way she could get her mind off your exposed torso and how your muscles gallantly flexed from the pain, unwillingly showing themselves off to her.

Your eyes were squinting, still a bit sore from the antiseptics, but when you noticed that Wednesday had not made any other moves, you let them go from your iron grip. Your gaze landed on her stance, lost in thought. “What?”

"I'm in the process of comprehending an attempt to stitch you together while you remain seated, while I, on the other hand, am standing." Her eyes glanced all around the bathroom, sighing contently as she tried to determine a possible way to play surgeon in a comfortable manner.

“Well, I’m not lying on the floor. Your bed?” You inquired, and Wednesday shook her head, her mind discarded by that thought. “I would like to go to sleep tonight in a bloodless bed.”

“Um,” you gulped. The first real situation droning through your head was one anybody wouldn’t dare share with Wednesday. It's a good thing you weren’t like anybody else. “Sit on me.”

Her head snapped to meet your eyes, yours innocently boring into hers, and she squinted. “What?”

“Sit on my lap. When I lean back, you’ll be able to stitch me up or... whatever it is that you plan on doing without breaking your spine.”

You could see the conflict in her eyes, and she took it into consideration, to your surprise. With a pinch to the bridge of her nose and a long, elated sigh, as a means of balance, she placed her hands on each of your shoulders before swinging her left leg over your body and sitting down on your firmly closed legs. 

“Tell nobody about this, or more of these scars,” she said, pinching down on a drawn out scar that sat just right under your bra, “will litter your skin.” You gave her a hasty nod, eager to put your mind elsewhere while your sworn enemy found a seat on your lap.

Without a word of warning, she dug the needle into your skin, causing you to let out an embarrassingly loud yelp of pain. Your hands flew to her shoulders as a matter of instinct, and you half-expected her to shrug them off, but she prioritized her sewing techniques instead.

The further she got into sewing the deep claw marks, the tighter your hands gripped her shoulders. You’d be surprised if Wednesday woke up bruise-free, as you could almost feel your knuckles turning white.

Wednesday found... amusement? The way your eyes closed at her stinging touch, the way your hands buried themselves into her shoulders, and how your thigh muscles tightened under her ass with every swift movement. She loved seeing you defenseless and submissive to her more than anything, finding profit in the means of mocking you later on if you tried to boast about your betterness.

When she had finally finished her stitching, she found herself still lingering on your lap, her movements awfully slow, even for her, to grab a couple large medical bandages and place them over her work. 

“Stay here.” Her voice was low while she slid off your lap, turning to leave the bathroom before returning a minute later with a baggy jacket in her hands. Your eyebrows furrowed as she laid the fabric on your lap, turning to wash her hands of any remaining blood.

You had a little trouble donning the jacket, which was made of Wednesday's fashion choice's baggy material but looked a little more fitted on you because of your lean frame. Your wounds, formerly the only thing clouding your mind, were long gone. You focused on the seriousness of your enemy’s actions, and the oddly warm jacket filled with her natural scent that was now clinging to your body.

“Why?”

“What?”

“When I came here, I fully expected you to push me away.” You leaned your body up on the toilet, hands running through your disheveled hair, and Wednesday directed her attention toward you. “But you didn’t, for some odd reason, and actually helped me—hell, you even sat on me—when you’ve been nothing but the cause of my terror ever since I’ve arrived at this academy.”

It was all nothing but the truth. Two years have passed since you made your flaunting arrival at Nevermore, head held high with nothing else on your mind other than the determination to be the best student the academy had ever seen, and so you accomplished it. Two years had passed since you crossed paths with the deadly Wednesday Addams, her mind still fresh from her praiseful battle with the former overtaker of Jericho.

Two years passed since you beat Wednesday’s boat in the Poe Cup; the Black Cats determined to win their second trophy in a row, and she swore you as her enemy that day when her eyes laid upon your smirking frame with the golden cup in your hand, sending her a wink of confidence that she mentally fumed at.

Two years had passed since Wednesday Addams made the dreadful discovery that, after all, her black, unbeating heart could feel love but that her taste was awful if she found herself attracted to her enemy. Now she found herself in the middle of her last year at Nevermore, freshly 19, and still rummaging in a cat-dog chase game with you.

Two years had passed since she found herself focused on nothing but her enemy, who was in front of her now, sitting on the toilet seat in her bathroom, all patched up, and looking at her with curiosity. “Are you going to continue to stare at me or answer my question?”

“I’m not required to reply to any of your inquiries.” Swiftly, she made her exit out of the bathroom, leaving you to stumble up on your feet and follow behind her like a lost pup. Your body felt awfully tired, though your mind was wide awake and racing with multiple thoughts at once, overloading and ready to explode any second.

“Add-”

“I’ve patched you up,” She moved to close the door to her closet, and in a rut of refusal to make eye contact with you, solemnly afraid that she’d instantly jump your bones- what? “So you may leave now.”

“I’m not leaving until you’ll answer my ‘inquiry’ on why you were nice, at least in my books, to me. You’re avoiding the question.”

You could see the clench in Wednesday’s jaw as she made her way over to her desk, tidying up the workplace in an attempt to distract herself from the conversation that lingered. “I’m unsure as to what you’re saying.”

“Addams-”

“Leave before I do something I’ll regret, (Y/L/N).” She snapped, finally meeting your gaze with wide eyes, and you furrowed your eyebrows. “Since when have you ever regretted something that included me? Did you not tie me to a tree on a full moon and bait me to the werewolves last year?”

Her eyes closed in annoyance. “That’s not what I mean.” And as she rubbed her face, you could almost feel the mixture of stress and uncertainty in her stance, almost as if she were holding back from something.

“Then what do you mean? I’ve known you for two years, and you’ve never failed to reply to me with a full sentence, whether it’s answering my question or barking out a snarky remark. Tell me what’s changed in tha-”

Your eyes were opening and closing rapidly in stress, causing you to not register Wednesday’s frame hurriedly marking toward you until you felt a body collapse into you and a smooth substance on your lips.

Huh?!

Your eyes shot open and wide. To confirm your suspicions, Wednesday’s arms were thrown over your shoulder while her body leaned into yours, and her lips smashed against yours almost desperately.

That’s what she presumed to regret. 

But it was something you longed for, unbeknownst to her, and you made it known when your hands found their way to her cheeks, pulling her in deeper. You could feel her lips tremble slightly in shock, unprepared for you to be pulling her closer instead of pushing her away.

Wednesday’s legs grew a mind of their own, taking steps forward and causing you to step back until the backs of your knees met her bed, and she tore her lips away from you for a breather. You took the separation as an opportunity to sit yourself down on her bed, all while your eyes never left hers in the process, and the smaller girl hurriedly found her former position on your lap.

“The moon is fading. Enid could come back any minute now.” You spoke between kisses, shivering at Wednesday’s cold touch on your warm skin, her hands slithering underneath the jacket you wore to rub up and down your back. “Then she’ll leave again, because she’s not going to enjoy what she’ll see.”

Your body visibly shivered at her words, or maybe it was just her fingers dancing along your spine, but either way, you found yourself completely engulfed in her and just her. The claw marks, the time, the physical confession—all of it was gone from your mind as Wednesday mindlessly pushed herself even farther into you.

She took a push too close, her body pressing up against your wound, causing you to groan and bite down on her bottom lip, fangs bared from the pain. Your lips never separated, instead pushing farther into them at the feeling and taste of Wednesday’s blood filling your mouths from her punctures, only spurring the two of you further.

“Lay down.” You obeyed immediately, finding nothing more hot in the moment than the husk in the smaller girl's voice, and manuevered from under her plushy thighs on top of you to lay comfortably on her bed. You were engulfed in her natural scent once more—the same scent you had grown accustomed to for over two years now, the scent that followed you everywhere you went.

You adored it, just as you adored her behind your hardening gaze most days.

Her eyes were narrowed, and you would have thought she was tired any other day, but you knew her look was one of need and want. Lust, to put it short, and you wanted nothing more than to fulfill her need, even if it meant submitting yourself to her in a situation you'd never thought you’d willingly put yourself in.

Just as she had earlier, she slid off your lap with a lingering touch on your hips. “Stay here.” 

And as quickly as she left, she returned, though this time with an item in her hand, and you knew exactly what it was. Your eyes widened, and your mouth drew open. Already?

“Yes, already.” Did you say that out loud? “You’d find me pathetic if you knew how long I have deferred using this. To use it on you.” Her eyes were filled with a dark, unmanageable lust that swam through her veins, and you could only imagine the scenarios that swarmed through your head. This wasn’t the Wednesday you knew, but it was one you anticipated figuring out.

“But I can’t just use this on you immediately, no.” A smug grin came across her lips—a sight that you, or really anybody else, rarely ever saw, and it was one you wanted to see more of. “No, I have to prep you, don’t I?”

“Prep me?” You asked, genuine curiosity lacing your voice, and her grin grew wider. “I’ll show you.”

Wednesday positioned herself back on your lap, putting the erotic object on her nightstand, within reach for later use, before pulling you into another kiss. It was bruising, and the kiss was ten times more harsh than before, but you would never complain about her being pressed up against you.

While you found yourself entrapped in her lips, her hands slithered down your body and toward your pants, grabbing the buckle of your belt and undoing it at a steady pace. That’s when it dawned on you—she was going to prep you for an object that withheld some... girth.

Your muscles tensed at the thought, and more so at the feeling of Wednesday pulling down your black jeans with ease, discarding your shoes in the process of leaving your bottom half in just your underwear. “Wednesday…”

She was simple. “Relax.” 

On the down low, she knew that this was your first time engaging with somebody sexually, never failing to notice your soft rejections of the girls and guys that tried to woo you on and failed miserably. It was an aspect she enjoyed even more now, and she wanted nothing more than to rub in the faces of all you rejected that they couldn’t get you to agree to a date, but yet she had you writhing underneath her, moaning her name.

Your breathing grew heavier as the seconds went by, hitching when Wednesday moved your underwear to the side with a slow itch of her hands, and you wanted nothing more than to grab her by the head and bury her in your heat. The lack of restraint you were feeling was lethal and ultimately surprising for a girl who rarely ever even masturbated.

“Such a possessing view.” She murmured in a low tone, her eyes dancing all around your core, and your cheeks flushed at her staring. Her eyes locked with yours, her mind racing at the sight of your eyes narrowed and staring down at her with silent pleads, and those pleads she fulfilled when her tongue darted out to take a swipe at your folds.

You whimpered in a tone around an octave higher than your usual voice, and your eyes widened at the sound that unwillingly left your mouth. It seemed to spur Wednesday on, allowing her to dart her tongue out once more and flick it over your clit, the nub that she wanted nothing more than to swell up with her mouth.

You let out another whimper—louder and needier this time around. “And sensitive. I can put that to use.” She dove her head farther into your heat, her lips wrapping around your clit and taking a harsh suck at the nub. Your thighs shut around her head, eyes never leaving one another, while she feverishly sucked your clit, needing to hear more of the high-pitched whines that left your mouth.

She pulled away soon after, to your dismay that you showed through your pleading whines, to allow a bead of spit to drip out of her mouth and onto your entrance, before taking her finger and rubbing her spit around the area. Your hips instinctively bucked up at the sensation, feeling yourself clench around nothing, and it made Wednesday want to elicit a laugh.

“The way I’m touching you now is a major privilege alone.” Her finger sank into your entrance, and she bit down lightly at the plushness of your thighs when she felt your velvety walls tighten around her. “I adore watching you like this underneath me; you make me want to fuck you braindead.”

She sank her finger into you until her knuckle bared against your heat, curling the bony stature inside of you and eliciting a light moan out of you. You already found yourself on edge from her husky words alone, and the curl of her finger inside of you didn’t help you from almost cumming embarrassingly fast.

“Already close? What a shame; I wanted to have fun toying with you.” Her mouth against her core made you moan from the vibrations, hands flying to grip her head menacingly and push her farther into you, almost crying out for the whole hall to hear when she slipped a second finger into you.

Her fingers picked up pace, thrusting in and out of you with force while the squelching sounds of your slick covering your walls made Wednesday feel a pit of need start to boil in her stomach, one that she desired to fulfill.

The two-on-two action on your core made you clench impossibly tight on Wednesday’s fingers, the ravenhead finding difficulty in her repeated movements. “Want to cum, yeah?”

You nodded profusely, your face growing red from your need for release and the way she released her lips from your clit with a pop. A small grin formed on her face when she pulled out of you, relishing in your whines of despair.

Eyes closed, heavy breathing—you were too blissed out, despite not achieving an orgasm from her underlying teasing, to notice Wednesday sliding off you, strapping the former item in her hand to her core. Her eyes never left your face as she strapped the item on, feeling more than fired up to make you scratch down her back with pitiful whines leaving your mouth.

And so, that’s what she achieved, eyes closing from the burning pains of your nails digging deep into her shoulders down to the middle of her back. Her own mind felt foggy watching the way her silicone became drenched in your arousal, the strap pumping in and out of you with ease, and the way you moaned straight into her ear—god, she regretted never taking your submissive state for profit more early.

Your thighs clenched around her hips when she bottomed into you, settled on her knees, and bent over slightly to curl the strap inside of you, hitting an unfamiliar spongy spot that had you sinfully whining with a hand clenched on Wednesday’s head. “If the entirety of humanity could merely glimpse you in your current state, they would swiftly recognize your rare moment of submissiveness,” her lips dove down, meeting your ear, “all submissive just for me.”

Her movements grew hard, her hands gripping your skin with a bruising force while her hips drove into you with no relent, finding a need for her own release. The so-called “devil” found herself groaning heavy breaths into your ear, all the while slipping a soft moan or two in that she couldn’t hold. The feeling of you finally beneath her, pleading and scratching at her for release, felt ethereal; all of her senses were on cloud nine, and it ignited a burrowed-down spark.

One of Wednesday’s hands removed from your skin, leaving behind darkened marks that would worsen with time to connect with your cheek, the slap making you roll your eyes back at how dirty it felt. “No connected nerves, and I can still feel you pulsating on me; you’re driving me crazy with it.” 

Your moans were muffled at the feeling of the ravenhead’s fingers shoving deep into your mouth, bypassing your uvula, causing a gag to ensue. Your lips wrapped around the digits, absentmindedly biting on them when the pit in your stomach started to burn like wildfire, making you tighten around the raven’s strap and force her to slow her movements, though still managing a speedy pace. 

“Don’t cum.”

The words you wished never left her mouth made you whine around her fingers; your body was too sensitive from your lack of sexual activity and masturbation over the years, making it almost impossible to fight your orgasm off. Her fingers briefly exited your mouth, only to slap your cheek once more before returning to their original location. “Just for a bit.”

The hold-off was tortuous; the muscles in your body tightened incredulously while your mouth pathetically sucked on Wednesday’s fingers in a pathetic attempt to tear your mind away from your orgasm. It didn’t work. 

The overloading, burning sensation in your stomach was almost uncomfortable; the fire burned longer than it intended to while you made putrid eye contact with the roof, Wednesday’s head snug to the side of yours while she drew herself closer to her own orgasm. The words that made  you sigh in relief, your body shaking after seconds of torture, finally came past the girl’s lips, and you adored them.

“Cum for me, la mia dolce metà.”

You obeyed immediately, allowing your muscles to untighten, and Wednesday’s fingers left your mouth, allowing you to spew out a large moan that, without a doubt, woke the entire hall up. Your hands dug into her shoulders, feeling her shudder over you from her own orgasm, though the only thing that left her mouth was heavy pants.

Alas, she pulled out of you after seconds of relishing in one another’s embrace, making you feel empty compared to just minutes ago. The tip of Wednesday’s cock directed to your swollen clit from her previous oral actions, pushing down with enough pressure to make your toes curl and a breathy sigh leave your mouth.

Wednesday had pulled herself up by now, and it was only then that you noticed the girl taking a mental screenshot of your body, more specifically your core and the way your cum leaked out of you at a snail's pace. She licked her lips at the sight, her eyes flickering up to meet yours, and you gulped.

“La mia dolce metà,” she whispered, hands running down your body and to your hips, “I’m not done with you just yet.” The edges of her lips tugged ever so slightly when she dipped her head down to meet your core, leaving you to moan with delight as your hand found it’s way back to her hair.

House Of Balloons, Elliot X Reader

house of balloons, elliot x reader

synopsis: at a frat party, you fall right into elliot's mysterious and enticing web, and both of you share two desires: sex, and drugs—a recipe for disaster. warning(s): smut (minors dni!!!), college!au, frat boy!elliot, canon ages (over 18), mentions of drug use (c*caine), sexual acts, intoxication, masturbation (fem receiving), praise kink author's note: i think this is one of my favorite imagines... and if the smut sucks i'm sorry x. it's my first time writing it, give me a break. not proofread. wc: 1.6k

House Of Balloons, Elliot X Reader
House Of Balloons, Elliot X Reader

Partying was the only way you knew how to take your mind off of the series of woeful ordeals that seemed to always happen to you. Your other remedies? Drugs and sex. To be frank, you couldn’t have one without the other. 

When Maddy extended her invitation to tag along with her and her friends to a frat party, you couldn’t help but enthusiastically accept. You partied with them before and enjoyed yourself, so you figured it wouldn’t hurt to join them once again. 

Now here you were, occupying a spot on the wall, sipping your drink and scoping the scene. The house was packed with intoxicated college students in their twenty-somethings, dancing the night away knowing that the following morning they have classes to attend. 

That was the beauty of university. The fact that if you needed to let loose, you could garner the right connections and ditch your sorrows for the night then bury them. 

Maddy and Cassie were singing their hearts to the song blasting on the speakers on top of the table, catching everyone’s attention. The crowd surrounding them was singing along. Until the DJ abruptly switched the song. It was then you realized quickly what you didn’t like about frat parties, you loathed the music they played. 

The song was so bad that you quickly pushed yourself off the wall and tried to find the nearest empty bedroom. Clutching your cup, you squeeze you past the living room and snuck into the foyer. A DO NOT ENTER sign was plastered on the glass door that separated the rooms, bolded and in red ink. 

Ignoring the sign and quickly glancing around you, you slowly opened the door, and tip-toed through and into the foyer. It was much quieter now that you moved away from the speakers. Your curiosity peaked once you noticed the spiral stairwell, so you walked near the steps and went up to explore the rest of the house. 

There were so many rooms in one hallway, you couldn’t pick, but you settled on the third to the right. You didn’t hear any noise when you pressed your ear against the door, and you assumed it’d be safe to go in.

It was a typical college boy’s bedroom, nothing really out of the ordinary. Cartoon posters, and basketball jerseys on plaques hanging above the king-size bed. The desk was piled with textbooks and loose pieces of paper, as well as other miscellaneous office supplies. And although the desk was messy, the floor of the room was surprisingly clean, almost as if the owner regularly cleaned it.

A clean frat boy is, without a doubt, a rare occurrence.

You became so entranced with examining this random person’s bedroom that you hardly noticed the toilet in the connecting bathroom flush. You jump as a figure emerges from the bathroom, and you are met with his slightly startled brown eyes and dirty-blonde outgrown hair.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked

“Who the fuck are you?” you quickly rebuttal. You realized it was a stupid question to ask, considering that he may or may not be the owner of this room and you invaded it, but you were drunk and high off of two whole blunts. Everything from when you finished your last cup to now was hazy, but not enough to lead you completely incoherent.

“You’re in my room, you’re not even supposed to go past the sign on the door.”

“I’m aware,” you reply, trekking towards his bed and plopping on the edge, “The music sucked so I wanted to get away.”

“You could've gone outside,” he furrowed his brows at you while you ran your hands on the bed.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t…” your voice trailed off as your gaze diverted from the little doodles you were drawing on his blanket and up at his. It didn’t take long for you to notice how dilated his pupils were.

You shot up off the bed and walked closer to him, “You happen to know anybody that can hook me up?”

His eyes stayed on yours as you approached them, and his face went from confused to perplexed at the drop of a hat. A slight smirk ticked at the corner of your lip and you knew you had hit the jackpot.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, looking off to the side with a small grin.

You playfully rolled your eyes, “Oh come on, you can’t fool me. I know a plug when I see one.”

His eyes widened shockingly and chuckled at your comment, “Wow, now I’m being profiled by the random girl who snuck into my room asking for drugs?”

“Wow, now I’m being judged by the boy pretending not to be a drug dealer?” you playfully shot back at him, with a tilt in your head and crossing your arms.

Another laugh escaped both his and your lips and you spun on your feet and went back to glancing around the room, “Your room is nice… typical… but nice. And your blanket is fun to draw on.”

“Thanks, random girl who snuck into my room.” you could hear his shoes tapping against the wood floor as he followed you, supposedly making sure you didn’t find what you were looking for.

But apparently, this man could read minds, because when you turned back around he was staring at you with a tight-lipped smile on his face and waving a baggy of white powder in the air, “Is this what you’re looking for.”

You narrowed your brows at him and hummed, “Perhaps… perhaps it is.”

He inched closer to you, a little too close, and toyed with the baggie near your face, “You’re cute.” Was all he said after running the bag across your lips and then walking back toward the bathroom.

“Just cute? Not hot, sexy, beautiful, gorgeous, stunning,” you trailed off.

“Hot? Nobody says that anymore.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “I do,” You looked around for the bathroom and went inside, watching as he swiftly snorted a line off of the counter, “That was hot.”

He skimmed up at you with a smirk, “Want some?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” you said, entering the bathroom, not breaking the contact that you made with his eyes. They were seductive. Enticing, even. Just the mere glance was enough to send you over the edge. But you kept your composure, breaking the contact when you peeked down at the line that he cut just for you.

A smile etched your face as you plugged your right nostril with your freshly manicured nails, leaned lower toward the countertop, and snorted the contents through your other nostril.

The rush hit your body almost instantly, sending eclectic waves up and down your spine. The feeling was entirely too euphoric to explain, but you knew that you had snorted quality cocaine.

You turned around and glanced at yourself in the mirror, disregarding him leaning in the doorway, just watching you, “You’re creeping me out, boy with no name.”

“Elliot.” He muttered, still watching you. 

You spun around and leaned against the counter, “Thanks for the coke, Elliot.”

The room fell silent, all that could be heard was the slight thumping against the floor from the loud music playing downstairs. You were enjoying this quiet, yet awkward sexual tension that filled the air. 

It was confusing because the silence normally wouldn't weird you out enough to leave, but for some reason, this silence was reeling you in a different direction. A direction that made your body hot and steamy, waiting for him to touch you with his ring-stacked fingers.

That was put to a halt when your vision started drifting elsewhere and you felt his body moving closer to yours, “I guess we’re skipping the formalities,” you mumbled as he cupped your behind and placed you on top of the counter.

His lips softly connected with the flesh on your neck, “I guess so.” He placed kisses along your jawline and then met your lips. You threw your arms on his shoulders and allowed his hands to roam free along the lower half of your body.

He kissed you with so much passion, that you would've thought you were the love of his life and not a random girl in search of drugs like he had said before.

His hand abruptly latched on the hem of your skirt and slowly pulled it down, but his lips never met yours. You noticed that he was a really good kisser. Good enough to make you mewl when he nibbled on your bottom lip.

His fingers danced along your sides, then between your thighs. He took his thumb and began rubbing on your bud through your panties, causing your breathing to hitch. You leaned your body back against the mirror and watched as he began picking up the pace.

He continued to rub circles on your clit and lifted his free hand to your chin, “Look at me, okay?”

You responded with a nod and a pleasurable moan. You tried to keep your eyes on his but as he continued to go faster and faster, you could feel your legs start to quiver.

“Damn, your moans are cute too,” He said with a smile on his face, “And the face you make when you’re about to cum.”

You felt it coming. You knew it was coming. The closer it was the more your head started to loll backwards. 

“I’m about to–”

“I know, baby,” he cut you off and sped up the circular motions his fingers were making on your sensitive bud, “You can cum. Go ahead, be a good girl, and cum for me.”

And just like that, you became undone against his ringed fingers and breathing heavily. Elliot licked his fingers clean and then pulled you off the counter and engulfed you in a tongue-filled kiss.

“I don’t even know your name,” he said when you broke the kiss.

“You don’t have to.”

House Of Balloons, Elliot X Reader

Tags
2 weeks ago

summer road trip with luke castellan (16+, implied sex)

it starts with a promise.

made late at night, in the kind of hazy space between sleep and dreaming, when the world feels quiet and nothing’s quite real yet. you’re lying side by side on a roof somewhere—one of those abandoned places luke likes to sneak into. the stars are barely visible, city lights bleeding up into the sky, but you’re not really looking at the stars anyway.

“we should do it,” he says, breathless from laughter after a dumb joke he barely managed to get out. “just take off one day. no plans. no schedules. just you, me, and the open road.”

you laugh into the sleeve of your hoodie. “okay, cowboy.”

“i’m serious.” he props himself up on his elbows. “we’ll make playlists. stay in janky motels. get gas station snacks that’ll probably kill us. it’ll be perfect.”

you hum, eyes fluttering shut. “we’re always saying ‘one day.’ you ever think about making it this day?”

he doesn’t say anything for a long second.

then, “i’ll steal a car.”

you snort. “please don’t steal a car.”

“fine. borrow one.” he nudges your arm. “c’mon. you know you want this.”

you do. gods, you really do.

and maybe that’s why two weeks later you’re throwing a duffel bag in the backseat of an old car luke somehow managed to “legally” obtain (you don’t ask too many questions), a worn paper map stuffed into the glove compartment, and three half-charged burner phones just in case.

you don’t even pick a destination. that’s the point.

it’s about the drive.

the first few days are the best kind of disorganized. you get hopelessly turned around trying to get out of the city, miss your turn like, four times, and end up on some weird detour through a town that seems stuck in the 1950s. you eat breakfast-for-dinner at a diner with cracked red booths and a waitress who calls you both “sweethearts.” luke leaves a doodle on a napkin and tucks it into the jukebox.

the road stretches ahead like a ribbon of possibility, glittering under the sun. the heat blurs the horizon, making everything shimmer like a mirage, and the sky is that kind of obnoxiously perfect blue that feels more like a postcard than real life.

the a.c. in the car gave up somewhere around three days ago, so the windows are rolled down, warm air rushing in and tangling your hair, sticking your shirt to your back. it doesn’t help much, but it’s better than nothing.

you've got one foot propped on the dash and a half-melted slushie wedged into the cupholder, condensation dripping down the sides. the map—the one you swore you didn’t need, and luke insisted you bring anyway—flutters against your knee every time the wind hits just right. it’s already creased and stained, with corners starting to curl. neither of you are really using it.

a cd clicks softly in the stereo, and a hazy guitar riff spills out—something easy, something old. the kind of music that makes you feel like you’re in a movie.

you hum to the songs you know, watching the scenery blur past in golden smears of light and heat.

luke’s driving one-handed, the other resting lazily out the window, fingers tapping against the door in time with the beat. sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose, and there’s a sunburn blooming along the edge of his jaw that he keeps forgetting to take care of. he looks over at you, grinning.

“you’re gonna fly out the window if you lean any further.”

“worth it,” you say, hair whipping across your face. “this breeze is all that’s keeping me alive right now.”

he chuckles, reaching over to tug the map from your lap. “you’re the one who said we didn’t need to stop for sunscreen. or, y’know, ice.”

“and you’re the one who didn’t want to stop for directions,” you shoot back, watching him squint at the map like it personally offended him. “so now we’re two thirsty idiots lost somewhere between nowhere and hell.”

“romantic,” he says, tossing the map into the backseat. “just the way i like it.”

you roll your eyes, but it’s affectionate. always is with him.

the wind smells like dust and wildflowers, and every few miles, you pass a road sign faded by time and sun. one of them promises a lake in twenty minutes which probably is not true. the next, a diner with the “best pie in the state.” you don’t stop for either. maybe the next one.

you were supposed to take turns driving. that was the deal—fifty-fifty, no arguments. but luke, being luke, never sticks to the plan. he always insists he’s fine, even when you catch his eyes fluttering shut at a red light, head tilting slightly like he’s about to nod off right then and there.

“i literally saw you close your eyes for five seconds,” you say when he pulls into a gas station, the gravel crunching beneath the tires as he parks.

“it was just five seconds,” he groans.

“five seconds away from crashing,” you mutter, already unbuckling your seatbelt. “move over.”

he sighs, dragging himself out from behind the wheel with all the theatrics of someone who’s definitely not fine, even if he still insists otherwise. he grumbles under his breath as he slides into the passenger seat—and is completely passed out the second his head hits the window. no “i’m not even tired,” no “just resting my eyes.” just out cold. mouth open, snoring, even drooling a little.

you drive comfortably after that. there’s less tension on your shoulders now that you’re the one in control, and luke’s quiet snoring is oddly comforting.

he stirs sometime later, sleep-warm and rumpled, his voice still thick with it when he reaches across the console. his hand finds yours with ease, like it’s muscle memory. his fingers slot between yours and, without a word, he lifts your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. soft. slow. like a thank-you.

somewhere between a cracked-out diner with the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had and a pit stop at a quiet national park, you start feeling it—that warm, slow burn that only summer with luke castellan can bring.

it’s in the way he looks at you when you’re not looking, eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. it’s in the casual brush of his thumb over the back of your hand. it’s in the way he steals bites of your food, complains about the heat, and still tucks a cold bottle of water into your hands without being asked.

he’s quiet during the hikes, but he always slows down so you don’t fall behind, even when you insist you’re fine. he keeps snacks in his pockets for you, things he knows you like, things you didn’t even notice him buying. and when you sit beside him on the edge of a cliff, watching the sun drip like honey into the horizon, he kisses your shoulder so gently it sends goosebumps across your skin.

he takes so many pictures of you. most of the time you don’t even notice until he shows you later—sun-drenched, wind-tousled, blurry with motion but sharp with love. he says he wants to remember you like this. you laugh and roll your eyes, but still smile a little too hard when you see them.

you two stop at a few motels every now and then. they were nothing special. peeling paint, flickering neon sign half-buzzed out, and a questionable stain or two on the carpet—but it’s cheap, and it’s got just enough charm to feel like part of the story. luke leans against the counter while you check in, tapping the bell repeatedly until you swat at him.

the old woman behind the desk gives you a room key and a knowing smirk like she’s seen a thousand versions of you two before: sunburnt, road-weary, eyes too bright to be anything but in love.

sometimes, impulses get the best of the two of you. like when one day luke spots a faded little hand-painted sign pointing down an overgrown path off the side of the highway. beach access. there’s no one around. no cars. just the sound of cicadas and wind through tall grass.

you both follow it on instinct, barefoot and laughing, racing toward the sound of crashing waves.

and then there it is: a hidden stretch of shoreline tucked between two cliffs, like a secret carved out just for you. no footprints, no noise except for the ocean. the sand’s hot and soft under your feet, the sun dipping low on the horizon and casting everything in amber.

you run straight into the water, still half-dressed, splashing and shrieking when luke dunks you under and then pulls you back up, breathless and dripping. he kisses you then, water-slicked and grinning, hands on your waist like he’s never going to let go.

and later, after you’ve both sprinted back to the car, giddy and dripping wet, after the sand’s stuck to every inch of your skin and the sun’s painted you gold, you end up tangled in the back seat. skin sticky with sweat, your bodies pressed close in the heat of the car, breathing in tandem.

the windows fog up, the air thick with salt and sun and something heavier. the radio hums low, some lazy summer song playing beneath the sounds of your bodies shifting, touching, needing. his hands roam like he’s mapping you out all over again, rough in the way he holds you but gentle in the way he touches, like he knows exactly where to press to make you shiver.

he kisses you like he’s trying to memorize the taste of salt on your lips, like he wants to bottle this exact moment and keep it somewhere safe. and you, half-laughing between gasps, fingers twisted in his curls, mumble against his mouth, “i told you the backseat would get too hot.”

“guess we’ll have to open the door,” he says, voice low and teasing. “get a breeze in here.”

you roll your eyes, breathless and flushed. “fuck off, if we get caught by some poor park ranger—”

“worth it,” he grins, before kissing you again. deeper, slower this time.

and when you’re breathless and half-dressed, your back pressed to the warm seat and your body aching in all the best ways, you lie there with your head on his chest. his heartbeat is loud in your ear, steady and real.

you tilt your face up toward him, the fading light painting him in gold. “same time next summer?”

his arm tightens around you, his voice soft and full of something you don’t have a name for yet. “you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

2 months ago

sub!elliot pleaaseee

probably will but this in a fic as well bc the concept is very hot

thank u for suggestion !

OBEY

Sub!elliot Pleaaseee
Sub!elliot Pleaaseee

His thighs would shake, cold nose burning the flesh of your neck. Eyes squeezed shut, fast breaths would part from the boy, his arm thrown around you as you pumped him at a quick pace. His stomach suddenly tensed when you ran your thumb over his slippery tip, another high pitched moan ripping from his throat, “Fuck—I’m gonna cum,” he announced, one of his hands flying to your wrist, “Can I cum, please? I’m so fucking close—“

“Cum,” you simply said, his hips lifting off the bed as white spurts of cum landed on your white hoodie. His other hand rested on his lower stomach, while the other squeezed your arm—jerking from sensitivity when you kept going, “I can’t—“

You ignored him, smiling to yourself as you giggled. He let out a choked groan when your hand sped up once again, only twisting on the tip, his hips trying to escape your grip, “Baby, baby—ugh,” He cut himself off, trying his best to escape your grip. His body began to take over his mind as he thrusted his hips again, “It’s too much—it’s sensitive, holy shit I’m gonna cum again,” he said the last part as if he was genuinely scared, shaking his head.

You hummed, pumping harder, and when your other fingers went to pinch his balls—his head snapped to you before his mouth fell open, a long raspy groan tearing from his chest as he came for the second time.

2 months ago

my valentine without the word ㆍ୨୧ㆍ wally clark x fem!reader

summary: being boyfriend and girlfriend spirits were easy; they were able to touch, able to feel each other, see each other and everything! but, what wally didn’t think of was the fact every valentine’s day, he can’t ask her to be his valentine since that’s the day she died.

warnings; mentions of y/n death, bubbly! reader, clueless! reader, sweet! reader, wally being a yearner, extreme fluff and soft ending, awkwardness a bit, make-out but no smut

a/n: HEY YALL..but anyways i wanted to write a little wally fic for valentine’s day bc I YEARN FOR HIM ITS SO BAD STOP STOP MAKE IT STOP

My Valentine Without The Word ㆍ୨୧ㆍ Wally Clark X Fem!reader
My Valentine Without The Word ㆍ୨୧ㆍ Wally Clark X Fem!reader

sitting on the top bleachers with their hands holding one another, wally pressed his lips against y/n’s sweet and tender ones, she smiled into the kiss and hummed when he let his hand wander and pulled her waist closer to his body.

this was their morning routine, afternoon routine, evening and night. every day they’ll find some alone time and cuddle up with each other, losing time and energy in each other and finding comfort in one another.

today was different, it felt different, the atmosphere was totally off and wally didn’t know what it was, every couple was kissing somewhere, there were pink balloons, heart shaped and all.

he knew exactly what today was, but couldn’t do anything about it.

pulling apart as she kissed his cheek, y/n heard her name be called by sarah, another ghost who’d died from choking on her cucumber at lunch ten years ago, she was nice and sweet, wally didn’t know her personally, but y/n talked about her a lot and he’s bound to listen to every and anything she says.

‘oh, i guess i gotta go, i promised sarah i’d talk to her today, i’ll see you later?’ y/n hummed and tilted her head to the side as wally smiled deeply and pushed his lips against hers one last time, for now

‘okay but promise we’ll meet up in the teachers lounge, i heard words that there’s some cute decor there. I know you’ll love to see’ he smiled as she squealed.

y/n loved anything sweet, soft, kind and gentle. she was bound to date a jock, if they were still alive, he wouldn’t put it past himself that he wouldn’t go for her.

‘okay! i’ll hold you too that’ she smiled and pulled away from his grasp, walking down the bleachers and running to sarah.

sighing he leaned back—‘did you ask her yet?’ yelling and turning to see charley he groaned and rolled his eyes.

‘no..why would i? that’d be a different level of fucked up..i don’t want her to think about it’ wally sighed and looked at the door that y/n had left out of.

‘think about what? valentine’s day? it’s the most cute day for couples, expressing love, kissing each other, holding each other, whispering sweet nothings—‘

‘remembering the day you died on…’ wally looked at charley who left his mouth agap, frowning his eyebrows and gasping.

‘wait, she died on valentine’s day? the sweetest girl, bubbly, nice, beautiful, kind, loving, and supportive girl died on valentine’s day? how even…’ he was confused, y/n shared how she died in an embarrassing and traumatic way never when she died especially on this day.

‘yeah..she never told you?’ wally turned and was shocked, he’d assumed she told everyone by now, it’s been years, but he wouldn’t if he were her.

‘no..no? what happened? if you can tell me’ he wanted to know, charley needed to know, if it was so embarrassing it would probably cure him from being a gay who died of a nut allergy.

‘well..i mean..if i tell you, you didn’t hear this from me! i don’t want to tell you but she said she’d tell you guys more about it tomorrow so ill tell you’

‘okay! okay! just yeah..tell me everything’ he got comfortable next to wally and waiting for him to start it.

.˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ ★ ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

walking down the school hallway with her hair in a half up half down and a bow on the hair tie, y/n hummed and smiled to herself while she thought about her secret love letter she got in her locker.

she was a huge romantic and seeing that made her whole day, her whole valentine’s day.

the letter had said—

to the most beautiful girl in school, i want to confess my love to you but im afraid. afraid of what you’ll think of me and afraid of what you might say. meet me behind the school after school so i can confess my deep love and affection for you, y/n l/n, my sweetest memory.

from your secret admire.

she was star struck, she heard rumors of people having a crush on her but she never listened to the because they never said anything to her directly, she loved love and wanted to feel it more than anything, but hearing rumors and fake news made her dislike love from school more than anything.

it was the last period and she’d been drawing hearts on her paper, red and pink. smiling to herself while holding the letter in her pink knitted pocket.

wondering to herself who could it be? what does he look like, or what does she look like? are they tall or short? silly or serious? dangerous or nothing like it?

she was in a daze.

at the end of the day, waiting in her deep red car, she sat and waited, everyone leaving the premise, the sun setting and the moon coming to show its softness, she was nervous.

getting out of her car and walking to the back of the school, she looked down to see red rose petals on the ground and smiled wide, her face warming up and her eyes shining.

following the rose petals she looked up and smiled at the huge letters of ‘would you be my valentine’. gasping and giggling to herself whilst looking at the table of heart shaped chocolates and flowers she touching them softly.

‘y/n?’ turning around she jumped and suppressed a gasp. what was he doing here? was this allowed?

‘mr. smith..i’m sorry i—‘

‘no no..don’t apologize..besides i’m the one who asked you to be here’

what.

‘i’m sorry?’ she knew exactly what he meant.

‘it’s just..i know that this isn’t normal but i know that this is real, what i feel for you? it’s all real, and i know you love me too, you show it all the time! smiling, laughing at me, staying after class—‘

‘mr.smith..i’m..no? i’m sorry i don’t understand..i stay after class for help on my work i don’t—‘

‘no no no don’t play with me i know what you feel i know it’s real, i know that you love me, i love you just as much, even more if anything!’ He stepped closer as she stepped back, hitting the table of flowers and chocolates.

how long did this take him to plan, did he really feel this way for her, she’s sixteen for heaven sake and he’s forty nine, he has a wife and she’s pregnant, where did she go wrong.

‘mr.smith please..i need to get home—‘

‘no!’

jumping she gasped and held a hand over her mouth as he tried to calm himself, breathing in and out with his eyes closed he shook his head—‘no..you haven’t even touched your chocolates yet..please..just..please’ sighing she walked sirius the table to that it was between him and her.

‘i’d i eat this..will you let me go home..please’ she begged. he looked like he was thinking to himself, weighing out the options and signing.

‘of course!’ she sighed and gulped, picking up a milk chocolate heart and slowly pushing it into her mouth she chewed, and swallowed.

‘there..now—‘ gulping while she felt something in her body move, almost as if something just shut down, she closed her eyes and hummed.

‘sh sh sh..’ walking to y/n who kept opening and closing her eyes she frowns and groaned, her whole body felt so heavy, out of place and like water.

what..she’d be drugged of course.

a popular teacher amongst the town who fell in love with his sixteen year old student just confessed his love. of course he knew the odds of her returning them, that’s why he did this.

‘mr…’ she hummed and almost fell but he caught her body, his hand on her cheek to hold her head up as her light pink kitten healed foot bent, losing her balance. the only thing keeping her afloat was his grip around her waist and his hand on her neck and face.

‘it’s okay my sweet, it’s alright, sh sh sh’ he brought her body down on to the stage floor. his knees present against the wood as she was passed out cold, her mind shut down completely and he shoved more chocolate down her throat.

.˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ ★ ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

‘the last thing she remembers is waking up in the stage floor and the whole room was empty, her body was sore and she said it felt like she was walking on nothing. later that week she’d even ignored by everyone and anyone, her parents had come to look for her even when she yelled in their face that she was right there.’ wally clutched his fist in anger and sorrow for her.

charley sat there in pure silence and shock, the overwhelming feeling of pity filled his every being. horror and sadness were very apparent in the both of them.

‘then the next week after that, she’d started hearing rumors about her death, that she was strangled, and shoved in the back of the costume room. the autopsy report being overdose, the last thing she ate being chocolate..every time she sees one she gets physically sick..’ wally shook his head as he remembers the time she ran out of the room when a student dropped a box of chocolate in front of her and she wasn’t seen for the rest of the day until he visited her.

‘he was caught, a month later, in a room filled with her pictures and a lock of her hair in his grip, supposedly he still keeps it to this day in jail’ wally finished off as he looked at charley who’s been shut down.

his mouth hung open and his eyes watching wally.

‘but..does she know he’s still alive?’

‘yeah, of course she does, she listens to the teacher lounge every day for any news about him dying, she reads the newspapers and watches the news when it’s on’ wally stood up and walked down the bleachers with charley following.

‘so wait, i understand how fucked up and traumatic that is but why won’t you just ask her to be your valentine you know? without the fancy decorations, without any sweets or anything, what about like..pizza? or a hot dog?’ he suggested.

‘nah..i don’t want her to hear the word from me at least and get any form of flash back, i couldn’t fathom it if i cause her pain in any way even if its involuntary..I just wanted her to have a sweet day without anything happening.’ wally walked as charley followed.

there weren’t many places to go but at the moment the cafe was the hot spot, y/n had been off somewhere, post likely the acting class with sarah still.

‘well i don’t think if you say “will you be my valentine” without saying it, she’ll have any kind of flashback’ he suggested.

wally turned and was interested.

‘how do i say it without saying it?’

.˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ ★ ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳ .

walking down to the teachers lounge as wally fixed his hair, he straightened his back and cracked his neck.

charley’s words ringing and replaying in his head as he saw her.

standing with her small heeled shoes; pink knitted sweater and white dress, her hair tied back and with a bow, she turned and smiled.

‘wally!’ walking fastly to him and wrapping her arms around his neck he smiled and held his hand on her small back, holding it and kissing her deeply.

she smelt so nice every time he was around her. her whole being was enough to be a drug for him if anything.

‘aw did you miss me today?’ he teased as she nodded with a smile.

‘i was thinking about you all day! i wanted to ditch sarah and come to you so bad but i didn’t want to be a bad friend’ she laughed as he did as well, his arms holding her against himself.

‘i was thinking about nothing but you, i wanted to do something for you..something small, y’know. for our day’ he smiled, trying to avoid the words, the day, today, and valentine’s day.

‘awh, our day? what do you have planned’ she wondered; tilted her head to the side while her earring hoops moved as well.

‘come on!’ He tugged her hand and lead he outside.

walking to the garden that the school had, he opened the door and they sat down on the silver bench, it was a bit chilly but the breeze settled it evenly.

‘you wanted to come outside?’

‘yeah, i mean, it’s a nice day, the flowers have bloomed, look’ she turned from his eyes and looked at the pink flowers on the ground. gasping she smiled at them.

‘oh, this is sweet’ she smiled and turned to wally who looked like he was suffocating.

‘baby you okay—‘

‘but y’know, we can also go to the lounge, any classroom, the rooftop! it doesn’t matter, or our favorite secret spot?’ he grinned and pressed his nose against hers and smiled while he kissed her softly.

she smiled into it but frowned and pulled away.

‘wait, so your not going to ask me?’ she pulled away while looking at his lips, her pointer finger touching his chin while her eyes then moved up to his own.

‘..ask you what?’ he asked dumbly

‘wally..you know what’ she scolded, her eyebrows frowning—‘wally come on..’

‘i can’t! you know i can’t and i won’t!’ he shook his head while she placed a hand on his cheek.

‘wally..’

‘no y/n i’m serious. if i bring up anything, any pain, any memory; any regrets and trauma i will lose myself and i can’t do that to you because i can’t hurt you. i can’t..’

‘wally…your not hurting me by asking me to be your valentine..you never ask me! this is the sixth year you didn’t ask me! i let the other five pass because i wanted you to say it without me saying anything but please..it’s cute! it’s a beautiful day it’s..it’s not why i died..’ she whispers the last part; his eyebrows pulling together.

a small frown on her lips as she let her fingers play with his ear, a weird calming touch for him and a note for her to let her know he was there.

‘i didn’t die because of valentine’s day i just so happened to be killed by some weirdo who thought i liked him..im over thinking about it..i want you to be my valentine if you’ll have me?’ she smiled at the final part and he smiled back, laughing and nodding as she hummed.

‘yeah?’ she encourages as he nodded more—‘yes..yes, will you be my valentine?’ he smiled as his lips brushed hers and she nodded with a smile.

‘of course wally clark’ pushing herself into his lips as he closed his eyes, he hummed and held the back of her neck, their kiss deepening and her hands touching his chest and neck.

pulling apart to breath into each others mouth before pushing back into it, wally leaned back onto the bench and let y/n on top of him, her hand on his chest and his holding her waist.

she smiled as he groaned a bit. moving her face and nibbling his neck.

gripping her waist and resisting the urge to push his hips up against hers. she smiled and whispered—‘i’m not afraid of chocolates anymore, you can get me some of those too’ he smiled as she hovered over his face and leaned down to kiss her sweet.

holding the neck of his valentine .

Hihi, ik this is corny lol but could you do a fake dating scenario with 1610!miles where he uses the relationship to cover up his identity as spiderman and why he’s always gone ?

I LOVE THE FAKE DATING TROPE SO MUCH!

Thank you for the prompt! I added some childhood friends to lovers to this :) Hope you like it!

---

Miles and you had been inseparable friends since childhood. Growing up, your families had lived in adjacent apartments, but circumstances forced your family to move to a more affordable neighborhood when you turned eight. Despite attending different schools, you remained friends throughout the years.

As fate would have it, you had come to suspect that Miles was none other than Spider-Man through your occasional encounters with the web-slinging hero. His unmistakable voice, his quirky sense of humor, and that distinctive laugh had given his true identity away.

Miles’ double life as a superhero kept him perpetually occupied. It had been a while since you had last hung out, but you were understanding of the situation. Keeping New York safe was not an easy task.

Each time you witnessed him soaring through the towering skyscrapers of the city, a smile appeared on your face. He was happy, and that was all that mattered to you.

On this particular day, as you were heading home from school, an unexpected event unfolded before your eyes. It was quite a comical sight – a shopping bag laden with groceries in Spider-Man’s hands, as if he were an ordinary citizen carrying out mundane tasks. But just as he exited the store, a car raced down the street at a dangerous speed, closely followed by a convoy of police cars.  

Without a moment’s hesitation, he dropped the shopping bag and leaped into action, joining the chase. Amused by the relentless chaos that seemed to follow Spider-Man wherever he went, you decided to do what any loyal friend would have done: You picked up his abandoned groceries and embarked on a mission of your own – to deliver them to his parents’ apartment.

It took you quite some time until you finally arrived at your destination. The sound of a heated argument echoed from the inside of Miles’ apartment. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“¡No puedo creer que te hayas olvidado de comprar los comestibles otra vez!” His mother’s voice rang out, filled with frustration.  

“Lo siento,” you heard Miles’ voice reply. “I just – I got distracted, and then forgot about the food entirely!”

“Distracted by what?” His dad sounded equally irritated. “You had one job!”

Technically, the poor kid has multiple responsibilities, you thought. That’s when you decided to step in and save the day. You knocked on the door, determined to help.  

The conversation abruptly fell silent. Miles opened the door, his expression a mix of surprise and bewilderment when he saw you.

"You left your groceries at my house," you said, attempting to convey with your gaze: Hey, I know you're Spider-Man, and I saw you drop your shit just to chase after a criminal. Step up your game.  

His father appeared in the doorway. When he recognized you, he smiled. "Oh, it's you. Miles, why didn't you tell me you were visiting a friend?"

You could see the gears turning in Miles' head. Then, to your own astonishment, he responded, "Girlfriend. Not friend."

A sudden crash of dishes on the floor interrupted the scene. Miles' mother stormed towards the door. "What did I just hear?"

You raised an eyebrow, silently questioning him. What the hell, Morales?

Thankfully, you and Miles had always possessed the unique ability to communicate without words.

His look pleaded: Play along. Please.

Who were you to let down a friend in need? If he needed the excuse of a girlfriend, then of course you would provide your assistance.

His father's jaw had dropped. He stared at you as if he were seeing you for the first time in his life.

"Yep!” you said cheerfully. “Girlfriend. We've been dating for..." You looked at him, seeking his support on the matter.

"For a while!" he rushed to say.

Not helpful, you thought.

"What do you mean 'a while'?" his mother inquired suspiciously.

"Nine months,” he said.

"NINE MONTHS?" Her shrill voice pierced through the room, making you cringe. "You've been dating a girl for nine months, and you're only telling us now? Come on in, dear, don't just stand there in the doorway!" She grabbed you by the shoulder and, before you could protest, you were dragged into the living room.

Oh, boy. This was going to be a disaster.

"That explains a lot," his father muttered, but it sounded more like he was talking to himself and thinking out loud. He patted Miles on the back. "You could have talked to me about it, kid. Although... I guess you're not a kid anymore, huh?" His tone turned sentimental and fatherly, and you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by the entire situation. You had to suppress the urge to grimace.

"Miles, don't just stand there like that, take your girlfriend's bag! She came all the way here because you're forgetful." His mother gave you a tense, yet warm smile. She probably would have reacted worse if Miles had introduced them to a complete stranger.

Miles, who suddenly seemed to remember that he had a role to play, hurriedly took the bag from you, putting it on the kitchen counter. When he returned, you could see him hesitate for a moment before giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

Tame.

Well. You were in front of his parents, so displaying restraint seemed appropriate.

But if you were already doing him a favor, you wanted to have your fun with it.

With a mischievous grin, you took his hand in yours, and he looked at you with wide, somewhat panicked eyes.

"I don't understand why you didn’t tell us sooner,” his father said.

"Because you guys embarrass me," Miles murmured shyly.

"Embarrassing? Us?" His mother gave him a disapproving glare. Then, turning to you, she said, "Don't break his heart, yeah?”  

"Mom!" He whined, blushing.

His genuine reactions were delightfully innocent, and you couldn’t resist taking it a step further.

You threw both your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a quick kiss. He was taller than you, and his hands instinctively wrapped around your waist. Caught off guard, his eyes widened as your lips met his.

His father cleared his throat, and his mother made a choked sound.

Grinning, you released him from the embrace.  

"I'm afraid I still have a lot of homework to do. I'll see you tomorrow, Miles. You guys have a great night, Mr. and Mrs. Morales!"

You left the apartment.

Miles ran after you and caught up with you on the street.

"You – what was that just now?" he exclaimed.

"I should be the one asking questions. Since when did I become your girlfriend?"

"I had to use that excuse!" He sounded contrite. "Sorry, it's just... They've been on my case for ages because I'm always busy and away from home."

"Don't worry about it." You gave him an encouraging smile. "I don't mind playing your girlfriend. Was that your first kiss just now?"

He flinched, embarrassment written all over his face. "No, I've kissed hundreds of girls. What are you talking about?"

"You're a pretty bad liar, Miles."

He puffed out his cheeks. "Fine. Yeah, it was my first kiss. Satisfied?"

"No, not yet. But it seems we'll have plenty of opportunities to practice kissing in the future."

Before he could say anything in response, you had already walked on, leaving an extremely perplexed and embarrassed Miles behind.

Well, you thought, this whole ordeal might actually be a nice distraction from my boring life.

You just had to be careful not to fall for him.

2 years ago

Meaningful Gestures Prompts

Welcome to my side-prompt blog! Ask me anything from writing, to prompt requests, and even join my discord where I can be frequently found!

Smoothing your fingers down your lover's tie, fixing where your lover couldn't tie it right.

Brushing your lover's waist/shoulder as they pass.

Instinctively pressing your hands against your lover's cheek as they passionately rave, only for them to stop talking and gape, completely distracted by the lack of distance.

Hooking your ankles together underneath the table.

Linking your hands together as you walk through school/a building/the streets--finger rubbing over your lover's knuckles softly.

Putting your hand on your lover's chest as they doze peacefully into the couch arm, focusing on the subtle beat of their heart on your hand.

Unflinchingly settling your head into your lover's lap while they watch television/are reading a book/doing their favorite hobby. Then asking your lover to explain what's going on/what they're doing.

On a whim, pulling your lover into an alley and pressing your lips firmly against theirs, getting lost in each other's touch while the streets bustle outside.

Holding your jacket over your lover's head as they hide from the rain, finding their formal outfit more important than your casual wear.

Whispering jokes/loving words in a lecture/school/church/a meeting. Trying not to laugh/flirt back in fear of disturbing everyone else who's trying to pay attention.

Putting your hand on your lover's thigh and feeling their eyes on you as they try to figure out your motives. Whether the touch is teasing or just for fun.

Mapping out your lover's features while they sleep in your arm, smoothing your thumbs down their cheeks, throat, collarbones, chin and nose.

Hooking a thumb into your lover's belt loop/pocket as a crowd surrounds you, making sure that you don't lose them in the people.

Pressing tiny kisses against your lover's shoulder while they're bent over a desk, trying to focus even though your touch is distracting them.

Wrapping your arms around your lover's waist and pressing your forehead against their back/resting on their shoulder, swaying to music only the two of you can hear.

At your lover's complaining, rubbing a spot where they ache, smiling as they lean into your touch and melt at both the touch and warmth.

Standing still as your lover rubs smudged lipstick/lipstick stains off of your skin, catching them off guard by pressing a kiss against their fingertip.

Pushing your lover against a wall after one too many teasing comments, but being met with unsaid tension instead of the quiet. Both of you unable to continue with the jokes.

After coming home from work/a long trip, finding your lover sobbing on the couch/in bed after a hard day, wiping away their tears with soft touches and gentle words--trying to convince them it's okay, and that you're there for them now.

Softly resting a hand on your lover's shoulder as they face something more difficult than ever, not bothering to exchange words as the touch does it all the same. You've got this in the bag.

Having your lover list everything they're insecure about, and responding with gentle caresses, kisses, and compliments about those areas.

While someone demeans your lover, standing up for them. Either in word, or by physically placing yourself right in front of them as a protective barrier.

Carding your fingers through your lover's hair after a bad nightmare, not caring that it's sweaty or matted, but just that they'll be able to get a good night's sleep, even if it's at the sacrifice of your own.

Protecting your lover's sleep as they doze on your lap, making sure nobody bothers them as they entrusted their peace to you.

Reading up on the things your lover enjoys so that when they talk about them, you'll understand a little better and be able to hold a conversation.

Tracing invisible shapes on your lover's skin as they're busy doing something stressful, keeping their attention half on what they're doing, and half on you.

Very softly placing butterfly kisses on your lover's skin up the length of their arm, either stopping at their neck, or drifting back down to their pulse point.

Reassurance in the form of food/movies/games, forcing them to take a second away and relax with you.

Not accepting that it's time to start the day, and pinning them onto the mattress with either your whole body, a leg, or more risque touches.

Visiting them at work, either with lunch, or just to spend the afternoon with them as they try to get things done. Whether they actually get things done, or thing devolve into flirting/romantic gestures is up to you.

DIALOGUE

"Hold on, let me fix this for you."

"God, you look so good."

"I'm... uh, dammit, your lips are so distracting. Are you doing this on purpose?"

"Your hands are always so warm."

"Be real with me, love. Do you really care about what I'm doing, or do you just want me to talk you to sleep?"

"If we get caught kissing in a small, dark, kind of shady alleyway, it's on you."

"Couldn't you wait to kiss me at home?"

"Please, I don't want the rain getting both of us sick. I volunteer to be tribute--take my jacket."

"Stop, stop! We're going to get in trouble, and I refuse to be yelled at because of you!"

"I am trusting you with that hand, darling. I hope my trust isn't misplaced."

"I promise I'll stay close."

"You know, I am trying to focus... but I can't deny that it doesn't feel good. Keep going, please."

"Take a small break, for me?"

"Never thought I'd have someone to sway with me in the kitchen... I'm glad I was wrong."

"You have lipstick on your cheek, here let me-- oh."

"I-- you-- where we we?"

"Kiss me, please."

"It's going to be okay, I promise."

"Let yourself cry, I'm here now. You're safe."

"You may think differently, but I love this about you."

"Every part, no matter how you feel, is amazing to me. I could spend all day explaining everything I love about you."

"You want to get to them, you go through me."

"Don't worry, I'll keep you safe."

"They're just a jerk, why don't we just go somewhere else?"

"I won't let them put their hands on you."

"I'm right here; I won't leave your side. Go back to sleep, darling."

"C'mere, I don't mind letting you sleep on me."

"Hey, leave them alone. They just fell asleep."

"Don't you dare wake them up."

"Wow, you really did your research, huh? That's amazing..."

"Next time, we can talk more about--"

"You know, you make these kinds of things not so painful, so thank you."

"Hmm... I don't whether to appreciate or complain that you're distracting me."

"I love how your pulse races for me..."

"Do I make your heart jump?"

"Come on, watch this movie with me. I promise it won't be as bad as the previous one."

"I bought this really cool game. Come and play it with me?"

"Hey, I got some food. Why don't we go eat in the kitchen for once?"

"Hrmg, I'm not moving. Don't make me."

"It's far too early for this..."

"Please, we need to get up."

"Touch me again, and I'm pushing you off the bed."

"I'm staying here, and I'm not moving. I do not care about your empty threats! Hey-- wait-- what are you doing?"

"I bought two sandwiches... by total accident, of course. Thought I might come give one of them to you, and maybe while I'm here spend some time with you, hm?"

"This... isn't doing work. But I don't think I mind."

"Thank you for joining me, love."

3 years ago

because you’re mine (it seems like we’re meant to be)

reader x elliot // bonfire fluff

warnings: drugs , alcohol use

a/n : i know this is very random, considering i’m a bts account, but recently euphoria has been giving me motivation to write, so feel free to request more!💫

image

the white shafts of daylight have passed, gone are the shadows of evening. flames from the fire rise boldly against the black sky. before that great fire their skin is glowing red, orange and gold. every eye is reflecting the flickering light, each iris containing a small picture of the bonfire before them. yet, it isn’t simply just the sight that has you mesmerized, so too has the crackling and the woody fragrance of smoke. you end up being put in front of elliot’s legs, feelings his knees against your back. you feel something press against your lips. as you look down to see a cup and elliot’s face, peering up at you imploringly as he offers the drink to you.of course, you take it, pulling it away to peer into the contents.

 “what is this?” you ask; it’s bright blue and looks like there’s glitter in it.

“i made it,” says elliot, and that’s enough of a reason to believe that you won’t die drinking it. so you knock back half of it in one go, swallowing and then frowning as you hand the cup back. 

“it’s supposed to taste like blueberry slushie, but i’m not sure if i got it right”.

you smack your lips. “tastes more like synthetic syrup” you admit, moving your hand to run your fingers over the nape of elliot’s neck.

his lips curl back into a hazy grin, reaching up to plant a kiss on your lips “i guess you’re right” elliot says moving back, but you kiss him back, a little harder than necessary; you’re not nearly drunk enough, but you kiss elliot like that anyway.“alright, alright,” rue calls. “don’t start fucking with all of us here”

elliot pulls back, turning to look at her, then pecks your cheek smiling, “there’s a first time for everything.”

beside rue, lexi makes a pained noise and immediately gets up. 

you pull back from elliot just enough, although you’re still tangled together as the rest of you dissolve into another conversation.

you let yourself listen to the lazy conversation as elliot wraps himself around you, clingier than usual thanks to the alcohol. elliot can still remember the new year’s eve, when you’ve crushed through the door trying to find rue, as cliche as it sounds, he knew you’ll mean a lot to him in the near future. 

and you did, still do.

maybe it was inevitable, then, for you to fall together the way you did—under the stars, and the entire world at your feet. when you kissed him for the first time out there, elliot told you it was probably a bad idea. but as soon as your lips met, both knew, there was no going back.you bring the joint to your lips and inhaling before you let out a long stream of smoke as you stare up at the stars.

there’s a light touch of elliot’s fingers caressing your sides.

you look up at him with that same lazy grin; there’s only the light of the moon and the fire, but it’s enough to see the way elliot looks at you. 

you want to blame it on the alcohol and the drugs, but elliot always kind of looks at you like he can’t believe you are real, like no high or euphoria could ever compare. you understand. it’s the way you look at him, too.

you take another drag of your joint and then lift your chin up, and elliot gets it immediately, leaning down and over you until your lips are nearly touching. you hold it for a second, at least until elliot gets impatient and bites your bottom lip, and then you open your mouth and breathe the smoke into his mouth. you can feel elliot grinning as your lips brush together, and then you lift your head up an inch to press your lips together into a kiss.by the time you resurface—or elliot pulls away, letting you back into the rest of the world, because it’s always hard to focus on anything else—the others have started their own conversation.

“you two are making me sick,” says nate.

“you’re fucking sick,” says fez.

you’re too lost in your own thoughts, brought back to the present only by elliot tickling your chin, leaning in and whispering, “are you sleeping?”

you grin, keeping your eyes closed as you murmurs “just thinking.”

“about?”

you hum. “you.”

elliot kisses your nose. you finally open your eyes, looking up at elliot looking down at you.

“i love you, you know,” says elliot, not taking his eyes off you.

you thumb at the corners of elliot’s mouth,“ i love you too,” you answer, breathless.


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