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roosterbruiser · 1 year

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𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐳-𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐬 ☿ 𝟔

☿ 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 "𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫" 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐘𝐨𝐮 (𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞: 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐀𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐧) ☿ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and Jake have an honest conversation about your pasts. Your love can be shared. ☿ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 7.3k ☿ 𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐳-𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲 ☿ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐳-𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐬 ☿ 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ☿ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭--𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝟖+. 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟕𝟎𝐬--𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐫𝐚.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱 𝐋𝐨𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐂𝐀 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟑𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

You’ve been at the restaurant for hours now. It’s a newer one, one that is draped in red velvet and low, pink lights. There are fresh flowers on all the mahogany tables and the tablecloths are all sewn from fine French linen, their color a seafoam green.

All around you, everyone else is chatting away and ordering another drink or poking around their salads. The restaurant is alive with clattering silverware and popping corks and the live orchestra set up in the corner.

The food has been incredible: artichoke hearts breaded in sourdough and and crumbled with feta, gruyere fondue with broccoli sauteed in garlic and and butter, cobb salad with prosciutto and soft boiled eggs, decadent filet mignon with a mushroom creme.

Rooster watches you take the first bite of your filet, your jaw flexing as you chew. Everyone else--Coyote, Phoenix, Hangman, Fanboy, Payback--is so used to this kind of luxury. This nice cut of steak, this expensive wine, this rich cheese. But you aren’t. This is all new to you still. And the way your eyes are alight with unadulterated joy, the way your lips quiver with every moment the steak is between your molars--Rooster can see it. He can see how unfamiliar this all is.

“Whatcha think, baby?” Rooster asks.

You didn’t realize that he was watching you, but when you look up and across the table, when you see his whiskey-colored eyes crinkled with joy as he watches you chew--you sigh. The world doesn’t push down on you so heavily when he’s looking at you.

Carefully, you pat your mouth with an expensive napkin and reach across the table, taking Rooster’s hand. He strokes your skin, still grinning at you, and wishes that you were perched right on his lap instead of across from him.

“That’s the second-best steak I’ve ever had,” you tell him.

He scoffs.

“Second-best? Don’t break my heart and tell me the best steak you’ve ever had was in Nebraska, kid. Not a chance.”

You shake your head, laughing. Your hair tickles your naked shoulders when you move, a delicate and soft feeling that makes your chest warm.

Rooster lets his eyes fall to the soft slope of your shoulders, the elegant point where your throat gives into anatomy and becomes your collarbones. Your skin practically glows in the light of the restaurant, effervescent. You have your hair pulled up and it’s been falling all night--but it’s fallen so perfectly that it looks purposeful. Tendrils of your soft hair decorate your cheeks and forehead, giving you a very soft and sweet look even with the dark eyeshadow on your lids and the gloss on your lips.

“Well, don’t bogart this best steak,” Rooster says, leaning forward. “What’s the skinny?”

You lean forward, too, setting your cutlery on your plate politely.

“It was at this little place in L.A.. God, it’s really the shit, you know? View of the Hollywood sign, a pool, a tiki bar,” you list, squeezing his hand. “The chef’s, like, super hands-on, too. He was a good lay. Well, anyway, he made the best steak I’ve ever had. Cooked it up real nice, medium, wearing an ugly Hawaiian shirt and no shoes.”

Rooster chews a smirk.

“No apron and no shoes?” He asks. “That’s two health code violations, kid.”

You grin back, your lashes fluttering against your rosy cheeks.

“Cry about it,” you tease.

“What’re we crying about?” Hangman asks, throwing his arm over your shoulders.

You lean into him, grinning, resting your head against his. He fingers the silk dress you’re wearing, pressing a lewd kiss to your forehead. Rooster wishes you were perched on his lap fervently.

“I’ve got nothing to cry about,” you tell Jake, smoothing your gown and winking at Rooster. “How about you, Cowboy?”

Hangman likes that you call him Cowboy. He’s been called Hangman for so long--which is still a nickname he loves, one that tells everyone who utters it just how well-endowed he is--that he sometimes forgets that he can be something else.

“How could I cry when I’ve got you on my arm, honey?” Jake lips, kissing your cheek again.

“I’ll tell you what I’m gonna cry about,” Fanboy pipes up, lips pursed. He’s nursing a martini, his silk shirt almost entirely unbuttoned and exposing the manicured curls across his chest. “Dennis only giving me six fucking films for the entire year. The entire year!”

“What?” Rooster asks, brows furrowed. He takes another sip of his Tom Collins then sits back in his seat, crossing his arms. “That’s bogue.”

“Totally bogue,” Bob agrees. “What, like, boy on boy isn’t popular anymore?”

Fanboy rolls his eyes.

“Exactly,” Fanboy agrees. He finishes his marini and flags down one of the waiters. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m a pioneer in my genre.”

“Well, that isn’t an opinion,” Phoenix says with a sigh, touching her lipstick up in her pocket mirror. “It’s a fact, honey.” She snaps the compact shut and puckers her lips.

“I mean, shit, I’ve got some jobs you can take,” Coyote laughs. He is ferociously cutting into his steak, shaking his head with his eyes wide. “I’m gonna be dehydrated by February at the rate I’m going. You dig?”

“Everyone digs,” Phoenix says, rolling her eyes. “Can’t have more shoots than Rooster, though. Right?”

Rooster is absently stroking his mustache, humming.

“Not necessarily,” he says softly, shrugging.

“Well, how many films you got this year, man?” Payback asks. “Dennis stiff you?”

“No,” Rooster answers. Dennis is a lot of things--but he isn’t stupid. And it would be stupid if Dennis were to stiff Rooster. “He knows better than that.”

“How many, then?” Fanboy asks. He’s smoking a cigarette now, his leg bouncing.

“Ten,” Rooster answers.

You’re tickled. You have more than ten. You have more than Rooster Bradshaw--who’s the biggest and the best in the business. It makes your stomach turn with a precarious sort of excitement.

“Christ,” Coyote says, sighing. “I haven’t had ten since I was a rookie.”

Everyone echoes some sort of murmured agreement, the air thick with cigarette smoke. Your spine prickles. Shit. You have more films than everyone here--Rooster and Hangman already know that.

You’re afraid, suddenly, that these people will not like you if they know this about you. You don’t want anyone to think that you’re taking their jobs, fast tracking the demise of their careers. Jesus--fear slinks up your legs and presses down into your thighs. You like these people, you’re friends with these people, you’re breaking bread with these people. You don’t want to be in this industry without them.

Jake can feel it when your thighs clench, can feel it when your spine stiffens.

“Wanna step outside for a second, honey?” Jake says quietly in your ear. He needs another bump anyway.

“Yeah,” you tell him. “Say, got a mint?”

Jake grins at you.

“Always.”

Rooster watches the two of you walk out together, your dress clinging to your body. Jake’s hand is resting on your ass, just high up enough for it to not be considered rude in this nice of a restaurant. He knows what you two are going to do outside, which is what you two slink off together and do in bathrooms and bedrooms. It makes his palms sweat, but he doesn’t move to stop it. How could he?

It’s not hot in the restaurant, but it’s stuffy--and your face is flushed at the thought of everyone inside asking how many movies you have been signed on for. The cool evening air is a welcome escape, one that makes your lips part in ecstasy as it prickles your bare arms.

Cars are zooming past, their engines purring and their horns wailing. There are people laughing on the sidewalk and holding hands and singing songs. Heels clack against the pavement as people swiftly pass you, not batting an eye in your direction.

You don’t know this yet, but soon you won’t be able to stand on the sidewalk without people looking at you. Men, especially ones walking with their wives or girlfriends, will stare but will not be brave enough to approach you. They’ll pretend they know you from work or school if their wives catch their gazes lingering on you. They will think about the color of your nipples and the way your back arches and the noises you make when you suck cock, but they won’t say anything to you. You almost prefer it when people say something, when they’re brave enough. Because in a few months time, you will live in a fishbowl. You will be lonely even when everyone in the room is looking at you.

Jake is still holding onto you, humming softly as he tugs you over to the brick siding of the restaurant. He tugs the mints container out of his pocket and smiles at you. He thinks you look beautiful tonight, all done up with that eyeshadow and that dress.

“Have you graduated to sniffer?” He asks, eyebrow perched.

You hum, shaking your head. You will rarely pass up an opportunity to have Jake’s fingers in your mouth.

“Nope,” you say, hooking your fingers in the belt loops of his corduroys. “Gonna need your help.”

This pleases Jake. He doesn’t even check behind him anymore before he takes a bump--everyone does cocaine. Everyone and their mama does cocaine in Los Angeles. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about it anymore.

Once he’s snorted it off his thumb, he dips his finger against his tongue and then presses it into the powder before bringing it up to your lips.

“Careful,” you say quietly, tucking his hair behind his ears. Your eyes are glowing in the low light of the evening. “Don’t smudge my gloss.”

“I’d rather die,” Jake says simply.

Then he slides his fingers against your gums, makes sure to spread it around.

Your heart is racing already, just in anticipation of the high. It’ll be a few minutes, you know. But you don’t mind. You don’t mind at all. Just sitting here with Jake, outside against the cool brick--that’s enough for you.

Jake snaps the container shut and stuffs it back in his pocket, giving you a quick kiss before settling in beside you against the brick. The two of you quietly watch the cars go by for a few minutes, holding hands, waiting to feel it.

But there’s something choking Jake now. You’re stroking his hand, humming to yourself, letting the butter melt on your tongue. And he thinks--maybe because he’s high or maybe because you seem to have a peculiar way of subduing him--that you are a good person. He hasn’t known you for very long, but he knows that the heart that sits in your chest is a good one. You’re kind and you’re bright, bubbly. But it took time for him to understand about you, hours. With Gentry, it took weeks. You’re like Gentry, though. Gentry was just someone that Jake knew was a good person--not right away, the very first time he saw him at the canteen.

“What’s up, Cowboy?” You ask.

You’re looking at him now, your cheek pressed against your shoulder.

He shakes his head, biting his lip.

“You remind me of someone,” he says softly.

You swallow, your lips tingling.

“Who?” You ask.

But you already know. You’ve thought about it a lot, that first night you met Jake when he told you about the only man he ever loved. When you anchored yourself on his body and let him sleep.

“Gentry,” he answers. He sniffles, wipes his nose. He’s tapping his fingers against yours rhythmically. “Not that you’re, like, manly or anything. Ain’t like that. I just like you is all.”

“Everyone likes me,” you tease. But it is true--everyone does like you.

He laughs shortly.

“Yeah, but I don’t like everyone,” he sighs. “You dig?”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows hard.

“Yeah, I can dig it,” you say quietly. “So, what did you like about him?”

Jake laughs again, grinning. His face feels good--cold and soft.

“He was stand-offish,” he answers. “Always had something to say, you know? Didn’t seem scared. Like, we were all fucking scared. Middle of the fucking jungle, barely old enough to drink. Half of us wanted to book it. The other half were just bugged out. And Gentry was just, like, chilled. He didn’t seem scared. Not ever. Not really.”

Blood is rushing through your ears now, but you hear every word Jake says.

“And you think I’m chill and stand off-ish, huh?” You ask.

You squeeze his hand.

“No,” Jake says, sighing. “No, I don’t think you’re stand-offish. I think you’re just--I guess I think you’re just, like, fearless. Like, when I met you and you were just taking a skinny dip in Rooster’s pool--you didn’t give a fuck that I was there. Jesus, you didn’t shy away from anything. You keep it real, Cherry. So did Gentry.”

With pink tickling your cheeks, you move closer to Jake and let your head rest on his shoulder. He smells like patchouli, which is a scent you’ve grown to like. His shirt is soft against your cheek, his skin warm.

“What was it like when you met him? Tell me about the first time.”

He’s never told another soul this. It hasn’t even occurred to him before this precise moment that he hasn’t recounted the story out loud to anyone. But now you’re here and your cheek is warm against his arm and you smell like sugar and he feels like it’s okay to talk about it.

“I cut my hand on a piece of metal. Gnarly cut, bleeding everywhere. We were in the fucking boonies and it was hot and muddy. Everyone was sweating, there were bugs everywhere, it smelled like piss. So, I walk up to the canteen to ask for a bandage,” Jake explains. When he talks about the cut, it starts to burn; that seam that he opened up all those years ago on that sheet of metal, the one that poured out enough blood to make the flies swarm in thick waves. It’s cold outside, but he feels the perspiration on the back of his neck like he’s back there again. “Hadn’t been there for more than a month. I looked new, you know? Like, not as dirty and tired. Got a lot of shit for it from the other dudes in my battalion. So, I ask the little guy with the dark hair working the canteen if I can be bandaged up.”

Jake chuckles softly, remembering. God, what a pesky thing memory is. It makes him feel like Gentry is still alive somewhere, on some plane. How can he remember him so clearly if he isn’t living, breathing?

“Well, what happened?” You press. You’re grinning, watching Jake’s glassy eyes.

“The asshole grabbed my hand, looked at the wound, told me he wasn’t gonna give me a bandage for a pussy cut. Then he fucking licked it--just, like, licked the cut and the blood and dirt. Spit on it. Told me to get lost,” Jake muses, shaking his head. “I was grossed out. But it stopped the bleeding, which was why he did it.”

“That’s trippy,” you laugh, wrinkling your nose. “And then, what? You fell in love just like that?”

Jake shakes his head. He can see Gentry’s eyes if he thinks hard enough--the way they watched him, the way they were always narrowed.

“I hated him before I loved him,” Jake answers. He tuts, pressing the toe of his shoe against the concrete. “He was gung ho. Knew what he was doing. Liked it. Not the ugly parts, you know, but like the rest of it. He was good at everything. Bastard. We were humping the boonies once and we came up on this hamlet--it was evacuated, deserted. So, we set up camp. Gentry and I ended up in the same hut. He found a bottle of snake wine hidden in one of the rooms, like it was waiting for us or something.”

The glow of the lantern of the little kitchen table, the overturned chairs, the strewn linens. He can remember Gentry emerging from the bedroom, his rifle slung over his shoulder, with a shit-eating grin on his face. He remembers still feeling so guarded around Gentry, stuck on the pussy cut comment. And he remembers that Gentry didn’t care--didn’t even really remember.

“We drank about half of it. Drank ourselves dumb,” Jake says quietly. He can still remember the taste of it on his tongue, how bitter it was. “He asked why I was giving him the hairy eyeball. I told him it was because of the cut. God, that fucking dick, he didn’t even remember doing that. Like, he was always just so brash with everyone that it didn’t even stick with him. So I showed him the cut on my hand again. You know, just to prove it. And--!”

Jake chokes for a moment, overwhelmed. You hold onto his hand tightly, nuzzling your face against his arm.

He clears his throat.

“He told me it was a pussy cut and I tried to pull my hand away, but he wouldn’t let me. Just held onto it too tight. And then he kissed it--you know, the way parents are supposed to when you fall off the fuckin’ monkey bars?” Jake can remember exactly how warm Gentry’s lips were against his hand, exactly how terrified and intoxicated he was. And how he did not want to move a muscle. “Scared me. Still scares me to think about. I was just some fucking kid from Texas and, you know, down there--folks aren’t friendly about that. Boys kissing boys. But I didn’t move. Didn’t want to. Couldn’t.”

They made love that night. Jake was scared, but only for a few minutes. It felt like an entirely different world he was in the next morning--one he had never even pondered, one he had never expected to stumble upon.

“And then you fell in love?” Your voice sounds small.

Jake nods.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Yeah, we did fall in love. Like a couple of fuckin’ idiots.”

“What’s idiotic about falling in love?”

“War is Hell,” Jake says quietly. He sniffles, wrinkles his nose.

That’s all he says.

“Is love Hell?” You’re asking genuinely--you don’t know.

Jake bites his lip hard. He thinks about Gentry’s laugh--that hard-to-earn, brash, unhurried thing.

“No,” he answers.

That’s all he says.

You stand there for a long time, nuzzling your face against Jake’s arm. You just breathe together, watch the cars go by, watch the headlights flood the busy street. You’re not thinking about the food that’s waiting or the company that’s missing you. You’re just high and standing together, soaking in the present state of the world.

“Cherry?”

You hum.

“Why’d you get sent away?”

You’ve been waiting for someone to ask. You know Rooster wants to. You know he’s too polite to ask for the entire story, that he would never want to overstep. But that’s the difference between Jake and Rooster--Rooster is afraid of the placement of his feet on the earth that he walks upon and Jake likes the way the ground shakes when he walks hard.

“Got caught,” you start softly. You sigh, letting your lungs deflate, letting your shoulders slope. “My brother caught me, the jerk.”

“Got caught doing what?”

“Doing who,” you correct. “John Duke. We just saw a picture and he was dropping me back off on the farm. I don’t know why, but he put his hand under my skirt when we were in the driveway. Made me cum, which he hadn’t ever done before.”

Jake is looking at you now, memorizing the slope of your lips when you frown.

“And they kicked you off the farm for that?”

Laughter punctures the air softly. You lean into Jake further, shaking your head.

“I’m probably the only broad in western Nebraska that’s ever cum,” you breathe, shaking your head. “But my brother, I don’t know if he was out doing barn chores or if he was waiting on me to come home, but he saw what we were doing in the truck. Ripped the door open, pulled me out.”

The ground was frozen when you fell upon it, your skirt pooled by your hips and your eyes squeezed shut tight. Your orgasm was ruined, the frigid air pinching your calves and the tip of your nose.

“Chased John off, not that it took much. Dragged me into the house. Woke my mama and daddy up, told them everything.”

“Jesus,” Jake mutters, biting his lip. “What’d they do?”

“Mama cried. Daddy wouldn’t look at me. My brother, Carlton, was an animal. Screaming, hollering. Punched a hole into the wall by my head when I wouldn’t say sorry.”

You wouldn’t say sorry--that’s what made your brother so angry. You were not sorry at all, not sorry about cumming, not sorry about fucking John Duke. You were thoroughly unapologetic.

“He wanted you to say sorry? For what? Cumming?” Jake scoffs.

In an abstract way, you think that, yes, he did want you to say sorry for cumming. It’s not what respectable young girls do--not in cars, not in skirts, not in the driveway of your parents home.

“Sure,” you answer. “And making my mama upset.”

“What’d your mama do?”

You look down at your heels--these shiny and expensive things that hold you up higher in the world and sculpt your calves.

“Spit on my shoes,” you answer. She had never looked uglier to you than when she did that, her face twisted and her cheeks red and her hair frizzy. “They were ugly things, anyway. Left them at my aunt’s house.”

Jake can’t imagine it, really. He can’t imagine someone looking at you in the throes of an orgasm and being filled with venom. He can’t imagine gazing upon your beauty, the kind of beauty that is just there and keeps growing the longer someone looks at you, and hating you.

“Well,” Jake starts. He crouches down suddenly, presses against your belly until you’re flat against the brick wall. You grin down at him as he pulls your leg and lets your heel rest against his shoulder. He strokes your calf, biting his lip. “Now you’re here and your mama’s shoveling chicken shit.”

Your lips tingle.

“Karma, right?” You breathe.

Your mama’s gonna shovel chicken shit until she dies.

Jake kisses your ankle.

“Right.”

You pull him up and wrap your arms around him. The two of you stand there for a few seconds, just embracing. You’re so glad that you know him, so glad that you’re high and standing outside this restaurant with him. You really do love him--you love everyone.

But then Jake kisses the top of your head a few times, grinning, sighing. He squeezes you, letting the weight of the conversation roll off his back.

“Wanna know what they call a new soldier? The one that ain’t seen nothing yet?”

You two start for the door, your cheek still pressed against his body.

“What?” You ask, smiling.

“Cherry,” he answers.

He holds your hand. And when you begin to feel around for the scar, that seam, he feels it. But he doesn’t say anything. He lets you find it. It feels good to be stroked by gentle fingers.

When you come back into the restaurant, you come up behind Bob and pepper a few exuberant kisses across his pale pink cheeks and wrap your arms around his shoulders. Bob is surprised, but he’s grinning as he holds onto your forearms. He’s overwhelmed by your sweet scent, overwhelmed with your kisses and your touch.

“Baby, let’s order another round,” you sigh into Bob’s skin. He smells very clean--like he’s only just stepped out of a shower and into your arms. “As your resolution officer and confidant, I must insist. You jive with that?”

Bob nods, grinning.

Rooster watches from his spot, smoking a cigar now. It’s peculiar, really. He likes watching you love up on other people, especially friends. He feels like you were the world’s best kept secret, holed up in some landlocked state. You’re where you belong, spreading all that love. But still, even if he feels like you should be doing this, he wishes it were him you were wrapped around. He wants to be the one you’re kissing and hugging, the one you’re breathing into.

Jake settles in across from Rooster, his pupils blown.

When they catch each other’s gazes, Jake’s brows knit slightly.

“What?” He asks,

Rooster shrugs, taking a long drag.

“Nothing,” Rooster says.

Jake settled into his seat, tearing a piece of bread and throwing it in his mouth.

“You look like you wanna say something,” Jake insists.

Rooster shakes his head.

Jake glances at you; you’re still wrapped around Bob, smothering him with love as a waiter writes down your drink orders. Bob looks delighted and terrified.

“We’ve gotta take care of her, man,” Jake says. He isn’t sure that Rooster has heard him at first--he isn’t really sure if he wants Rooster to hear him. “She’s our people now.”

But he does. And he knows. He knows that they have to take care of you.

“I know,” Rooster says.

It’s late whenever you get home, Rooster and Jake following behind you as you walk into the house. You’re all a bit drunk now, giggly and handsy. Everything feels soft and bleary, very good and very exciting.

“Cocktails?” Bradley asks, watching you kick off your heels and float to the turntable.

“Heavy on the cock,” you tease.

“Heavy on the tail,” Jake follows, smacking your rear as he passes you on his way to flop down on the couch.

The night passes on seamlessly. Records spin and cocktails flow. You play card games and take a few puffs of Rooster’s cigar, let Jake rub some more coke on your gums. Rooster feels good, loose--but he won’t take a bump, even when you stick your bottom lip out and beg. He won’t slip back into that, won’t put himself back in that place. And he wants to stay an inkling more sober than you, wants to have only a bit of a clearer mind, in case you need something. In case you need anything--even if it’s just to lay your head on his lap and have him stroke your hair.

It’s nearly two in the morning now.

The house is lit a warm orange, casting a grainy glow over everything that is precious: the tufted sofa, the expensive coffee table, the empty cocktail glasses, the playing cards strewn about, the woven rug.

Last Dance by Donna Summer is spinning on the record table now and you’re dancing with Jake, after he sprang to his feet and tugged you to your feet. Rooster is sunken into the sofa, still nursing a beer, his eyes half-lidded as he watches you grind against Jake.

You’re in a state of ecstasy, really--every nerve in your body is glowing with excitement, your belly sloshing with alcohol and coke coursing through your veins. Your hair is wild and your eyes are wide and your lips are parted. Every breath that you breathe is sitting between a moan and laughter, the good kind that makes your ribs ache.

“I think we’re the best boogiers in Los Angeles,” you breathe out, grinning. Your back is pressed against Jake’s front and your arms are above you as Jake firmly holds onto your hips and guides your rear against his crotch. “Rooster, aren’t we the greatest dancers in California?”

Rooster’s chest is tight watching your breasts bounce in your slinky dress.

He swallows hard.

“Sure are, kid,” he answers.

“Tell me you love me,” you whimper to Jake, eyes screwed shut.

“I love you, Cherry-berry,” Jake says breathlessly. He’s hard--he knows you can feel it. He moves to spread his hand across your lower belly, letting the flat of his palm grip you there. He tugs you against him and the two of you are impossibly closer now. “Fuck, you’re so foxy.”

You’re grinning, still moving, letting the music sink into your eardrums and vibrate the soft, pink parts of your brain. You swear that even the music is tickling a part of you that you once thought only men could.

“Rooster,” you moan, letting your head lull until your heavy eyes are gazing upon Rooster on the sofa. He’s sitting there, all broad and bleary-eyed, his legs spread and his palm over his hardening cock. “Tell me you love me.”

Jake hastily pushes the wispy hair from your throat and starts pressing fiery kisses along all that sensitive, delicate skin. When a broken moan tumbles from your lips, the sound vibrates Rooster’s cock. Fuck, he’s fully hard now.

“Tell her you love her, man,” Jake insists, nibbling your throat. “She deserves it, huh? Sweet thing like her.”

You bury your fingers in Jake’s shaggy locks, tugging softly. As quickly as he can, being as drunk as he is, he grabs all the fabric of your dress and hikes it up until it’s pinned at your hips. Then he dips his fingers between your legs and lets his two middle fingers press against your mound through the red lace panties you have on.

“Fuck,” Rooster grunts, mouth watering at the very sight of your thighs. He knows what that precious flesh feels like beneath his mouth, his hands, his tongue. He wants it now, but he can’t move from his spot. He’s stuck still, watching Jake touch you. “I love you, kid.”

You’re moaning now, mewling. And it isn’t just because Jake is rubbing you just right through your panties, but because Rooster loves you. Yes, he loves you and you love him. You feel perfect and the music is just right and everyone loves you and you love everyone.

Jake, who’s panting against your throat, suddenly bends down and steadies you with his hands on your hips when you stumble. He rips your panties off your legs, helps you step out of them, then throws them behind him without a second thought. They land unceremoniously on some of the playing cards strewn about the table.

Rooster’s throat is dry, his cock straining against his trousers. Fuck. It’s torturous watching this--but it feels so good, too. He knows, somehow, that he’ll have a turn with you. You never forget about him.

But since you’re occupied right now, Rooster fists the panties in his hands, holds them close. He can feel how wet you are, how much you dripped in your underwear.

Jake unzips your dress and you shimmy out of it, leaving the orange paisley thing in a heap before you. You’re totally naked now, still moving your body along to the music, grinning, moaning when Jake starts to feverishly press kisses along the supple kiss of your ass.

Rooster’s heart is racing. You look like an angel--naked, basked in an orange glow.

“Turn around,” Jake commands.

You do as you’re told, still grinning.

And without further ado, Jake hikes your leg over his shoulder and buries his face in your cunt. He devours you truly--lapping at your folds and sucking and nipping the sensitive bud nestled at the top of your cunt like he didn’t just have a four course meal. It’s almost forceful, the pleasure that washes over your body. It immediately reddens the skin of your chest and throat.

“How wet are you, baby?” Rooster asks.

He unbuttons his pants, breath quivering as he lets his hand slip into his pants. He’s throbbing--for you. Fuck, he feels like he’s back in high school, like you’re some girl he has a little crush on.

With your hands buried in Jake’s hair and your head tipped all the way back, you moan your response to Rooster and let it echo through the cavernous house.

“I’m so fucking wet, Roo.”

Just your name falling from your bitten lips sends his hands straight into his briefs. God, he hasn’t touched himself like this in a long time. He doesn’t need to masturbate, not when his job is literally fucking. He usually doesn’t even allow himself this, wants to save it all for the camera, but fuck. He feels like he can’t even control himself right now. He palms himself, sinking his teeth into his lower lip, his chest growing warm.

Jake is moaning against you, wrapping his arms around you, cupping your cheeks, and pulling you flush against his flat tongue. He feels like he could do this forever--lap your nectar, touch your skin, bury his fingers in your ass.

“Fuck,” you whine, grinding yourself against Jake’s lips. “Feels so good, cowboy. Fuck, keep going.”

Rooster quickly brings his hand to his mouth, spits, then lets it slide back into his pants. His cock is painfully hard--hot to the touch. And as he watches your face flush with pleasure, as you cry out and press your hips against Jake’s mouth. You want to be as close as close can be and he wants you as close as you can get.

But you hear a noise--a small strangled one. And you turn and there is Rooster, that big and beautiful man, touching himself at the very sight of another man getting you off. His lips are parted and his eyes are hooded and he’s slowly pumping himself, his pants still on.

“C’mere, baby,” you insist, nodding towards him. “I’ll take care of you.”

And dammit if Rooster doesn’t feel like he’s floating as he stands up from the sofa and comes behind you. You’re kissing him immediately, moaning into his mouth as his cock presses against your rear. His tongue is in your mouth and he tastes like beer and you taste like orange juice.

You let your hand fall to his cock, languidly palming him through his pants, still gasping and moaning as Jake sucks your clit. And before you even really know what’s happening, Rooster is snaking his hand between your thighs and pressing two fingers inside you. You’re wet, maybe wetter than you’ve ever been, and he slides into you with ease. Jake doesn’t mind--just holds you tighter and focuses on your clit and his own throbbing cock.

“Oh, fuck,” you curse against Rooster’s mouth. “Mmm, Roo. Oh.”

He feels like this is what his fingers were made for--dipping into your cunt, being coated in your click, forcing those little mewls from your pretty mouth. And you feel like your hand was made for his cock, made for wrapping around it and pumping, made for inspiring sweat on Rooster’s hairline.

“We gonna make you cum, baby?” Rooster asks breathlessly.

He cups your chin, holds your throat in place so he can kiss it. He’s still pumping his fingers inside you, curling them, letting his bicep rest against your back.

“Please,” you babble, swallowing dryly. “Fucking make me cum.”

Hangman pulls away for just a second, just long enough to nibble your thighs and dig his fingers into your flesh.

“Manners,” he pants.

“Please,” you squeak. “Please, please, please.”

They both know you mean it, too. You’re desperate.

That only inspires them to move quicker, with more haste.

And a few moments later, with Rooster holding your throat and fucking you with his thick fingers and Jake gripping your hips and mercilessly sucking your clit, you’re thrown into the throes of an overpowering orgasm. It’s the kind that makes your entire body convulse and shiver, the kind that renders you helpless against the intense beams of pleasure that puncture your skin.

Once they see that you’ve had enough, that you’re dangerously close to being overstimulated, they stop. Jake kisses your thighs roughly, making quick work of unbuttoning his pants and ripping off his shirt.

But Rooster is still kissing your mouth, stroking your throat lightly as he anchors himself against your hip. He can’t get enough of you--sweet, sweet Cherry. He loves the way your tongue moves against his, the way you’re letting your weight rest against him. He’s holding you up--your legs are quivering. He’s got you. You know it and so does he.

“Y’alright, kid?” He asks, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours.

Your hand, still wrapped around his cock, hasn’t ceased in its gentle pumps. You nod, swallowing hard. The very lining of your belly is quivering, quaking.

“She’s perfect,” Jake says, naked now. He kisses each of your knees and then buries his face in your belly. “Right, honey?”

You hum, nodding again.

There’s no conversation about how it’s going to happen: it just does.

Jake lays flat on his back on the woven rug, his mind spinning and his jaw aching. You hover him, kissing his thighs feverishly and digging your manicured nails into the meat of his legs. He’s already gasping, his chest heaving. Beautiful, shiny beads of precum dribble from the swollen head of his cock as you tease him and puff warm breaths onto him.

You like seeing him like this--all worked up, his mustache mussed by your wetness. He’s grabbing fistfuls of the carpet and peering down at you, pupils blown, waiting for your mouth to meet his cock.

“Fuck, don’t be a tease,” Jake hisses. “Please, baby, I’m hurtin’ over here.”

And Rooster is behind you, letting his palm follow the curve of your spine as he pumps himself a few times. You’re fucking beautiful--so beautiful that he almost came through his pants just listening to you cum. But he’s lucky--he is the one that gets to bury himself in you, the one that gets to spill himself deep inside of you.

You lower your mouth onto Jake’s cock and finally--finally--he has a bit of relief. He’s so worked up that he thinks he might shoot his load right away, directly down your throat. But he holds off, groaning, screwing his eyes shut. Your tongue is warm and flat, flicking against the sensitive skin on the underside of his cock, as you coat him in saliva.

“Oh, Cherry,” Jake mutters, bucking his hips up and into your mouth.

That’s the precise moment that Rooster presses into you. It’s slow, grueling--he takes his time, makes sure you feel every single inch of his thick cock as he glides into your body. And just like always, he feels like you’re made for him. You take him so easily, welcome him into your body, let his cock bury itself deep inside of you.

“Taking me so well, baby,” Rooster mutters, holding the bend of your hips as he bottoms out. You moan, your throat constricting around Jake’s cock. Jake curses, bites down hard on his knuckle. “That’s it.”

Rooster stays still, just letting you squeeze him, letting you get used to his size. You’re so wet that you feel like you’re going to start dripping onto the carpet, so wet that you feel like you might just turn inside out.

If your mouth wasn’t full of cock, you would beg Rooster to move. The way he’s filling you up, the way his thumbs are rubbing precious little circles on the surface of your skin, you feel like you aren’t gonna last.

But you keep bobbing your head, keep sucking Jake’s cock as he moans and sighs above you. Pink has spread across his chest and he’s puffing out his breaths in short, labored tufts.

“Feel so good, baby,” Rooster croons softly.

He leans down, lets his chest rest on your back. He’s warm, his chest expansive, and the heaviness of his body is a welcome one. He’s lulled to a steady peace by your movements, letting his lips come down on your shoulders again and again in tender kisses.

Then he moves. Just soft, slow movements. He barely pulls out, keeping his arms wrapped around your middle, as he rocks himself into you. He stays close, keeps his lips against you. And when you tense around him, when you moan around Jake’s cock, all three of you hiss with pleasure.

“Shit,” Jake groans. “Oh, fuck, keep doing whatever you’re doing, man. Feels fucking great when she moans.”

You moan again and Jake throws his head back, tangling his hands in your hair.

Rooster is still fucking you slowly, his chest hollowed out with pure pleasure. Jesus, he feels like he’s on another planet right now.

You’re moaning, crying out, still sucking Jake off.

Jake is close to the edge already, gasps dying in his throat as he steadily begins to thrust himself further into your mouth. Drool is pouring out of your mouth and tears are pouring down your face.

But what sends him over the edge is when you choke, when your mouth is tight around him and you cough as he hits the soft flesh of your throat.

“Oh, fuck,” Jake mutters, voice thin. “I’m gonna cum, baby.”

He does cum, crying out, eyes squeezed shut. He spurts down your throat, bitter and hot, and you swallow every single drop of it. And when he’s coming down, when you’re taking your mouth away from his cock, he holds your cheeks.

“Good job, baby,” he tells you. He strokes your hair as you cry out, Rooster still steadily pounding into you with precise flicks of his hips. “Oh, you’re doing her just right, Rooster. Can’t hardly speak.”

Your eyes are shut tight, your toes curling. You’re overwhelmed with pleasure, like it’s raining down on you from all directions. You can hardly breathe as Rooster suckles on your skin.

“Doing so good, baby,” Rooster encourages, voice quivering. He’s approaching his high, too, trying to keep his pace from faltering. “Think you can cum again, Cherry. Think I can get you there.”

Wordlessly, Jake slinks down until his mouth is on yours. You’re open-mouthed kissing now, tasting yourself on his tongue, whimpering. He’s holding onto your hair still, pulling very softly, keeping you close to him.

As Rooster lets one of his hands snake between your legs again, his fingers swirling on your swollen bud, your entire body tenses. Jake keeps kissing you, keeps pulling your hair. And then he starts tweaking your nipple, cupping your breast in his palms.

“I’m gonna cum,” you say, legs quaking. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You’re gasping, sobbing out.

“Give it to me, baby,” Rooster whispers, voice gruff. He kisses the back of your neck, jaw tense as his own orgasm creeps up his spine. “C’mon, Cherry. Cum on my cock, baby. GIve it to me.”

You do--you can’t take it anymore. With a sheen of sweat covering your naked body, you cum for the second time with both Bradley and Jake stimulating you. It’s more overpowering than your last orgasm--the kind that makes your legs clamp shut, the kind that sends your body into a rigid sort of shock. You go blind and deaf for a few moments, honing back in on the present as Rooster’s thrusts become sloppy before he finishes inside you, buried deep.

As you pant, Rooster collapses on your back and Jake combs his fingers through your hair softly, you swear that you hear angels singing.

But, really, it’s just Donna Summer.

Rooster can hardly breathe as he lays on your back, his mind reeling. That’s the best sex he’s ever had in his life--and the first threesome he’s ever had off-camera.

Jake is laughing softly, watching you recover. There are tears pouring down your face, all born from white-hot pleasure. Little flakes of mascara are running down your flushed cheeks. Tenderly, he thumbs them away.

You nuzzle yourself against Jake’s palm, trying to slow your breathing.

“You okay, kid?” Rooster asks, squeezing your hips.

You swallow hard, a smile tugging at your lips.

“More than,” you answer. “I’m perfect.”

☿ 𝐚/𝐧: okay sorry for going so fucking ham on the Gentry/Jake thing but I just saw it so clearly in my brain and had to write it out and break my own heart!!???!? sorry love you guys so much!! your comments/reblogs literally make me so happy!!!

☿ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

☿ 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠

☿ 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐳-𝐕𝐨𝐮𝐬

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midnightshade · 2 months

Text

🏮 𝐀 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 🏮 | Kenjaku's reaction to seeing you in lingerie

𖤐 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,603

𖤐 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Female Reader, Reader has a pussy, Third-Person POV, not beta read, biting to draw blood, creampie, light choking, slight breeding kink

𖤐 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: N/A

𖤐 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

"I'll be back soon."

A lone woman walked through the streets of Tokyo, tucking her phone back into her pocket as the call ended. To anyone else on the street, she was a normal woman. In reality, she was anything but.

She was centuries old despite her youthful appearance, but then, this wasn't her original body. Coming from the Kamakura era, she had only managed to cheat death with the aid of one man.

Kenjaku.

Ever since the two of them met, she had been faithfully serving as his assistant. He liked her enough to continue bringing her back from death, using the bodies of others as suitable vessels.

It never bothered her, knowing that someone else had to die for her to come back. She refused to feel guilty about living and she was thankful to Kenjaku for the continued gift of life.

For centuries, she had been loyal to him, not out of obligation, but out of want. He made life interesting; she enjoyed his company.

She loved him.

Staying with Kenjaku, making him happy – It was enough for her.

The crowd carried her with them through the busy streets like the current of a river, and she allowed herself to be pulled along. She took the time to sightsee, looking around at all the different shops and stalls from clothing stores to arcades and food stands.

Occasionally, she would pop in and browse the selections, but none seemed to catch her eye today. . .except for one.

She stumbled over her own feet, nearly colliding with a man in front of her. Quickly regaining her balance, she pushed her way out of the crowd and towards the shop.

It was small and easy to miss, tucked away between two larger buildings. The face of the building was styled like a traditional Japanese minka house, and the sign was written in ink calligraphy, broadcasting its primary wares: lingerie.

The juxtaposition between this traditional style and the items being sold immediately piqued her interest. She stepped inside, finding the theming on the outside to be consistent with the interior. The shop was designed like a tea room, with clean tatami mats.

She took her shoes off, spotting a place to leave them before continuing inside. There were a variety of different mannequins dressed up in different styles of lingerie.

A worker spotted her, coming over to greet her and welcome her into the store with a polite bow. "Hello! May I help you today? Looking for anything in particular?"

As she examined the store, a mischievous idea began to form in her mind. She walked over to one of the mannequins, examining the high quality material it was dressed in.

"Yes, please. I would appreciate the help."

──────

An artificial night had fallen within Dagon's Domain. The ocean waves lapped at the shore, creating a tranquil atmosphere that stretched towards the Tiki Hut sitting just beyond the treeline.

The building was of modest make, containing only two bedrooms, a kitchenette, and a shower. Curses may not need to sleep or eat, but their human allies did.

One of whom stood within the master bedroom, adjusting her new outfit in front of a full-length mirror.

She admired her form, running her hands up her body and over the red rope that mapped itself across her skin. The lingerie was styled after shibari, made of soft threaded rope that allowed easy access to her bare chest and pussy.

The only thing keeping her modesty was a silken robe overtop, styled loosely after a yukata. It was black with a red floral pattern. Red lace adorned the front, along with red stitching on the seams.

This type of luxury was a rarity for her to indulge in, but it had been a while since she and Kenjaku did something like this. This was as much a surprise gift for him as it had been for her.

The thought of that made her heart skip a beat. Even after centuries spent at his side, it was still so easy to feel like a lovestruck teenager doing these types of things.

The ivory sheets felt cool to the touch as she climbed into the master bed. She closed her eyes, breathing out slowly as she moved her hands down her body, relaxing against the plush surface.

Kenjaku would be back any minute now. His face would be priceless, she was sure of it. She suppressed a giggle, imagining it, as her hands moved down to the in-between on her thighs.

Her giggles died down, turning into soft moans as she spread her folds apart with her fingers. Her cunt clenched around nothing and she bit her lip, already imagining Kenjaku on top of her.

"Fuck. . .Kenjaku," she moaned out, her now trembling fingers beginning to rub at her throbbing clit.

She dipped her fingers down, collecting some of the slick that was beginning to build as her arousal grew, but she didn't get far before she heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

Kenjaku was home.

For a moment, she found herself conflicted. Should she stop now or should she keep going and let him watch?

Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away from her core, sitting up and adjusting her robe so that she was properly covered. Shs was just in time, as the door opened with a silent 'click' just as she finished adjusting her robe.

Kenjaku walked in through the bedroom door. Unlike usual, he was not wearing his Gojo-kesa, instead opting for a pair of black pants and a black shirt.

It's not like it mattered. The vessel he was in now, Suguru Geto, was more than handsome enough to pull off just about any look. Kenjaku's confidence always helped as well.

He paused in the doorway, his eyes immediately landing on her form, sprawled out seductively on the bed.

"Welcome home," she purred. Her voice was dripping in amusement as she watched Kenjaku. She would be lying if she said she didn't feel the slightest bit proud of herself for managing to catch him off guard.

Any trace of surprise was quickly wiped from his face, replaced with his typical self-assured smile that she'd come to love so much.

He walked over to the bed, his eyes never once leaving hers. He stopped in front of her, and his hand came to rest against her cheek. She closed her eyes, immediately leaning into his touch.

"Isn't this a pleasant surprise," he soothed. "What's the occasion?"

At his question, she chuckled and kissed his palm. "Do I need an occasion to surprise you? Maybe I just wanted to show my appreciation."

His hand moved down from her cheek to wrap around her throat. His grip was firm, but not enough to harm her. She gasped, pupils dilating as her skin prickled with anticipation.

He made her look at him, and she clenched her thighs together when she saw his gaze clouded with lust.

"Who am I to deny you, then? If you're so eager to offer yourself up to me, I think I'd like to unwrap my gift."

She breathed out, already feeling heady with anticipation. All she could manage was a small nod, which seemed to be enough as Kenjaku firmly pushed her back against the bed.

The bed sank as Kenjaku climbed into bed with her, not bothering with his own clothing as he loomed over her. He leaned down to catch her lips in a kiss, squeezing a little more firmly as he did.

Kissing Kenjaku was always an event. Whether he was being rough or slow, his kisses were always hungry and filled with passion. He bit at her bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. The sting of pain was welcome, and she opened her mouth to him, allowing his tongue to slip inside her mouth without argument.

As Kenjaku kissed her, his hands began to roam up and down her body, feeling the lace of her robe and groping at her tits through the fabric. She held his face in her palms as she kissed him back with equal passion, moaning even as she tasted her own blood. She nipped playfully at his tongue, arching her back to be closer to him.

Kenjaku began to grind himself against her, and she could feel how hard he was getting already just by kissing her. Feeling coy, she removed one of her hands from his face, rubbing at his clothed erection.

He growled against her lips, breaking the kiss. He stared down at her, lips bruised and bleeding from his bite. His own cheeks were flushed slightly.

He grabbed her wrist, pulling it away from his aching cock. When she whined, he grinned down at her.

"Needy, aren't we? You never were very patient," he teased

She pouted at the accusation. "You're not much better right now. You look like you're about to cum in your pants."

Kenjaku laughed, releasing her wrist. "Maybe we're both a little pent up. These last few weeks have been busy."

He wasn't wrong. With their plans finally so close to starting, the last several weeks had been a whirlwind of activity just ensuring everything would run smoothly. It was as exciting as it was stressful.

They hardly had a moment to themselves anymore.

Her gaze softened slightly as she sat up, reaching to kiss the stitches along his forehead. No matter what body he was in, she only loved him.

"Then use me however you'd like tonight," she whispered, pressing more gentle kisses against the stitching.

Kenjaku shivered at her touch, suppressing a breathy moan. His stitches were always a sensitive spot for him, and the offer of doing whatever he wanted was just too good. His dick throbbed painfully in anticipation.

His eyes immediately went back to her robe, admiring the outfit as he traced the red lace. "This suits you. You should dress like this more often."

She smiled at the compliment, directing his hand to the sash that kept the robe closed. "You haven't even seen the actual outfit yet. I picked it out just for you."

Kenjaku moved her back against the bed, letting her settle down before he finally pulled the knot. He opened the robe, admiring the sight laid out before him.

"Beautiful," he groaned, tracing his hand over her bare skin. He watched as her skin prickled under his touch, as if every cell in her body rose with anticipation to be touched by him.

He looked down, seeing her petals were dripping with her arousal and her cunt was clenching around nothing, desperate to be fucked.

She looked up at him in anticipation, but before Kenjaku gave her what she wanted, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, exposing his muscular chest. The X-shaped scar across his Vessel's chest always caught her eye, and she couldn't help but to reach up and trace it.

Kenjaku hummed at the touch, allowing her to smooth her hand over his skin while he pulled his cock free from the confines of his pants. He sighed in relief as his dick sprung loose, hard and throbbing.

Suguru's body certainly didn't disappoint. The man was a work of art; lithe and muscular like a wild cat with that long, silky black hair she could spend hours playing with. His cock was long and thick, curving gently up with a supple head.

"You really are needy," she teased, watching as pearls of pre-cum dripped down the side of his shaft.

"You're no better," he responded, quickly folding her legs back as he mounted her.

She felt his cockhead nudge against her entrance and she relaxed, feeling him begin to push his way inside of her. Both of them groaned as he slotted himself inside, her velvety soft walls gripping his shaft and sucking him in deeper.

His pelvis met her own when he finally sheathed himself fully inside. Time stood still as they savored this moment, adjusting to the blissful embrace of each other's bodies.

"You always feel so good for me," he said, leaning in and pressing his forehead against hers. "No matter what vessel. This pussy of yours takes me so well."

She grinned shakily, pecking at his lips. "So glad I can make myself useful."

As Kenjaku began to rock his hips, starting a steady rhythm, he hummed and closed his eyes, savoring each blissful drag of her walls against his cock.

"No one else," he muttered, his voice trailing off as he failed to finish the thought, choosing instead to focus on kissing and nipping at her jaw.

She moaned as he began to fuck into her, the room quickly filling with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Her thoughts began to grow fuzzy, lost in the feelings of pleasure he was giving her.

Kenjaku's expression was beautiful, and it struck her that she was the only one lucky enough to see him like this regularly. Mouth parted, eyebrows furrowed, and his pale face dusted a pretty shade of pink.

She would gladly sacrifice her body to him like this any time he asked. This was all she wanted in return – to bring him pleasure and comfort.

Kenjaku's hands held her thighs back against her chest as he properly mounted her, getting more aggressive with his thrusts as his pleasure began to climb.

He smothered her cries with a hungry kiss, forcing his tongue back inside her mouth as he began to jackhammer his hips into hers. His touch was no longer just firm, it was rough.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, gasping into his mouth as his dick throbbed deep inside of her, desperate to fill her with his seed.

His fat cockhead pounded against her cervix as he violently bucked into her, his hips colliding with hers and leaving bruises, proof of his love for her.

Kenjaku's fat balls smacked rhythmically with his thrusts, each time sending sparks of pleasure careening through his body. He moaned, grinding into her with every thrust.

"I should have put a baby in you years ago," he panted against her lips. "I'll have to make up for lost time."

She clenched hard around his shaft, gasping in delight at the thought. Her nails dug into his back as she cried out. "Please! Kenjaku, please. Don't pull out."

He grinned, moving one hand away from her thigh to pull her hair, forcing her to bare her throat. He bit down harshly, leaving a mark as he growled out, "Everyone will know you're mine."

The pleasure reached a fever pitch as they both reached their climax. Her body locked and spasmed as she pulsed around him, sucking him in deeper. Kenjaku breathed in sharply, emptying his balls deep inside of her.

She could feel his dick twitching with every pulse, painting her insides white, and for several moments, they stayed like that, enjoying the comfort of each other's bodies.

When Kenjaku finally let her thighs down, she collapsed onto the bed, totally spent. Her chest heaved with effort, but her entire body felt heavy and relaxed.

Kenjaku didn't pull out, instead opting to pull her on top of him as he laid back against the cool sheets. He pressed soft kisses against her face, petting her hair as he basked in the afterglow.

He rubbed his hand down her back, taking another opportunity to admire the lingerie she had gotten just for him.

He smiled, pulling her closer as she began to drift off, his cock still snuggly slotted inside of her.

"Thank you for this gift."

©Midnightshade. All rights reserved. Do NOT repost, reupload, or modify my works. Do not translate my works, do not link to them or recommend them on other websites, and do not use them for AI training

#kenjaku x reader #jjk reader insert #reader insert #female reader #midnight's grimoire #sin of lust

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spliffymae · 1 year

Text

A FALLEN KING.

synopsis: rafe cameron was the resident king of the kooks. a cocky little shit that had yet to meet his match. until one sola fredericks entered his life.

⚠️swearing, toxicity, violence, slight smut if you squint. lil bit of jjxblack!reader, reader is a badass, rafe is still rafe but tolerable (?)

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there was no doubt that rafe cameron walked around the outer banks like he owned it. didn't matter the territory—kook or pogue, rafe cameron owned it all. he ruled it all, and anyone who would be dumb enough to take it from him had another thing coming.

he was "king of the kooks". and while the name was meant to insult him, he relished in it. to be king of the people, his people. it was a satisfying feeling, warm and jovial. to be a leader, the leader, he couldn't want more.

or so he thought...

sola fredericks was an unexpected surprise, for rafe. the girl he would see at his sister's side all the time with the rest of her dirty pogue friends, he never really paid her any mind.

that is until one night at midsummers, where rafe was in an altercation with one jj maybank.

it stirred up quite the crowd, all young people breaking away from their parents to see the fight, to hear just how ruthless the insults would be.

pope stood behind jj along with john b, while topper and kelce did the same with rafe. it was a show of unity, each one there to support their friend. and god if things got physical, it would be never ending punches and profanities flying.

rafe wore a smirk on his face as he sized up jj, not thinking anything of him. his threats fell on deaf ears, his gaze was merely harmful, rafe was not phased in the slightest. and the pompous attitude he had only got jj hotter, so hot his fist clenched and as he was ready to pull back, to punch rafe first, a hand grabbed at his jaw, the figure standing between the two men.

"yo? i step away for how many seconds and you're gonna risk catching a charge over rafe cameron?" the voice was soft, but aggressive. rafe's eyes shifted from jj to the person between them, it was a girl dressed in the same uniform as jj. her back was to him, so he didn't see her face.

"fucking look at me, maybank." she all but growled, breaking the boy's hard glare from rafe cameron and landing on her own. rafe was curious, curious at what hold she seemed to have on the hothead.

maybank's fist opened, his fingers flexing as he retreated from his initial plan. his shoulders slumped and he no longer seemed to be on the defense.

the girl didn't let his jaw go until she knew for certain he was calm. it was a staring contest between them for a second, but she ultimately won.

"sola..." jj started, no doubt an excuse for his actions following suit. but the young woman shook her head.

"he's not worth it." she said with her eyes looking into his, silently begging him to be the bigger person and walk away. thankfully he conceded.

john b. and pope patting jj on the back and john b. throwing his arm over his shoulder to pull him away from the crowd is what got everyone to disperse, the de-escalation of the conflict signaling there was no fight to be had. well, almost everyone dispersed.

"so that freak maybank has a lil' girlfriend." is what leaves kelce's lips, followed by a chuckle. the comment had sola turning on her heels, showing her face to the three kooks.

rafe would admit that in that moment, where she walked up to him and his friends, he felt his breath get caught in his throat.

the young woman was beautiful to the cameron boy. even with the look to kill in her eyes, she was shorter than him, but not by a lot so he just had to drop his eyes to be eye to eye with her. the area they stood was poorly lit by a few tiki lights, so her facial details weren't properly shown. but from what rafe could see, she was gorgeous.

she gave him a once over, turning her attention to kelce and stepping into his space. "please don't think because of our social and gender differences, that i won't lay you flat out on this pavement. i'm not like jj, i'll stay and take the charge. beating the living shit out of you and your lil' kook asshats until all that's left to identify you is your overpriced, ugly ass suits." she fixed his suit jacket and tie, hiking the tie up so it begins to choke him.

"what the hell!" topper exclaimed, reaching forward to take her hands off his friend. she did so without his help and stepped back.

the smirk on rafe's face hadn't left, not even when his best friend was being choked by his own tie. something about the young woman had caught his attention.

"sola, right?...sarah's friend." his voice caught her attention, her eyes snapping to him and his face.

she didn't say anything, just looked back over to kelce—who was hunched over coughing with topper hitting his back, with a warning glare before turning on her heel and walking away.

"crazy fucking bitch." kelce utters out between coughs, loosening his tie completely to alleviate his airways.

rafe watched as the girl come face to face with his step mother, who was most likely scolding her for her actions. the young woman simply took off the apron she had around her waist and threw it at rose's feet, flipping her off as she walked away.

that was rafe's first interaction with sola frederick's. a person he didn't know would soon consume him. slowly but oh, so surely.

his second encounter with sola happened a week after the midsummers incident. she had been sleeping over at the cameron estate with sarah and kiara, having what sarah called 'a much needed girl's night'.

sola was dressed in an oversized steelers jersey, hair scarf around her freshly retwisted locs as she made her way down the long stairs to the kitchen. it was eleven at night, and everyone in the house had gone to their designated rooms for the night.

or so she assumed.

when her bare feet hit the cold marble of the kitchen floor, she was met with the man himself, rafe cameron, holding a can of beer in one hand and texting whoever on his phone in the other. he felt her presence and looked up to catch the girl grabbing a cup from the cabinet near her.

"so she makes house calls." he says calmly, using the opportunity to rake his eyes over her. he couldn't properly see her the last time they came in contact with each other—the dark night and poorly lit area making it hard for him to fully see her.

but his initial thought was true, she was beautiful. her skin was a rich brown, seeming to glow under the fluorescent lights. her neck and face were scattered with beauty marks, some under her eyes, on her jaw and her neck just below her ear. she was tall, taller than sarah and kiara, and her body...rafe's head filled with the most sinful of thoughts as he watched the hem of her jersey rise as she reached back up in a cupboard.

the woman gave him a once over again, turning back to fill her cup with water from the fridge's dispenser. she didn't speak, just kept her eyes on what she was doing and ignoring his presence.

rafe's jaw clenched at her disrespect. she was paying him no mind, and no one did that. even his sisters stupid pogue friends gave him the attention he wanted when provoking them, but sola did not.

and her silence sent him into his head, trying to remember if there was ever a time other than last week she interacted with him.

and how shocked was he to find there was none. the young woman would barely even glance at him, let alone speak to him. hell, she didn't even speak to him last week. he wasn't worth her words.

"he's not worth it." her words were like a siren in his ear, blaring and never ending. he was worthless to her, and it was shown in her lack of regard for him, for his presence.

sola grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl in the center of the island. rafe acted before thought and grabbed her wrist to stop her from possibly leaving the kitchen. had she left without so much as a scoff towards him he knew he'd be in his mind all night about it. wracking his brain as to why she wouldn't acknowledge him.

her eyes looked from his touch on her arm to his eyes, her silence as loud as words the way she grilled him. her body was warm, radiating a comforting heat rafe wanted to melt into. but her eyes were ice cold.

there was no words between the two, just silence and stares. he pulled her to him, the force of which getting her to spill some of the water in her cup on the floor.

"fucking hell." she said as the cold liquid got on her foot. she narrowed her eyes at rafe, now standing chest to chest with him, the apple in the hand of the wrist he held.

"what the hell do you want?" she asked in annoyance. rafe fought the urge to smile at her acknowledgement. she finally spoke to him. granted it was clear from her tone he was annoying the absolute shit out of her, but she spoke to him.

he stared at her, her face up close seeming to be more alluring. he noticed she had a beauty mark on the edge of her bottom lip. also liking the color of them—her lips, seeing the contrast of the brown and pink tones.

"if you like them so much then read them when i say: what. the fuck. do. you. want?" she spoke slowly, leaning a bit in. each word was laced with disdain for rafe, her eyes never changing their icy gaze.

rafe's eyes looked from her lips to her eyes, the hand holding her wrist now moving up to cup her cheek. it was a surprisingly soft touch, one that caught him and her off guard. the next surprise was sola did not pull away.

"maybank get to do more than read them, princess?" his voice was hushed, whisper-like. she could smell the beer on his breath and although all signs inside of her were screaming to rip her face away from his hold, she remained standing in front of him.

she smirked, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "so much more. why? you wanna taste him?"

rafe chuckled, dropping his head and shaking it at her antic. when he looked back up at her, she was still looking at him. "'replace' seems like the better word in my opinion, don't you think?"

and the young woman let out a chuckle, a smile breaking through on her face and getting rafe's heart to flutter. it sounded genuine, although he knew there would be only sarcastic and rude things to follow out her mouth after.

"would be a downgrade, in my opinion." she stepped back from his space, giving him the sign she was done with him.

"your eyes say different, princess. i bet your body does too." rafe folded his arms across his chest, openly checking sola out, not caring if she caught him.

"mm, i'll guess you'll never know." she shrugged, taking a sip of her water as she leaned against the island in front of him.

his mind was spinning thinking of a response. did he want to try and get close to her again? or was it now just a game of wits?

"sola! you okay down there?" sarah's voice called from the top of the stairs.

as sola turned to let sarah know she was alright, rafe decided his response would be to move closer to her, trapping her between himself and the island.

sola looked back at him the minute she felt him. she smirked, eyes fiery and locked on his. "you're close."

rafe smiled, "i could be closer."

"'further' seems like the better word in my opinion, don't you think?" she said sarcastically, mocking his earlier statement.

rafe hummed in approval of her comeback, "you don't really want me further though, do you?" he tilted his head a bit, the smirk on his face never wavering. his eyes were mischievous just as sola's.

"so you know what i want now, playboy?" she made the dumb mistake of breaking eye contact to look at his lips, an act rafe not only booked, but one that had his chest filling with confidence.

"without doubt, princess." with that, he took a step back from her, holding her gaze as he moved until he left the kitchen completely. leaving sola in there to curse to herself for allowing him to get so close.

he took a quick leave, anyone would. staying long enough with that much tension between them would ultimately end with either him breaking her back over that island, or with the worse case of blue balls. something in rafe told him the latter would be his outcome.

rafe's third encounter with the fredericks girl was at a bonfire party in the cut. originally, he had overheard sarah squealing on the phone to sola about it, excited to finally get some alone time with her stupid boyfriend, john b.

rafe didn't care much for that, obviously. but what had his ears perked up was sarah's begging for sola to join the rest of their dirty pogues at the party.

"oh come on soso, it'll be so fun with you there. y'know jj will be devastated if you don't show. you and john b. are the only people that smoke with him at these things."

rafe couldn't make out what was said on the other side of the phone call, but from sarah's cheer he could only assume the girl agreed. and therefore, he agreed to go as well. granted, no one asked him, but that didn't phase him. he was the king, he went where he pleased.

and that night, he was going to a bonfire party.

he had attended a bunch of parties on the cut before. why? he didn't have a solid answer to that. usually, he would be dragged by topper who wanted to 'spice things up' or because rafe himself wanted to make sarah and her friends' lives miserable for a night, but now he seemed to have found a new purpose.

so as night fell, the kook king made his way to the beach with his friends, excited for the night festivities and even more excited to get some time with sola.

speaking of, the young woman was perched on a log with john b. and jj, sharing a spliff with her two friends. john b. sat to the right of her as jj sat in between her legs, head resting against the girls thigh.

"mm," solana started, taking the spliff out her mouth and exhaling the smoke, "there's no way you can tell me that you'd survive a day as a kook." she spoke more so to john b. jj was high off his ass, simply enjoying the girls warmth.

the young routledge shook his head, "i would. i don't know, being with sarah opened my eyes to how they live and honestly, it's not that hard. you just have to act like you're better than everyone and have no morals." he shrugged, plucking the spliff from her fingers and holding it in his own.

"i would probably be too overwhelmed with the riches. what do people even do with that much money?" her hand found a home in jj's hair, running through the blond strands and massaging his scalp. he nuzzled more into her, knees to his chest and eyes closed.

"drugs. they do drugs." jj slurred, the comfortable position making him sleepy. his answer got both john b. and sola to laugh, laughing more at him then his words.

"man, if you're tired go sleep it off. pretty sure i saw a hammock closer to the bonfire." john b. used his foot to push jj's knee, hoping the boy had heard him. they weren't that far from the fire, probably a couple feet.

jj groaned but nodded, standing to his feet slowly. he stretched his arms above his head, the muscle shirt covering his torso rising a bit to show his belly button and happy trail. his red eyes looked down at sola, low and filled with fatigue.

"you coming, soso?" he asked, still craving her warmth and touch.

the young woman smiled at the invitation, "in a minute. i wanna finish this then i'll be there." she reassured, watching as he nodded and dapped john b. before retiring to the hammock.

when jj was out of earshot, john b. turned his attention to sola, "so not to be all in your business but what is up with you guys? are y'all together or..." he extended the spliff to her, blowing smoke out the side of his mouth as to not get it in her face.

sola shrugged, "i don't know, you know. we do stuff here and there but i can't say if it's out of feelings or simply physical desires. if you ask me, i think he just wants a release from his feelings for kie." she spoke so casually that john b. had to stop and stare. he was expecting her to admit feelings to his longtime friend, or at least interest.

"so fuck buddies? nothing more? you sure?" he pestered some more. from what he just saw, and what he has witnessed in the past, the two seemed too intimate to be reduced to fuck buddies.

before sola could answer, john b.'s eyes looked away from her and face turned sour, "jesus, what the fuck are they doing here?"

sola turned her head to match his eyeline, seeing rafe and his minions walk closer to them. he was dressed in an opened, red hawaiian shirt with black shorts and sneakers. his signature smirk was on his lips the second his eyes locked on sola.

"hey, if it isn't my sister's stupid boyfriend sitting with my least favorite pogue." he flashed a cocky smile to the pair, receiving a grimace from john b. and...a chuckle, from sola.

"can we help you three, playboy?" sola asked, face unbothered by the presence of the three kooks. her lack of reaction was irritating to rafe, his jaw clenching as she continued to act as if he wasn't important to her.

"is there any reason you came to harass us when you could be literally anywhere else on this beach?" john b. asked, getting kelce and topper to scoff, but rafe didn't give his comment a response as he kept his eyes on sola.

sola let out a tiresome sigh and stood up from the log. rafe took the opportunity to look her over: a black and white checkered bikini top, jean shorts with her matching bikini bottoms peeking through and a black flannel over her to keep her warm from the slightly windy weather.

john b. had rolled his eyes at rafe's blatant and disgusting ogling of sola's body. he wanted to punch his lights out, but last thing he needed was to cause any more drama between the cameron family than he already has.

"so you came for me or to be a nuisance?" sola asked rafe, who smirked that she would call him out. he had been looking for her since he and his friends arrived, not wanting to speak with anyone else or do anything else than be in her presence.

"i'm gonna go find sarah. sol, do you want me to get jj?" john b. didn't even try to whisper his suggestion, wanting rafe to know sola was spoken for....even if it was a lie.

he could get jj, but jj seeing rafe show obvious interest in sola would only end in bloodshed. the man was territorial, possessive over sola. but little did they know, so was rafe.

"it's okay john b. i'll be fine on my own." she gave him a reassuring smile, gesturing for him to leave and go be with his girlfriend. he was hesitant, but left anyways. with his departure, topper and kelce also left to go grab some drinks (as instructed to by rafe).

rafe smiled in satisfaction, finally getting a moment alone with sola. realizing she was alone with him, she rolled her eyes and sat back down on the log. "well look where fate has brought us yet again." he sat down next to her, knee touching her own.

sola looked at him in amusement. she had a feeling she would be seeing him again, feeling him in some way.

"so where's maybank? usually a dog never leaves his owner." rafe had such a tone when speaking to sola. it was soft—distinctively softer than how he spoke to her friends, despite using the same hurtful words. it was confusing, really, how he was able to sound so endearing while saying vile things.

sola pursed her lips, "jj really stays on your mind, huh? you sure it's me that you want?"

rafe leaned in, "who said i wanted you?”

he lied through his teeth. he wanted sola bad, to the point she overtook his mind. when he would be at home, she was running rampant in his daydreams. when he would be out with friends she was always there, popping up in his head and leading him away from the conversation.

"what's that thing you said in the kitchen, about eyes saying different than the mouth? about the body saying different too. what's your body saying, rafe?" she leaned in, deciding to match his energy. frankly she didn't know what she was getting into, and doing this might bring her to a point of no return, but she wanted to see whether or not he would cower under her pressure. she wanted to be in control and put the kook king in his place.

her leg that was next to him now went over, rafe looking down at their crossed legs and feeling a slight twitch in his shorts as she rubbed her leg against his.

there was no one around to see them. the partygoers—a cluster of pogues, kooks, and tourons, surrounded by the bonfire to participate in drunken festivities. too wrapped up in themselves to notice sola's seduction taking place some feet over.

rafe chewed on his bottom lip, too focused on how warm sola felt to muster up a snarky reply. it didn't help he had gotten high before coming to the beach, hopes of calming the nerves she let off in him.

he found it pathetic, that a pogue of all people could have him at the edge of his seat. the warmth of her skin could have him like a bowl of jelly, all soft and spineless. his eyes couldn't even look at hers anymore, too focused on her thigh and how it felt against his own. he wanted to feel more.

"c'mon rafe, you were so bold back in your kitchen, what happened to that fire, playboy?" she took hold of his chin and turned his head up to her, a smirk on her face as she gasped at a realization, "never did i think lil' ol' sola fredericks would have rafe cameron speechless." her thumb rubbed against his jawline, another warm touch he couldn't help but lean into.

"you want me, rafe? wanna replace maybank?" and like a submissive bitch, rafe nodded. he actually nodded. some touches to his face and leg, a couple of witty moments, and a smirking girl had him fully ready to admit to whatever she wanted him to.

sola shook her head, pulling his face a bit closer to hers, "words, baby. you had a lot of them earlier, so find them again." she practically coaxed his confession out of him. her fingers continuing to massage his jaw.

"i want you, sola. i want to replace that fucking maybank and have you all to myself." his eyes were big and pupils blown to shit. his confession brought a slight decline to his pride, bruising his ego, and making him feel just a tad bit smaller in comparison to her.

sola smiled in triumph, "of course you do." she kept moving as if she were going to kiss him, but pulled back just as he opened his mouth to accept hers.

her grip on his jaw tightened, her hand pushing his head to look up, stretching his neck for her to have plenty access. she left light pecks along his adam's apple, the softness of her lips bringing a shudder to rafe. "now tell me i'm king, baby. submit to me."

there was a part of his neck she kissed—the side, right above his collarbone—that had a whimper escape rafe's mouth before he could catch it. it was unexpected for him, but he was looking for her to take it further.

her teeth lightly bit his neck, emitting a groan from the young cameron. "fuck," he whispered, eyes closed as she continued to litter his neck with marks, "your king, sola. the fucking king." one hand of his gripped her thigh while the other held onto the log to stabilize himself.

sola chuckled against his skin, a smile rafe could feel burning his neck as the vibrations of her laugh made his body warm. she removed herself from him, looking back in his eyes. she kissed the air, miming what would've been a peck on his lips before releasing his face and taking her leg from on top of his.

the warmth on his body was long gone, replaced with the cool night wind. he felt as though what he was seeing wasn't real, that she wasn't actually walking away from him. but she was. without so much as a 'bye', she got up from the log and walked off, hips swaying and body oozing a newfound confidence. a confidence he knew all too well.

he stayed on that log for a long time after she left him, he would say about an additional thirty minutes. his mind couldn't seem to process all that took place despite it being rather straightforward.

sola teased him, gotten his confession, and walked away victorious. in her wake, she left behind him and his semi-erect dick, and a newfound craving for her warmth and touch. it was brilliant. here rafe was, thinking he had her match, maintaining control when it really was her.

"man, we looked everywhere for you. thought that bitch of a pogue killed you or some shit." kelce was the first voice to get rafe's attention, he and topper returning once they saw sola around the fire and people, rafe still absent.

"kelce thought that, i did not." topper corrected. he thought kelce's theory was crazy, as he had known sola from when he was with sarah and murder was the last thing she would do...at least not when she was on a beach with how many hundred witnesses.

"anyways, we saw her lying with maybank and wondered where the hell you were. what happened?" kelce touched rafe's shoulder, but his hand was quickly swatted off as rafe rose to his feet.

"she was doing what? where? with who?" he asked kelce, still choked up from the previous events with the fredericks girl.

"...maybank. over by the drinks. why do you care, dude?" kelce asked, not sure why his friend was so wound up on the girl.

rafe ignored his question and pushed past his friends, heading back to the big fire, scanning the patrons for the vixen who flooded his mind.

and wouldn't he know, she was where kelce said she'd be, lying in a hammock with jj maybank, leg thrown over his waist and arm around his neck as she kissed him.

her hand found a place in his hair, grabbing the roots and tugging him closer to her, moving more so she was pressed against him. shameless and uncaring of those who would see, too wrapped up in him to pay anyone else any mind.

and as rafe watched jj break away to leave kisses along her neck, her eyes opened and looked around before they locked on his and a devilish smirk found its way to her face. her eyes were burning with pleasure and mischief as her mouth opened once jj reached what rafe could only assume was her pleasure spot. but she never broke her gaze from his. she held it, the same way he did hers that night in his kitchen.

for a moment, whether it be from the drugs he took earlier or just straight delusion, rafe felt as if it was him creating her pleasure. it was him lying in the hammock with her and ravishing her as if she were his last meal.

and sola ate that shit up. maintaining her eye contact with one man as his enemy sucked and bruised her skin, callous fingers groping at her thigh and moving higher to her ass.

it turned her on to see rafe so helpless, standing there like a lost puppy watching jj indulge in her. the slight groans she received from jj creating a mess of her as she pictured rafe watching them go all the way (which, she knew if given the chance, the young cameron would watch with excitement).

yes, there was no doubt that rafe cameron walked around the outer banks like he owned it. didn't matter the territory—kook or pogue, rafe cameron once owned it all. ruled it all.

until sola fredericks came along, and slapped the crown right off of his head.

#🌞🍃spliffymae #shows/movies 🖥️彡 #rafe cameron x black! reader #rafe cameron #outer banks #jj maybank x black!reader #obx pogues #obx kooks #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #fanfic #angst

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hometoursandotherstuff · 2 years

Photo

Not only did the Press Room replace the White House pool, but I just learned that there’re bowling alleys, too.

The original 1940s installation where secret service agents and secretaries alike would have once unwound with a few strikes and beers at the end of a stressful day in the West Wing.

In the 1950s, Truman’s in-house alley was scrapped in favor of a printing press room and moved to the Old Executive Office Building across the street.

Both Pres. Nixon and his wife were passionate bowlers and in 1969, he had his own private one-lane alley built in an underground workspace area below the White House driveway.

In the movie, “The Big Lebowski,” this picture of Pres. Nixon hangs over the Dude’s tiki bar.

President Obama planned to replace the bowling alley in the White House proper, installed by Nixon in 1969, with an indoor basketball court. Unlike Truman’s alley, Nixon’s single-lane facility was presumably intended for Presidential use only, and Obama wasn’t a fan of bowling.

The Bowler’s Proprietors Association of America submitted this rendering of a proposed refurbishing of the White House lane and Obama decided to leave the alley alone, after all.

The funky wallpaper is gone, but it could sure do with a fresh coat of paint, having fallen into serious disrepair after 9/11.

George W. Bush and his children were apparently the last ones to enjoy the facility and an invited guest got a peek at the alley and said it looked like a “crappy suburban bowling alley.”

Ah, but look at Truman’s alley now, all refurbished.

The White House bowling alley is open to the public on weekdays from 12:00pm to 2:00pm. The cost is $3.00 per game. You’ll need to make a reservation.

Shoe rental is $2.00.

Nixon’s single lane alley was also redone, but it’s used mostly for private occasions.

https://www.tenpinalley.com/this-is-not-politics-this-is-bowling-there-are-rules/

#white house bowling alleys #bowling alleys white house #long post

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denimjacketkisses · 2 years

Text

Changed.

Description: Eddie is changed. Personality wise, he’s still the same Eddie. Physically, he’s gained a new look. You look after him, while he adjusts to his new life.

Pairing: Vampire! Eddie Munson x F! Reader.

Wanings: Mentions of blood, wounds, “death”. There will be sexual themes at some point. Fluff. Just make smart choices. MINORS DNI.

A/N: Ah! This first little chapter of this series is a bit dark, sad and angsty. So I apologize in advance. I needed to get my backstory going. BUT there will be cute moments. Truly this is inspired by a tiktoker named ars.de.elysium, who does animations of BAT EDDIE. They are my heart and soul right now and I wanted something in writing of the shenanigans of Bat Eddie and the gang, and reader of course. If you have the tiky - toks, you should go follow her! She also has a tumblr so I will be tagging her as well. Hope y’all enjoy!

Comments are always welcome! Please let me know what you enjoy! (:

The world seemed a bit less bleak. You had all survived the perils of the Upside Down. Mentally, you all were a hot mess and physically, some of you were doing - alright; but you were standing on two feet and making the best of what the after effects of the Upside Down had handed you.

Standing on your two feet meant something different to everyone currently. You were a family, of course, bonded by the trauma that only the Upside Down could cause, but everyone was doing and dealing with something different.

You had decided to take on the role of caregiver, to a “dead” Eddie Munson. Hidden away in the woods of Hoppers cabin, you laid in the pitch black darkness. Thick sheets covered the windows, the sound of an air conditioning unit running on full blast was your background noise, along with the small snores of a sleeping Eddie.

—-

[Then]

After what you assumed were his last breaths,begrudgingly the team had rushed out of the Upside Down, the cracks in its foundation ripping away and seeping into the Rightside Up; your small town of Hawkins.

You had refused to leave Eddie there, alone in the cold of that Hell. As soon as you knew everyone else had made it Rightside Up, you ran. You ran back to Eddie. He deserved a proper burial, he deserved to be mourned. You gripped onto his wrist, pulling up his body with whatever strength you had left. It was when his body had collided with yours you heard it, the sound of faint breaths. He was breathing. He was alive.

“Steve! He’s alive! Steve, please!” You screamed into the void of the bright red sky. Steve, who hadn’t gone far. Steve, who was trying to console a fragile Dustin, came back. You watched as he placed his index finger on Eddie’s wrist. The look of shock covering his features, before he pushed you aside so he could scoop up Eddie under his arms.

“Grab his legs, come on. He’s barely there. We’re getting him out of this shit.” You two, with the future help of Dustin, dragged Eddie’s slowly dying body out of the Upside Down and took him to the only place you knew he could be safe from the ridicule of Hawkins.

Hopper’s Cabin.

With the help of Murray, Joyce and Nancy, they had managed to clean, sew up and bandage most of Eddie’s worse wounds. It was then, a waiting game. You, Steve, Robin and Dustin had all taken shifts. You would sit and watch his chest, slowly rise and fall. He hadn’t woken up in two weeks. Two whole weeks. You were starting to lose hope, that is, until that rainy Sunday afternoon. When you heard the horse rasp of a familiar voice that you hadn’t heard in weeks.

“H - hello?“

You were slowly drifting asleep when you heard it, thinking that your mind was once again playing tricks on you, you closed your eyes once more.

“W - where am I? H - hello? Is anyone -“ a loud thud snapped you out of what you thought was a daydream. You scrambled off the couch and ran into the direction of Eddie’s room, flinging the door open your eyes landed on him. Fallen on the floor, face flat on the ground, was Eddie. He was awake. He had moved. He was on the fucking floor.

You moved as fast as your shocked body would allow. Immediately lowering yourself and gripping Eddie from under his arms, lifting him up slowly.

“Holy shit. Eds, are you alright? What hurts? How can I help? Are you hungry? Do I need to change your bandages, again? Do you need wa-“ your ramblings cut off as the cold and calloused hand of Eddie covered your mouth. Your eyes bounced around until they finally landed on his brown ones. Or, they used to be brown. Now, they were more a dark crimson.

“Listen, Starshine. I’m glad your concerned about my well being, but I need about point five seconds to figure out what the fuck is up with my body. It’s hot as hell in this house. Where are we even? And, I’ve never wanted liver in my life, but it sounds good?” The rasp in his voice rattled your ears and though it sounded like your Eddie, something was different - he had changed.

——

[Now]

You watched as the clock on the nightstand turned to 9:00pm. You figured he’d be awake soon. Wanting his new favourite dinner item, liverwurst. Your skin crawled at the thought, but as he had informed you it was a better option than actual blood. You shivered at the mere idea of Eddie killing someone just to drink blood. That wasn’t your Eddie. He would find other ways to sustain himself in his new body.

Your knuckles rapped on his door, before a silent “come in” floated through the air. You pushed the door open slightly, peeking your head inside. Your eyes fell on Eddie, who was sitting in bed, shirtless and drawing in his sketchbook.

“Are you ready for dinner? If not I can just wait, it’s no biggie, I don’t wanna rush you. I know you probably just woke up and -“ he was in your direct line of sight in what felt like seconds; it probably was. Super speed, as Dustin called it. Vampire things. You blinked, looking up into those crimson eyes you had slowly gotten used to looking into.

“Stop rambling, Starshine. I can eat. Maybe we can watch a movie? I’m getting kind of lonely here, by myself.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously, his scars stretching out over his paler skin.

He watched as you nodded your head in silence. It was a yes. It was approved. Something he felt like he hadn’t had with you since that day. You had volunteered to care for him as he adjusted to this new life and yet he felt like he was losing you at the same time. You were so close and yet, eons away.

In silence you two made your way into the kitchen, Eddie’s bowl of liver sitting on the small table, and your bowl of HoneyCombs cereal sitting by the sink. You both ate in silence for a while, watching silently as Eddie’s pale skin slowly regained some colour, he began to look - alive.

“Man, I miss the taste of those.” He mumbled aloud over a fork full of liver. He watched as you rolled your eyes, shaking your head softly.

“You aren’t missing much. This box is older than dirt. So it’s stale and would probably taste good with milk, maybe…but that went bad yesterday and I already succumbed to a mouthful of curdled milk earlier this morning so - dry as sand cereal it is.” You shrugged, pointing your spoon towards his bowl.

“I’d rather take this, then liver though.”

You watched as Eddie shrugged, taking another bite of the liver, his newly developed fangs poking past his top lip, “I didn’t ask to become undead, so, win some lose some, right? Least I get to hang out with my favourite, Starshine. Don’t tell Dustin that though, I think he’ll actually cry.”

Your eyes found Eddies, shaking your head and letting a chuckle past your lips.

“I don’t call him that by the way, just to clarify. That name is only reserved for you.” He stated putting a hand up defensively. Knowing he was in the clear as he watched you laugh softly. “He’s been asking about you, by the way. Really want’sta come see you. I told him I’d ask you first before letting him, and probably the rest of the gang just barged in here. You know they come as a package deal.” You shrugged, tapping the spoon on the edge of the plastic bowl.

Eddie’s eyes watched your spoon, as if it was telling him some secret. He muddled over the idea of Dustin and the gang coming to see him. He knew you had told them about him. The whole being part vampire and living like a recluse. He missed them terribly. He missed the interaction. He missed being awake before 8pm, he succumbed to depression. Lied and said it was from being undead and only being able to come out after the sunset , but he had opened the window up enough when there was light to figure out - unlike the horror novels he had read - he wasn’t going to catch on fire if he went outside.

He heard you clear your throat, he’d obviously been unfocused for a minute.

“Sorry, yeah. I - I’d like to see them.” With a huff, his head fell, “I miss them. I miss being normal.” He began to play with the rings on his fingers. He may have felt not normal, but the old Eddie was still there, nervous ticks and all.

“Hey.” He felt your hand, warm, lay on top of his and gave it a squeeze. His eyes find yours, the source of comfort.

“I’ll tell them. Dustin and Steve honestly haven’t stopped calling and asking about you for weeks now. They’ll be ecstatic. As for you not being normal. You're still Eddie, our Eddie, my Eddie.” Your hand gestured to his body.

“You may be as pale as my thigh now, and your pretty brown eyes are now a pretty shade of red. And -” you leaned in, poking one of his exposed fangs, “you have these cute little fangs, but you're still The Dungeon Master, metal music loving, overdramatic, Eddie Munson.”

With a smile, and a soft fall back into your chair, you squeezed his hand once more.

“We can figure this out. Never forget who you are, Eddie. It’s just another challenge, but we’ll face it together.” Feeling the warmth of your hand retreat, he watched as you held out your pinky finger towards him, “Pinky promise me.”

A small smile crossed Eddie’s features as he leaned in slightly, wrapping his pinky finger around yours. “Promise, Starshine, now - how bout that movie?” A toothy smile covered his features.

Jumping out of your chair, you picked up your two bowls and dumped them in the sink, turning your head in Eddie’s direction.

“Lucky for you, I already had Steve bring me some movies. I already decided, we’re watching ‘Little Shop of Horrors’, it’s payback for having to cook you liver for the last two weeks.” You announced to him, making a disgusted face of the mentioned liver.

“Told ya, Starshine. It’s either you feed me liver, or I’m going to have to pull a scene from ‘Interview with the Vampire.” he mentioned as he quickly removed himself from the dining table and next to you, his face mere inches from yours. You made a mental note that you would never get used to the speed. “Until we find another alternative that is. Sadly, Yoo-Hoo doesn’t taste the same anymore and brings me no substance.”

“You and Yoo-Hoo.” You laughed, pushing his chest softly to push him away, “Come on, Lestat. It’s time for you to test your vampy patience with me while I serenade you.”

For the first time in awhile, Eddie allowed himself to grip your hand and lace his fingers with yours. He watched as you looked behind you, looking at your interlocked hands and then smiling back up at him. He saw his girl back. Not just his caretaker, his girl. Normalcy.

“I’m all vampy ears, Starshine. I’ll retreat back to my coffin if it gets too bad.” His ears picked up on the laugh that escaped your smile, maybe he could adjust - be the old Eddie.

Tag List: @ars-de-elysium @munsons-maiden @savemefromanepicoftimewasted @mentalfictionleftmyassbehind @reddisteddie

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson vampire #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson drabble

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