#i had cotton mouth and my breath was probably awful and i cant stop in such thinking about it i am so aWKWARD

[stomachflu]

Ooo, for c//ritical r//oll concept, something with sick Mollymauk? Maybe he's got a really bad stomach flu but is covering it super well with his usual showmanship. He's gotten used to taking care of himself and not showing weakness while on the road-- cant miss a performance for a lil bug. Pretends to be totally fine until he crashes, cue the rest of the m9 taking care of him? Bonus for belly rubs and drawn out nausea.

🚫don’t rb to non-sickfic/emeto/kink blogs, thanks!🚫

thank you so much for this really good prompt! i’ve been working on this for a REALLY LONG TIME but cr//itical r/-/oll has become one of my new fave interests so i enjoyed writing this a lot!

have over 5k of nausea buildup, multiple puking sessions, and caretaking!

(i only realized after writing this fic that not only does jester not have the cure illness spell, but it’s not even a spell in dnd 5e, and i’m thinking of a similar spell from my 3.5e campaign. whoops! there’s probably a lot more errors in here due to me being new to the show, so please be nice to me and ignore them! ^_^)

Molly certainly hadn't objected to taking shelter out of the storm, but the town was small, with only a few small rooms in their only inn, and not much in the way of entertainment, so by all means, he should've been more than happy to be moving on as soon as the rain passed.

The thing was, he had definitely picked up something in that weather. He'd spent most of the previous day huddled in blankets, trying to rid himself of the chills that racked his body. He was lucky that they'd had enough money for four rooms this time, luckier still that Beau and Jester were still insistent upon rooming together, and Caleb and Nott were stuck like glue, leaving him and Fjord with separate rooms. Molly had to make appearances at mealtimes, of course, but he'd put on a good show then, mustering up enough energy to entertain the room with simple tricks – disappearing coins and such.

Molly had hoped that it was just a momentary illness, that it would pass in time, but when he'd woken up burning with fever, he knew he was in it for the long haul. He felt terrible, hot and cold at the same time, aching down to his very bones. It hurt to swallow, but he needed energy if he was going to beat this, so he choked down breakfast as quickly as possible.

The sky was clear now, not a cloud in sight, and they needed to be moving on. The group didn't have time to waste on a cold – Molly was no use bedridden, and, besides, there was nothing that would cure him but time. Jester needed her spells, and it wasn't like he wouldn't have plenty of time to rest in the cart.

Once they jerked into motion, though, Molly quickly realized that he'd made a mistake. He had eaten breakfast with everyone else, and his stomach was not happy with that decision. He took deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to concentrate on something other than his suddenly-churning gut.

Probably motion sickness. Traveling had never made him ill before, but there was a first time for anything. If he had to guess, it probably had to do with how dizzy he was – having the world spin around him while he was jostled back and forth? That would make anyone queasy. What was it that people always said? Something about focusing on the horizon, but that just made him feel more queasy.

Fjord had the reigns, with Caleb keeping watch next to him, so Molly snuck a glance at the rest of the group – Nott and Beau in an animated conversation, Jester with her sketchbook – and risked placing a hand on his tender belly, rubbing it gently. He swallowed back a burp, grimacing as the pressure in his stomach only increased.

The sun was still high in the sky, and Molly needed a distraction from what was quickly becoming nausea, so he spread out his cards in front of him, shuffling through his deck.

"Ooh!" Jester exclaimed, bouncing into a sitting position across from him. "Do a reading for me, please?"

Despite himself, Molly smiled. With his view of the horizon blocked, he did feel a little better. Perhaps it was simply motion sickness after all.

"Alright, cut the deck for me – good. Now, two more times..."

--

Molly's momentary relief didn't last long. He did a reading for Jester, and then one for Beau. By the time Nott asked, he was certain his fever was up, sweat beading on his forehead, so he feigned exhaustion and put the cards away.

His stomach hurt. It was an on-and-off kind of pain, the cramps coming in intervals, leaving him shivering with chills each time. Maybe it's simply hunger, Molly thought, fishing out some strips of dried jerky out of his bag and gnawing on them absently. At any rate, he needed to eat to get over this illness, but putting food in his mouth, but swallowing it down just made him more nauseous.

He needed to throw up.

The thought struck Molly at the same. time that a wave of nausea washed over him, and he swallowed hard. Not right now, not this moment, but at some point in the near future, he was going to vomit.

The cart pulled off to the side of the road, jostling Molly's sick stomach and forcing a soft burp up his throat.

"Alright," Fjord said, hopping down from his position at the reins. "Short break to feed and water the horses, but 's about all I got in me. Anyone else wanna drive?" A beat in which nobody else answered, and he repeated, "Anyone...?"

"Fuck it, fine, I'll do it," Beau grumbled.

"If we are to be switching positions, is there anyone else who would like to take watch?" Caleb asked.

Molly slowly slid out of the cart, his hot, aching joints protesting every movement.

"I volunteer," he said. Maybe the fresh air would help. Already, he felt a bit better, standing in the open air like this.

That was settled, then. Fjord and Nott went about taking care of the horses, and the others took their time walking about, stretching or disappearing into the woods bordering either side of the road to relieve themselves.

Molly was glad for the thick cover of trees – the second he was out of sight of the cart, he clutched his belly with both hands, bending over at the waist. The pressure helped, but his stomach was still churning. He felt awful, knew that he needed to throw up now if he was going to keep up appearances.

Molly traipsed a little further into the underbrush, determined to keep out of earshot of the others, and... waited. He was nauseous, yes, but not nearly to the degree that he had been when he was sitting in the back of the cart.

Come on, puke already, he thought. Absentmindedly, he reached underneath his shirt to rub his stomach, the taut skin hot with fever under his palm. Almost immediately, a gurgling burp shot up his throat, and he leaned forward expectantly.

Saliva flooded into his mouth, and Molly spit onto the dirt, throat tightening in a gag. A sick belch brought up a thin mouthful of foamy bile, and he retched again and again as the liquid pattered onto the dirt.

He didn't bring anything else up, though he remained bent over at the waist. Molly knew he couldn't stay here forever – he was already pushing the limits of what the others would believe, had his excuse of needing privacy to relieve himself been true. Anyways, his stomach felt... not good, not even better, but he wasn't on the verge of puking anymore. Maybe he could make it 'till nightfall.

As he traipsed back towards the cart, he suddenly realized why nobody had gone looking for him, why his absence had gone unnoticed. Standing in a circle around Fjord and Nott were a group of bandits, weapons drawn. Molly was too far away to tell, but by their gestures, he would have bet that they were demanding the cart, and everything on it.

Sighing, he drew his swords. It was going to be a long day.

--

They made quick work of the bandits, dispatching their leader and sending the others running into the woods, pursued by a few of Nott's arrows. It had been a good thing that Molly hadn't asked Jester for a healing spell earlier, though, because Fjord had taken a heavy blow to the chest, and Jester used almost all of her spell slots healing him.

And so they were back on their way, with Molly perched at the front of the cart, acting as lookout. The crisp air was helping a bit – he felt less foggy, like his head wasn't quite so stuffed with cotton. His stomach, however...

Right on cue, his stomach gurgled, and Molly winced, pressing a hand to his midsection. He could feel it bubbling under his skin, everything he'd eaten churning around in there.

Oh. Oh no. A cold sweat washed over his body, and Molly swallowed back the taste of bile.

"Beau?" he asked, swallowing back a belch.

"Yeah?" She wasn't even looking at him, so he allowed himself to press three fingers to his mouth, muffling another queasy burp.

"Would you mind stopping for a moment? I need to, ah – you know, relieve myself."

"Again? We just fucking stopped," Beau grumbled, but she dutifully pulled the horses over to the side of the road anyways, and Molly gratefully slid off of the cart, walking into the treeline as fast as his queasy belly would allow him.

He was gagging before he even came to a stop, a thin trickle of vomit splashing onto the leaves at his feet. He belched up a thick mouthful of undigested food, and then he couldn't stop burping, the sight of his pale vomit on the dark leaves making him more and more nauseous.

Calm down, Molly willed his stomach. He needed to stop puking, he needed to get his churning guts under control and –

Another sickly gag, and Molly managed a mouthful of watery puke. He hovered there for almost a full minute, mouth slightly open, too queasy to even wipe away the thick ropes of saliva trickling from his lips to the ground.

Was that it? He didn't feel done. If anything, his stomach was more bloated than ever, and he didn't feel any less nauseous, but, yet again, he couldn't stay here.

"Done?" Beau asked, hopping back up onto the cart as he approached. Molly took a more careful method, gingerly leveraging himself up so that he wouldn't have to bend over, keeping one hand under the small bloat of his gurgling stomach. It didn't do much, but the illusion of supporting his belly, keeping it from being jostled – it almost convinced him to feel less queasy.

"My apologies," he said simply, muffling a nauseous burp into his fist.

Beau looked at him strangely but only shook her head, taking the reins in hand. "Let's get this show on the fuckin' road!"

He had made a mistake. Molly knew this from the moment the cart jolted to life. Not only was he not done being sick, but the motion was too much to handle. A gag rose up in his throat, and he risked the motion of pressing the back of his hand to his lips as he rode it out. His mouth filled with vomit, and he swallowed it back with effort, and then kept swallowing, throat hitching in an attempt to heave.

Molly sat as still as possible, arms wrapped around his stomach, not even trusting himself to raise his head. The cart hit a particularly bad dip in the road, and his tongue arched in a gag, and he could taste bile on his tongue, and –

"Shit, Beau, pull over," he managed tightly, his throat closing in on a gag. She protested, probably about to make a terrible joke, and then he retched, and she looked over at him in alarm.

She'd yanked the horses over to the side of the road, but he was vomiting over the side of cart before it even came to a stop. He tried to climb down, but it was more of an undignified scramble as he gagged again, adding to the puddle in the grass.

By this point, the others had taken notice, and he was surrounded by a blurry semicircle of his friends as he fell to a crouching position, gagging again and again until he belched up a torrent of puke that splashed everywhere.

He was crying, Molly realized. His face was a mess of tears and snot, thick ropes of spit dangling from his mouth. It felt as if the nausea was never going to go away. He remained there on his hands and knees, panting and belching for what felt like an eternity, until he felt strong arms under his that pulled him to his feet.

Fjord had pulled him up, and was still supporting most of Molly's weight as Jester bounced into his hazy field of view.

"You're sick! Why didn't you tell us?" she demanded, pressing a hand to his forehead. He tried to answer, but couldn't open his mouth for fear of gagging. "Oh, Mol-ly," Jester said in her lilting accent, voice light and almost... teasing? "You have a fever."

"I know that," he managed. "You n – urrp!" He burped into his fist, trying to fight back the wave of nausea that was coming on strongly now. "You need your spells."

"Well, I have one left, so you should have told me," Jester said, voice still light as she fished the Traveler's symbol out from her cloak and pressed it to his belly. "I am going to cast Cure Illness and then you are going to feel better, all right?"

Molly nodded, and the symbol began to glow as Jester concentrated. All at once, a feeling of wrongness washed over him, the nausea surging back tenfold, and he pitched over and vomited on Jester's shoes.

--

"I really do apologize," Molly said miserably for what might have been the tenth time. "I wasn't aiming for you at all."

"My shoes can be cleaned!" Jester said brightly, crouching barefoot in the grass next to him. "You really do need to keep drinking, though."

After Jester's spell had failed and his stomach had calmed somewhat, they'd half-dragged, half-carried him a good bit away from the puddle he'd left on the ground. Fjord had handed him a handkerchief to wipe his mouth with ("Please, keep it.") and Caleb had fished a handful of dry, bland crackers out of his pocket, instructing Molly that he needed to both drink to avoid dehydration, and fill his stomach with something inoffensive if he could.

More like something stale, Molly thought, nibbling on the edge of a cracker. Thinking about how long they'd been in Caleb's pockets made his gorge rise, but before he could ruminate on the thought for too long and make himself sick, Beau walked over from where she'd been huddled with Caleb, Fjord, and Nott.

"Alright, here's the plan," she announced, map in hand. "We obviously can't camp here, so we're gonna get'cha back in the cart and find somewhere where we can settle down for the night, take it nice and slow. There're some towns we could make it to before sundown, but we'd have to go at a pretty fast clip, and I really do not want you puking over all of my things."

"That is very agreeable to me," Molly said, placing a hand on his sour stomach. At Jester's urging, he ate a few more of the crackers and drank deeply from the waterskin as everyone else worked out the logistics of their new plan.

A wave of dizziness washed over him, followed by a chill traveling down his spine, and Molly put his head between his knees, breathing deeply. He could do this. Now that he'd vomited, he would feel better any minute now –

"Molly? Do you think you can stand on your own, or should I be helping you?" Jester asked.

"Thanks for the offer, but I can stand," he said, pulling himself to his feet. His belly felt awful, all the water he'd drank churning in a way that really didn't feel good. He could actually hear his guts sloshing as he heaved himself back up onto the cart.

Jester frowned as he put a hand on the bloat of his still-tender stomach. "Are you feeling bad again? Do you need to vomit?"

"Yes, and maybe," Molly said, swallowing thickly. "Not right now. Probably soon."

"Get him set up in the back of the cart," Beau suggested dryly. "If he's gotta puke, he can do it over the edge. If we stay here any longer, it’s gonna get dark."

"That's a good idea!" Jester exclaimed. As Molly shivered with fever, she collected his blankets and bedroll, setting them in the back of the cart, close enough that he would only need to turn his head to vomit over the side. He gratefully settled into the little nest she'd built for him, arms wrapped around his protesting stomach now that he didn't have to hide his illness. Jester sat next to him, humming as she pulled out her sketchbook.

The cart jolted back to life, and Molly swallowed back a sour belch. His stomach was cramping again, and he screwed his eyes shut, tongue rising in a silent gag. He slipped his hand under his shirt to rub his stomach, only to feel a small hand on his wrist.

"Oh! This looks very painful," Jester said, scooting closer to place her hand on the swell of his stomach. "Does it hurt to touch?"

Molly shook his head. "Just hurts in general. Cramps, I'm..." He trailed off as the cart hit a pothole on the road, causing him to burp lightly into his fist. "I'm feeling a bit queasy right now, to be honest."

"Would it help if I rubbed your stomach?" Jester asked, already untucking the loose fabric of his shirt from his pants and rucking it up to his chest.

"Normally, I'd ask you to buy me dinner first, but..." The suggestive joke was lost as Jester poked experimentally at his stomach. Even if he'd wanted to, Molly couldn't fake being healthy now with his flushed, swollen belly on display, gurgling and churning audibly. Her touch ushered up a soft burp, and he blushed a bit, uncomfortable with the sheer amount of sickness, of vulnerability he was showing.

"Did that feel good? I bet it did!" Jester said, continuing to gently skim her hand over his stomach.

He had to give it to her, Jester was good with her hands. She rubbed his stomach in widening circles, slowly increasing the pressure as she went, switching to kneading the sides of his bloated belly every so often, pressing in with her thumbs as she did so. It seemed as if she knew just when to push in deeply, releasing a pocket of air that had been trapped, finally letting him burp it up.

As they bounced around, Molly's burps became more frequent and more queasy. At some point, he had to ask Jester to stop so he could fish out Fjord's handkerchief, and he pressed that against his mouth now, muffling increasingly wet belches.

"I hate to ask, but –" He gagged, mouth closed. "Jes, do you have any healing spells left?"

Molly's stomach gave a particularly loud gurgle, and Jester pressed in hard, dragging her hand along where it was bubbling the most. "I'm sorry, that was my last one! I won't have any more until tomorrow".

"Okay," he choked out, fighting back another gag. "I'm going to vomit again."

He turned his head and did just that, retching harshly over the side of the cart. A series of burps brought up small mouthfuls of water and undigested crackers. He gagged and belched over and over, only aware of the sensation of Jester's cool hands on his stomach, soothing away cramps and then pressing in each time he heaved.

The next thing he knew, Beau was supporting his back, trying to get him to sit up, and Jester was wiping his face with a cool rag. "Not done –" he tried to croak, but retched dryly before he could even finish the sentence.

"It's okay, go ahead and puke!" Jester said brightly, folding the cloth and cupping it under his mouth.

Molly shook his head, lips pressed tightly shut. He was gonna make a mess, he needed to turn back over the side – but Jester held his chin steadily, keeping his head over her cupped hands, and he retched again and again, bringing up more than a mouthful of stringy bile that was easily absorbed by the cloth.

"Think you're empty, dude," Beau said after a few minutes of fruitless gagging. Molly shook his head, one hand pressed to his aching chest. "Look, okay, I'm gonna teach you some monk shit, right?"

"'Kay," Molly managed, immediately choking on a retch.

"This breathing shit, it's supposed to keep you centered, or something like that? I dunno. Anyways. You're gonna breathe in through your nose for eight counts –" She counted him up, and Molly shakily inhaled, fighting back gags all the while. "–And then out through your mouth for another eight."

On five, Molly gagged, slapping his hand across his mouth even though he knew he had nothing left to lose.

"You gotta keep doing it, okay? Don't stop fucking breathing. It helps me when I'm motion sick; you'll feel better soon."

He hoped so. Molly leaned back, listening to the quiet count of eight-seven-six-five-four... He breathed in. He breathed out.

--

By nightfall, they'd found a small clearing with enough room to pull over the cart and horses and lay out bedrolls. Molly mostly dozed through the process, lying in his nest of blankets in the back of the cart, watching proceedings through half-lidded eyes.

"Molly should be nearest to the fire!" Jester insisted. "Look at him, he's shaking!"

"Don't think that you're supposed to let someone with a fever get any hotter," Fjord drawled. "Maybe we oughta help him cool down first."

The cart rocked a bit as Beau clambered up, sitting cross-legged next to Molly. "Hey," she said. "I'm supposed to make sure that you're drinking water. Are you?"

Molly made a face. He'd been trying to, really, but it just didn't feel good.

"Shit," Beau said. "You gonna puke again?"

"No, it's more like..." He grimaced again, waving a hand in the general direction of his stomach. "Cramps. Hurts."

"Puking all day really took it out of you, huh?"

Molly nodded. His stomach muscles were just sore. Even sitting up hurt; he really didn't want to have to puke again. Just for Beau, he took a small sip of water.

"Excuse me," Caleb said, appearing on Molly's right like a ghost. "I could not help but overhear you say that you were experiencing, ah..." He tried a few words in Zemnian before landing on, "Pain, soreness, in the stomach?"

"Yeah," Beau said, and Molly flashed her a grateful smile. His throat was raw from stomach bile, and talking hurt. "Probably from puking too much. Y'know, if you keep that up, I bet you could get a fucking amazing set of abs," she said, elbowing Molly.

"What makes you think mine aren't already stunning?" he retorted.

"I do not think Molly wishes to repeat such... an intense performance," Caleb said, already flipping through one of his books. "Can I have... yes, that, give me that."

Beau tossed him one of the blankets that had been cast aside, and Caleb caught it in one hand, deftly folding it into a compact square and working some sort of magic on it, something that made both his hands and the blanket glow.

"Here," he said at last. "It is enchanted to stay warm for at least a few hours. Not as good as a heating pack, but, under these circumstances..."

"Thank you, Caleb," Molly rasped, nodding his head in gratitude. The folded blanket was warm to the touch, and he peeled off the other blankets to set it on his stomach, the tension instantly draining out of him as warmth spread through his body. The effect was like taking a hot bath after an intense fight – not completely relieving his aches and pains, but making them much more bearable.

Eventually, Molly was able to stand as Beau and Jester moved his bedroll over to the fire, but he gratefully sank back into the blankets as soon as possible. Even with his makeshift heating pad, he was left trembling with both cold and exhaustion, his energy sapped by just a few simple movements.

"You need to eat, Molly!" Jester exclaimed. "It will make you stronger, you know?"

"I'm good, thanks," Molly said, and then, at her intensifying glare, added, "Really, I don't think it's a good idea."

"Well, Fjord is making soup, so! You should eat it anyways."

"'S less of a soup and more of... I dunno. Leftover meat in water?"

"Hot water," Molly said. He was feeling well enough to joke with the others, at least.

He thought to close his eyes and get some rest, but an insistent poking at his shoulder startled Molly out of any chance at sleep, and he turned his head to see Nott crouched next to him, holding a vial in one green hand.

"Here!" she said, pushing the vial into his own hand and closing his fingers around it when he just stared. "You have to drink it!"

"What is this?" Molly asked, holding the vial up to the light. The glass was dirty, nearly opaque, but the liquid inside seemed to be thick and viscous, a texture that made his gorge rise. "Medicine?"

"Yes! Sort of! It will help settle your stomach, make it hurt less. Probably!"

"Nott," Molly said slowly, "did you make this yourself?" She had the chemistry kit, yes, but from the amount of times he had seen her make acid with it, he didn't want to drink anything that came from one of her vials.

"Yeees," she said slowly, stretching the word out. "But it works!" At Molly's doubtful look, she added, "I drank it before, several times! When I had too much to drink, or when I was hungover, or..."

"All right, I get it, thank you," Molly said. "I appreciate the thought."

He uncorked the vial and peered inside. The liquid was a muddy brown, and grit rose to the top as he swirled it. Well, what did he have to lose, besides his lunch? He tipped the contents into his mouth, gagging on the texture but forcing it down in one swallow. The aftertaste was absolutely vile, and he lurched forward, clapping a hand against his mouth as his stomach threatened to revolt.

"You gotta keep it down!" Nott exclaimed. "Otherwise, it doesn't work."

Molly hummed, rocking back and forth as he tried to swallow back the bile that was creeping up his throat. A muffled gag sent the potion flooding into his mouth, filling his cheeks out, and if was only by sheer willpower that he swallowed it down again.

"Ugh," Molly said when the nausea had passed. "You have a stronger stomach than I do, my friend."

Nott beamed at him with a mouthful of sharp teeth, and Molly found the strength to laugh.

After another few minutes of quiet chatter, it became evident that the potion had worked, at least in some capacity. Molly's stomach felt more sure, like that tight queasiness had abated somewhat, and he was able to entertain the thought of food without gagging. Maybe he really was on the mend.

"You know what?" he asked. "Maybe I'll try some of that soup after all."

--

Molly woke up shaking, drenched in sweat, and with a growing sense of queasiness in his belly. He tried to ignore the latter – he had been feeling a bit better, just weak, and he didn't want to get up – but the churning and bubbling under his hand wasn't going away, and he didn't enjoy the thought of soiling the campgrounds.

With a muffled groan, he rolled over, his stomach protesting every move as he stood. It was bloated again, he noticed, far more than last time. Clearly, the soup he'd eaten wasn't sitting well at all.

"You are awake," Caleb observed from his post as watchman. "What are you doing?"

"Need some privacy," Molly said quietly, giving him a small half-smile. He didn't want to wake anyone else, didn't want the attention –

"Are you going to vomit?"

"That too," he muttered.

"I will come with you," Caleb announced. "You are ill, and I would feel – badly, if anything happened to you."

"You don't have to," Molly said, pressing his hand against his sour stomach. His nausea was mounting quickly, a sure sign that he needed to leave before he redecorated the campsite. "You're on watch duty, besides."

"I have this." Caleb gestured to the silver thread wound 'round the perimeter. "I will know if anything happens while we are gone."

"As you wish." Molly pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, burping quietly. He traipsed into the woods yet again, Caleb at his heels. When the dying light of the campfire was no longer visible, he allowed himself to stop, stretching out one arm to lean on a nearby tree and breathing heavily.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he focused on breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth. Beau's exercises didn't make him any less nauseous, but his heart wasn't beating quite so fast, and it helped him breathe through some of the worst cramps.

"Are you still going to vomit?" Molly jumped, nearly forgetting that Caleb was with him. The other man stood a few feet away, head tilted curiously to the side. "I thought you said you were nauseous."

"I will, eventually." Another cramp seized his middle, and Molly winced, bending forward and clamping his hand down on his stomach. The movement jarred a long, deep belch up his throat, and he stayed there for a moment, the taste of acid on the back of his tongue. "It's coming up, just – I'm waiting."

"I see."

Saliva was beginning to collect in Molly's mouth, and he parted his lips, allowed it to fall to the forest floor. No point in holding it back now. "You should head back now, if you don't want to be disgusted. It's not – uuuurp–gh!" A deep, rumbling burp turned into a gag, and Molly clapped his hand against his mouth as he spoke, voice muffled by his fingers. "It's not pretty."

"I am not disgusted," Caleb said, his clipped accent making the words sharper, somehow. "It is merely a function of the body, no more or no less. You are ill, ja? Let your body do what it needs to."

"Mmm." Molly gagged audibly, spitting a glob of thick saliva onto the ground. He felt awful, sick and dizzy again, wanting nothing more than to get this over with.

"Beau said earlier that rubbing your stomach helped, yes? Would you like me to... shall we say, get things started for you?"

"Please," Molly practically begged, shaking with nausea. Caleb silently walked behind him, wrapping his arms around Molly, fingers resting on the base of his stomach. "I can't believe you're not absolutely grossed out by this."

"Like I said, I would like to be of help."

Unlike Jester, Caleb's hands were warm, almost hot to the touch, and Molly wondered if he was doing that with magic. He didn't waste any time, just waited until Molly's stomach cramped and then pushed in, hard.

Molly immediately belched up a hot torrent of vomit, the soup he'd consumed earlier splattering at his feet in a foamy mess. Caleb didn't let up, keeping up a steady pattern of squeezing and then letting go, ushering up wet burps alternating with splashes of thick vomit. Nott's potion, he recognized with disgust. It tasted even worse coming up.

When he was belching emptily, Caleb released his stomach, turning Molly to face him.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"I'm – urp! – waiting on the next round," Molly said. Caleb held out a waterskin, and Molly shook his head queasily.

"You know, vomiting on an empty stomach is never much fun," Caleb insisted quietly.

Molly got a few swallows down before he gagged directly into the waterskin, spraying watery puke onto his hand and arm and down his chest, soaking his nightshirt. He choked on it, coughing and spitting out mouthfuls of water and bile, gulping down gags and trying his best to catch his breath.

When the coughing fit stopped, though, his stomach had stopped churning. The cooling vomit on his shirt and beads of sweat on his forehead let him know that his fever had broken, too.

"That was absolutely vile, but I feel – better," he said under Caleb's questioning gaze. "I didn't catch you in any of that, did I?"

"Oh!" Caleb said, as if he had never even considered the possibility. "No, I believe that my clothing is... unscathed, for now. Are you finished?"

Molly wiped his mouth on his sleeve, making a face. "For now. I'll probably have to puke again later, but I don't enjoy the idea of sitting out here and waiting for it."

"If it would help," Caleb offered, "you might sit with me while you wait for your stomach to settle."

Molly smiled, despite himself. "I just might take you up on that, my friend."

#emetophilia #emeto #do NOT @ me about characterization or anything please... i am new here! #ironically molly is one of the hardest characters for me to get a grasp on so i hope i did him justice! #(rip. i know.) #is caleb into it (tm)? Maybe A Little. but that's just headcanon it's not canon in the fic #supersecretsick #my fic

[negasonicimagines]

TEAM (Part Two)

I forgot to mention that this fic is partially inspired by Lorde’s “Team,” hence the title. Kind of about how no matter how much you and the other characters here bicker, you’re all on each others’ team.

This is the second part to TEAM (Part One) [but I hope that’d be obvious] and therefore is inspired by the same request and has essentially the same trigger warnings.

“So, you and Ellie, huh? About time,” Logan remarks, and you feel yourself blush.

“No! It’s not like that! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d be the luckiest girl in the world, but, uh… No, it’s not like that.”

“Are you sure about that? I’ve seen the way you two are together. When she’s not looking at you or her phone, she’s watching everyone else like a hawk, like they’re threats. Honestly, Piotr’s worried about her.”

At the mention of Wade’s friend, you’re reminded of what Logan said before, about the thing that he knew that he shouldn’t tell her, the thing Wade also knew.

“What was that, anyway? The thing you knew that you didn’t know before that you would’ve told me if you had but couldn’t tell me?”

“I’m afraid that’s Wade’s business.”

“Great,” you remark. “So, I’ll never know.”

“Listen, kid, I know the stuff he said-”

“Screamed.”

“The stuff he screamed at you was pretty fucking awful. But… He had his reasons, okay? Being around him, being as close to him as you were was dangerous. It made you a target,” Logan explains.

“When will you people realize that I can’t die forever?! I’ve died plenty of times, and I always come back! Let me make my own decisions!”

“How many times have you died, Y/N?” Logan asks.

“It’s just… Hard not to starve when my mom kicks me out over school breaks, especially with the metabolism that comes with a healing factor. I can’t stay with Wade all the time, he has himself and Al to worry about. Muggers don’t like when you don’t have money. Mom doesn’t like me when I don’t have money. I don’t know, probably like eight or nine times.”

“You should’ve come here!” Logan scolds, and you want to curl in on yourself, just like before. “I’m sorry. He and I both know just how much dying can fuck you up, so, to hear you say that you’ve died.... And that you don’t care if you do? It’s concerning, to say the least.”

“Boo-hoo, Y/N’s crazy. Who isn’t?” you remark, annoyed at his concern. Men, they always think they know better.

He sighs. “Listen. You should just talk to him, I’m sure-”

“No,” you say, and it comes out as a whimper. The wound was still fresh. “I don’t want to.”

“Hey, he’s not gonna hurt you,” Logan reassures you. “He probably feels bad for what he said, and-”

“I said no,” you cut him off, but the sad tone in your voice doesn’t make you sound very convincing.

“And he’s not gonna apologize unless he thinks you wanna hear it. You know how Wade gets when he feels guilty, he doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

“Well, I don’t wanna hear an apology. I just want him to be my friend again, like before. That’s it. I don’t care to know why, or how, or whatever. I just miss my friend,” you admit, and Logan sighs.

“Okay...”

“Is it alright if I go? I wanna get started on my Chemistry homework.”

“Yeah,” Logan says. “Go ahead. See you next Wednesday. Or, sooner, if you need anything.”

You leave the gym, making your way to your dorm  with your head down, when you bump into a familiar red-suited man.

“Sorry,” you squeak, not even able to meet the eyes of the mask, before attempting to go past him. He stops you, grabbing at your shoulder, but you flinch away. “Please d-don’t…”

“Y/N…” Wade murmurs, filled with remorse at his rampage. He’d made you scared of him, which means it worked, but he regrets how much it hurt you. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“You’re not, huh?” Ellie, swiftly approaching, asks. “Pretty sure you already did, Deadpool.”

“I just wanted-” he starts, but Ellie, your avenging angel, cuts him off.

“You just wanted what, huh? To terrorize them more, is that it?

“Terrorize? I-”

“You what? Didn’t? Because as someone who sleeps in the same room as Y/N, I can confirm that you did. They cry in their sleep like they did the day it happened. Did you know that, that you made them cry? I guess you do now. So, leave, before I decide I’m going to follow you out the door and blow you to Hell.”

“E-Ellie, I said not to hurt him,” you quietly tell her, and she clenches her fists, grumbling.

“You did?” Wade asks.

“Of course,” you respond meekly, tapping the tips of your fingers together and avoiding the gaze of everyone around you. and Ellie places an arm around you, glaring at Wade without mercy.

“I’m- I’m so sorry, Y/N. I- I just didn’t know what to do, so much was happening. I was so angry at the situation, so scared for your safety, and I took all that aggression out on you, the one person I should’ve been channeling those feelings into protecting, and I- I know I already said it, but I’m a blabbermouth with nothing else to say, so… I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, kid. I know you probably don’t care, you just wanna start over and stay the hell away from me, but I’m sorry. And my door’s always open.”

“Thank you. I forgive you,” you nod, smiling a little, You’re already starting to feel better, more like yourself.

“You what?” Ellie questions, shaking with anger. “He hurt you. He shouldn’t ever be forgiven.”

“She’s right,” Wade agrees, head down.

“Well, it’s my forgiveness, and I can do whatever the hell I want with it,” you remind them, shrugging.

“There she is,” Wade says quietly, and you can somehow tell that he’s smiling. You don’t know if it’s body language, tone of voice, or what, but he’s smiling.

“I’m sorry for making you worry. I’m gonna keep living here, and I’m gonna keep taking better care of myself, so no one has to worry about me again,” you inform him.

“Wrong goal, but I appreciate the method. I don’t mind worrying about you, kid, but I’d rather worry about you not doing your homework than about the next time you’re gonna collapse on my porch, dead.”

“What?” Ellie wonders, and you groan. “Wait, have you died?”

“Goddammit, Wade,” you grumble. “She didn’t know that.”

“H-how?”

“Not important,” you tell her.

“No, it is, Y/N. You want all of us to get over the fact that you can die, but the truth is that you need to get over the fact that we care if you die,” Wade corrects you. There’s no malice in his tone, but the words themselves cause anxiety to slither out of the pit of your stomach like a snake and curl around your lungs and heart, maintining a tight grip.

“It’s because of you not eating or sleeping enough, isn’t it?” Ellie asks. “That’s what you guys were in that fight about the other morning, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you admit, and Ellie closes her eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath and trying to remain calm for your sake, for her own sake.

“Right,” she responds, sighing. “Well, I’m not letting that happen again.”

“Challenge accepted,” you chuckle, and she rolls her eyes.

“I was just on my way back to Photography. Forgot my camera. See you later.”

She makes her way in the direction of the classroom, disappearing around a corner.

“Man, if she didn’t hate me before, she sure does now,” Wade says, and you smile, shaking your head. “Really?” he asks.

“Photography is Mondays and Thursdays… And she didn’t even have her camera.”

Wade scoffs. “Well, she’s definitely taking good care of you. I always knew she would, one day. When did you two finally make it official?  I’m sorry that I missed it.”

“We haven’t made anything official, Wade, she doesn’t like me like that. We’re just close friends.”

He rolls his eyes, going to playfully shove your shoulder, but you flinch away. He sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I- I was so cruel, I just wanted to say whatever i could to get you away, to protect you, from m-”

“From what? The thing Logan keeps talking about?”

“What thing?” he asks, sounding a bit panicked.

“He keeps saying that there’s this thing he knows that he would’ve told me if he’d known before but he shouldn’t tell me now. It’s super weird, but he said you were going to tell me before you- You-” You stop yourself from continuing, still, shaking a little bit at the memory. It was only the day before yesterday.

“Yeah,” he responds quietly. “It was part of the reason I did that. I just- Us being friends was already dangerous, and you being- You- You’re- I- I’m so sorry I left you with her, if I’d known, if I’d known she was pregnant...I would’ve done the right thing! I’m not that kind of dirtbag, you’ve gotta believe me, and I’m just so, so sorry. Everything that’s wrong with your life, maybe it wouldn’t have happened if I’d just thought- If I’d just thought, but I was young, and stupid, and there’s nothing I can do now except own up to it, own up to the fact that I- I am- I’m- Oh, please…” He practically falls into you, wrapping his arms around your neck. You feel him shake with sobs, and you cry, too, but with a different emotion. Not regret, but happiness.

“You? You’re him?” you ask, and he readjusts himself, backing away from you.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked before hugging, I just didn’t think it was gonna be so hard, and you’re my best friend, and I- I don’t know, I don’t know. I’m so sorry that I’m your father.”

“You are? You’re sorry?” you ask, knowing that he’s apologizing because he regrets it, regrets you and your entire existence.

“Not in the way you’re thinking! You- You deserve so much better, I wanted so much better for you,” he reassures you, or, at least, attempts to.

“How do you even know?”

“I just… I talked to Xavier to see if he had any connections that could help me find your father, and he said he did, but he insisted that I give him a sample of my DNA to see if they match before he used his connections. I laughed it off, but then… it was a match.”

“How’d you get my DNA?” You wonder.

“Oh, I stuck a cotton swab in your mouth while you were sleeping. Wasn’t hard, you’re a really heavy sleeper,” he says, and you have a faint memory of the dream you had about a week ago where you were abducted by aliens that wanted to harvest your DNA to create genetically modified pet humans for their home planet. You laugh.

“So, you found out it was a match, and then… You were angry about it? Hated that the Wilson family legacy wasn’t going to end with you?”

“No. I was angry, yeah, but at myself. I was irresponsible, and my best friend in the whole world sufferred because of it. I never recognized your mom the times I’d seen her, and we had sex!”

“You had sex with my mom? Bro code violation alert!” you joke, and he chuckles bitterly.

“Right?” he responds. “But… I don’t even know where to go from here. Things can’t go back to normal, that’s not okay. I need to step up. And, even if it was the right thing to do, going back to normal… I get the feeling that you’re not gonna be that comfortable around me for a while. I was… I was just like my dad. My worst fucking fear.”

“You’re not him, okay? I promise.”

“I should be comforting you,” he says, stepping towards you. Out of renewed instinct, you step back. He’s heartbroken.

“Try- Try not to take it personally, I’m like this with just about everybody,” you attempt to make him feel better, but he shakes his head.

“You haven’t been like this with me, not before- Before I did what I did. Said those things, those awful, untrue things. Why did I say those things? They weren’t the truth, they were the opposite of it. I love hearing from you, it makes every day better. Finding you on my couch is a great feeling, knowing that someone as great as you trusts me, sees me as someone who can keep them safe.”

“And my memes?” You ask in a sarcastically accusatory tone.

“The funniest,” he replies. “Can I- Can I give you a hug?”

You nod, and he surges forward, wrapping you up in his arms and spinning you around.

“I always hoped it’d be like that,” you quietly admit, and he beams.

“Listen, we can talk later at dinner. I think you’ve got a certain girl you need to talk to, and she and her metal accomplice are approaching.”

“I think she’s his accomplice,” you correct with a laugh.

“Gotta bounce before the hardest guy on Earth ropes me into another mission. I’ll be back, though, kid.”

“Yeah. See you soon…”

“Wade’s fine for now, unless you wanna call me something else. We can negotiate later, ‘kay? Love you, bye.” Wade scurries down the hall, not realizing that he’s going towards the dorms, not the exit.

“Wade Wilson!” calls Piotr from behind you, and you turn around to see that Ellie is far closer to you than she is to Piotr, having gone faster on her smaller, lighter legs.

“Uh, hello…” you say dumbly.

“Based on your expression, I’d say that discussion went well.”

“Very well. Thank you for giving him the opportunity to talk to me alone, I’m sure you didn’t wanna do that.”

“I didn’t, but I figured it was the best option. Tell me more on the way to the dorm.”

“Well, uh… He apologized, a lot. Not just for the fights.”

“For letting you die?”

“No. Worse.”

“Holy shit, what’d he do, and why haven’t I heard about it?” She asks, tense.

“Because I didn’t know,” you reply defensively. “He’s- He’s my biological father, Ellie.”

“Whoa… Seriously? How long has he known?”

“I don’t know, but not long, the DNA tests were recently. He just wanted to help me find my dad and when he asked Xavier if he had any way of helping, the Professor said that he had to submit a sample to be tested. Turn’s out the old man’s hunch was right. You… You still wanna be friends, right?”

“Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I?” Ellie wonders.

“I just- I know you don’t like Wade very much, and I’m technically his daughter, so…”

“So? That doesn’t mean I don’t love you anymore,” Ellie argues, and then covers her mouth.

“You love me?”

“Yeah, but just, like, in a friend way,” she plays it off rather smoothly, in her opinion, but you sigh in disappointment before you can stop yourself. “Wait, do you love me in a not-friend way?”

“Not really sure what you wanna hear,” you respond, feeling the recently-sealed cracks in your heart refracturing.

“Do you?” she asks.

You’re silent as the two of you walk to your shared dorm.

“Y/N, I asked you a question. Do you love me as a friend, or as more?”

You feel overheated and nauseous, that’s how nervous you are. You attempt to take some steadying breaths before answering: “More.”

“Oh, thank god…” she sighs. “I- I told you on Monday, when you fell asleep with me. But you were asleep, so, you didn’t hear me… Duh… I sound so stupid right now, don’t I?”

“No, not at all! Jeez, today just keeps getting better and better, I mean it!” You exclaim.

“Can- Can I kiss you?” Ellie asks nervously, and your eyes widen, but you nod. She takes your face in her hands and just goes for it, pressing her lips to yours. You respond immediately, wrapping your arms around her neck while her hands slip past your face and into your hair, tugging gently. You let out a small, quiet moan at that, and you can feel her smirk a little. She kisses you faster, pushing her body closer to yours, and your knees give out. She catches you in the nick of time, laughing a bit at how easily flustered you are as she nudges you toward the bed, sitting there with you. “Your knees are right, we probably shouldn’t rush into things.”

“Yeah…” you admit, resting your head on her shoulder.

“I love you…” She mumbles. “I’ve loved you for a long time, actually.”

“Same here. When did you know?”

Ellie replies: “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“I can tell you first, if you want,” you offer.

“Yeah, do that…” She says.

“I just realized that every time I was upset, you were there, making me feel better. Even if you didn’t know it. Every time my mom hit me, or I got stabbed by an asshole mugger, or I was about to faint from hunger… You were right there. Making my life better just by existing.”

“I wish I could’ve been right there in person, to help you,” Ellie says, and you shake your head.

“That’s not the point. The point is that you did, without even trying. You always make me happy, without even trying.You just have to be there and everything is better.”

“That’s really nice… I feel dumb now,” Ellie confesses.

“It’s not dumb! Probably not, I mean…” you reply, nuzzling her chest a bit as you try to get a bit cozier.

“Um...You probably don’t know this, but I used to get in fights a lot before we met. And Piotr would always lecture me, telling me it wasn’t heroic to fight out of anger. That I should fight for something, not because of something. That I should be aware of the consequences that come with fighting, and truly think about them before I did. I never understood what he meant, and then we met and became friends… Then best friends…

“I didn’t even realize that before every fight, even the ones I was assigned, I’d think about how I was going to make the world a better place for you. I’d think about what you would think if you heard what I was doing. I- I made a mistake at one point, got angry over nothing and got into another stupid, pointless fight. It was the first time in awhile I’d heard Colossus’s spiel, and I realized my thinking process with every world he spoke. It all just made me think of how I feel about you. You’d made me a better person, more mindful of the consequences of my actions, my thoughtless, immature violence. That’s when I knew.”

“Oh, shut up! That’s way better than mine and not embarrassing at all! Show-off,” you remark, and she chuckles.

“That was fucking beautiful!” Wade wails from behind the door.

“I think I liked it better when you two weren’t friends,” Ellie comments, and you smile at her, shaking your head. She takes your hand in hers and squeezes gently.

“Oh, come on. You can’t hate him. I mean, I wouldn’t exist without him, for a few reasons. I mean, he’s the one who passed me the gene for a healing factor, even if his was recessive before. And, I mean, he’s the sperm donor either way.”

“I heard that!” he shouts, and Ellie smiles at you, planting another kiss on your lips.

You could get used to this.

#negasonic teenage warhead #negasonic teenage warhead x reader #negasonic teenage warhead imagine #negasonicteenageimagines #ellie phimister imagine #Ellie Phimister #ellie phimister x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #x-men #x-men fanfiction #xmen #xmen fanfiction #wlw #wlw fanfiction #wlw imagine #marvel imagine #x-men imagine #xmen imagine #lesbian #lesbian fanfiction #lesbian imagine #lgbt fanfiction #lgbt imagine #sapphic content #sapphic fanfic #fanfic

[odaatlover]

Mrs. Nicole Earp walks in on a very intimate moment between her daughter and a vibrator. She runs to Waverly in a panic, who has to ease her wife into the idea that their little girl can’t stay little forever.

*Note: All prompts will be tagged as “weprompt” and smutty prompts will be tagged as “taco”

———

“Well that was boring,” Nicole said with an eye roll as she followed her wife through the front door.

Waverly backhanded the redhead in the upper arm. “Don’t be disrespectful! School open houses are important and we should be grateful to be given the opportunity to meet our daughter’s teachers and hear how well she’s doing in their classes.”

Nicole narrowed her eyes and folded her arms across her chest.

Waverly pursed her lips in an attempt to hold in her thoughts, but the dam inevitably broke. “And it was boring,” she finally breathed out in defeat.

“Incredibly boring!”

“So, so boring.” Waverly shook her head as she groaned. “I mean, does Kaitlyn Wagner really have to ask that same question every year? Of course you have to leave your son’s medication with the school nurse! The rules aren’t just going to magically change over the summer!”

“Right?! And what’s with those horrible cookies they always have? You can’t eat bricks! I swear they’re in cahoots with the dental industry.” Nicole scowled as she shook her head. “I mean, is it so wrong to just want a soft, moist cookie that melts in your mouth?” Nicole huffed out in frustration.

The corners of Waverly’s mouth turned up in an amused smile as she stepped towards the agitated redhead and wrapped her arms around the woman’s neck, threading her hands through the light red hair – something she knew her wife loved. “Aw, baby, do you want me to make you some cookies tonight?”

With her hands resting on the shorter woman’s hips, Nicole sighed as she looked up in thought. “I shouldn’t. You know I can’t eat just one of your cookies, and I need to watch my figure.”

“I’ll watch your figure for you.” Waverly smirked as she dropped her hands down to Nicole’s backside and gave it a firm slap.

“Oh,” Nicole grinned as she tightened her grip on Waverly’s hips. “Well in that case, make me all the cookies.”

“Okay,” Waverly chuckled lightly. “How about you go check on our daughter to make sure she’s still alive, and I’ll make my world-famous double chocolate chunk cookies?”

Nicole’s eyelids fluttered in ecstasy as she inhaled through her nose, as if she could already smell the delicious baked goods. “Deal.” She quickly smacked Waverly’s butt, earning an unamused ‘hey!’ from the brunette before running off towards the stairs to escape the expected retaliation. 

She gave a couple of quick knocks on her daughter’s door while simultaneously pushing it open. “Hey nugget, we’re home!” She sang with a grin, but as soon as she laid eyes on the girl, she froze.

“Mom!” Noelle yelled from her bed as she quickly shut off the vibrator and yanked the small silver bullet out of her cotton sleep shorts.

Nicole stared at the vibrator in her daughter’s hands as she let it all sink in. She tightened her grip on the metal door knob, hoping that it would somehow help keep her grounded. And after what felt like several minutes – but was really only a few short seconds –  Nicole finally regained control over her motor functions.

“Sorry!” She exclaimed without making eye contact with her daughter before hastily reversing out of the room and shutting the door. With her hand still on the knob, she stared at the door as she felt panic begin to ensue, and sprinted down the stairs and towards the kitchen, where she immediately began to pace.

Waverly cut off the hand mixer and looked behind her with a raised eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

Nicole paused and opened her mouth to say something, but quickly shut it before continuing her oscillating stride, only this time with a hand over her forehand.

Waverly abandoned the mixing bowl and shuffled towards her wife. “What’s wrong? Noelle is alive, isn’t she?” She was mostly joking, but the mama bear part of her had to be sure.

With a breathy chuckle, Nicole fervently nodded her head. “Oh, she’s alive alright.”

Waverly drew her eyebrows together in confusion as she shook her head. She reached out and grabbed Nicole’s shoulders, stopping the perturbed woman from her constant movement. “Babe, sit down. You’re stressing me out.”

The redhead plopped down in the kitchen chair as she stared blankly off into space.

With a concerned look, Waverly lovingly rubbed Nicole’s forearm that was resting on the table in order to calm the officer down. “What’s wrong? What happened? Talk to me.”

Nicole slowly turned her head the small distance until her eyes landed on Waverly’s before saying, “Noelle found your vibrator.”

Waverly leaned back a little with raised eyebrows at the unexpected confession. “What was she doing with it?”

Nicole pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes as she gave Waverly a knowing look.

Waverly slowly nodded her head. “Ah, gotcha. Well, which one was it?”

“Bullet.”

Waverly continued to nod as she calmly exhaled through her nose before scrunching her eyebrows as a thought popped into her head. “Do you think she cleaned it before using it?”

Nicole hardened her gaze at the brunette. “Seriously? That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“Well, I don’t want her to get a UTI or anything…” Waverly shrugged.

“Waverly, I just walked in on our daughter—” she paused as she looked around at the stairs before turning back and continuing in a hushed voice, “masturbating.”

“Better you than me,” Waverly replied with a light chuckle as she relaxed in her chair and casually folded her arms across her chest.

Nicole’s mouth popped open at the unexpected response. “How are you so calm about this? She’s too young to be thinking about stuff like that!”

Waverly rolled her eyes as she dropped her arms. “Nic, she’s fourteen. She’s not exactly a baby anymore. She’s a young wom—”

“Don’t say it,” Nicole interrupted with closed eyes as she held up her hand. “She’s not anywhere close to being a woman yet.”

Waverly quirked an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Tell that to her menstrual cycle that started nearly two years ago, and the professional bra fitting that I had to take her to…alone.” She gave her wife a knowing look.

Nicole shook her head. “I don’t care about that stuff. I can handle that. But sex? I’m not ready for her to be thinking about sex. She’s still our little nugget.”

“Honey, it’s going to happen whether you’re ready for it to or not. She’s a teenager, and she’s in high school now. Her hormones are all over the place, and I can guarantee you that it probably wasn’t the first time she’s touched herself.”

Nicole winced at the words. 

“Besides, I thought we were trying to be the type of parents that encouraged sexual development?”

“We are. I just wasn’t ready for this yet.” Nicole dropped her forehead down onto the table with a groan as Waverly supportively rubbed the back of her head. “She’s having orgasms. Which means she knows how good they feel, which means she no longer thinks sex is gross. And pretty soon, she’s going to have a girlfriend, or boyfriend—”

“Or a non-binary partner,” Waverly added pointedly.

Nicole lifted her head off the table with a nod. “Right, or a non-binary partner, and she’s going to start having sex with them, and I can’t handle the thought of someone else touching our precious little girl.”

“Nicole, my love,” Waverly wrapped her hands around both of Nicole’s as the redhead looked up at her with sad, brown eyes, resembling that of a puppy. “Noelle is fourteen. Fourteen. And in three months, she’ll be fifteen. She’s not a little girl anymore; she’s a young adult, who has a normal, healthy sex drive and a curiosity for how her body works. And the sooner you accept that, the better and the more open your relationship with her is going to be. This is the age where she’s figuring out who she is, and if you try to suppress her growth because you’re too afraid to let go of the idea that’s she’s still a baby, I can guarantee that it’s going to do more harm than good for both of you. So, Nicole Rayleigh Earp Haught, I love you, but if you don’t get on board with this I will fight you. And I may be small, but I’m scrappy, so you really don’t want that. Understood?”

With an amused chuckle, Nicole shook her head as she looked at the woman she first fell in love with twenty years ago. “Yes ma’am. Understood.”

“Good.” Waverly replied with a terse nod before sporting a small smile.

Nicole puffed out her cheeks as she dramatically blew out a gust of air. “I walked in on our daughter masturbating.” She shook her head. “That’s surely one for the parenting books.”

“I’m sure that she’s more traumatized than you are.”

Nicole nodded. “We have to talk to her, don’t we…”

“Yeah, we do,” Waverly replied with sympathetic eyes. “But, we’ll do it together.”

Nicole smiled as she gently squeezed the warm hands that were still lovingly wrapped around hers. “Together.”

#weprompt #wayhaught prompt #wynonna earp prompt #wayhaught fanfiction #prompt #wynonna earp fic #wayhaught fic #Waverly Earp #Nicole Haught #waverly x nicole #wynonna earp #wayhaught #gay ships #married wayhaught #wayhaught has a daughter

[themadamelibrarian]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Gabriel/Sam Winchester Characters: Sam Winchester, Gabriel (Supernatural) Additional Tags: Priest Kink, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rough Sex, Light Bondage, Wing Kink Summary: Sam should be careful what he prays for.

Note: Since it’s Easter and you’re probably sitting at a relatives house wondering when the ham or turkey is going to be served or you don’t celebrate and it’s just a Sunday, I thought I’d give you all a little “religious” flavored fic. 

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Sam adjusts the white collar of his priest’s outfit with a smirk on his face. He’d left the bunker to spend the next few days in a hotel with the intention of teasing Gabriel into a quivering mound of goo. And step one, was this outfit. He knew that the Archangel had a thing for him dressed as a man of the cloth but until today he’d never actually thought of using that tidbit of information. He even went so far as to make sure that his face was clean shaven and smooth enough to run over silk stockings without snagging them.

He does one last check of the room to make sure everything is in its place before sinking to his knees beside the bed. Folding his hands together, he bows his head and begins to pray. “O loving messenger of the Incarnation, descend upon all those for whom I wish peace and happiness. Spread your wings over the cradles of the new-born babes, O thou who didst announce the coming of the Infant Jesus. Give to the young a lily petal from the virginal scepter in your hand. Cause the Ave Maria to re-echo in all hearts that they may find grace and joy through Mary. Finally, recall the sublime words spoken on the day of the Annunciation— 'Nothing is impossible with God', and repeat them in hours of trial—to all I love—that their confidence in Our Lord may be reanimated when all human help fails. Amen.” The last line of the prayer is accompanied by the sound of wings echoing through the room.

Gabriel stands behind Sam with his hands shoved in his pockets and chuckles. “A little flowery don’t you think?”

Sam slowly stands and turns to face the angel, the white of his collar shining like a beacon in the dimly lit room. Gabriel’s jaw drops open in shock when he gets a good look at him. A spike of want jarring through his body as golden brown eyes travel over Sam from head to toe. “It seemed only appropriate that I send you a respectful prayer. Unless you’d prefer something...different.” Sam’s voice is low and reverent as if he’s actually standing in a church instead of a hotel room.

“Some-something different?” Gabriel stutters out.

“Of course.” Sam closes his eyes and directs a new kind of prayer towards Gabriel without speaking. “Gabriel, I beseech you to touch me. To lay me bare so that I might be filled...” Sam peeks open one eye and gives him a mischievous smile. “with your glorious cock.”.

“Dammit, Sam.” Gabriel moans out as he steps into his personal space and runs a finger over Sam’s collar. “Do you have any idea what this does to me?”

Sam gently places his hand on Gabriel's waist and runs his thumbs over the soft flesh of Gabriel’s stomach through his shirt. “I have a vague idea, but I could do with a bit of clarification. A man can only run on the faith of what he can’t see for so long.”

A choked gasp breaks free from Gabriel’s throat as he surges up and pulls Sam into a heated kiss. Their mouths pressing together and each of them taking their time to suck and nip at each other's lips. The feeling of Sam’s tongue sliding along his own was so deliciously filthy that all he could do was thread his fingers through his long chestnut hair and hold on. Sam’s hands drift down until they’re gripping the round curves of Gabriel’s ass, pulling him forward until their growing erections press together through their clothing. The Archangel breaks the kiss with panting breath and begins to back Sam up towards the bed. “I’m going to enjoy watching you shake apart beneath me, Priest.” his voice is low and thick with desire.

“If that’s the penance I must pay for my sins, then I’ll do so with a glad heart.” Sam’s legs hit the edge of the bed, causing him to topple backward. Gabriel gives him no time to right himself before he’s crawling into the taller man’s lap. His hands skimming beneath Sam’s coat until his fingers brush over hardened nipples. Arching into the touch, Sam lets out a quiet moan as he rolls his hips up in search of some sort of contact to relieve the growing ache in his cock.

Gabriel leans forward to suck a line of kisses along Sam’s jaw. “You think I am that easy?” he purrs as he slips a hand between them to palm at his bedmate’s erection, pulling a low groan from him. “I won’t be the one to break. You will.” Using a touch of his grace, he binds Sam’s hands to the bed. At first, Sam tugs his hands as he looks at Gabriel with a protest on his lips. Gabriel brushes his lips against Sam’s ear. “You can tell me to stop at any time, Sam. I would never hurt you.” he sits up so that he can look into the eyes of his lover. “Do you want to stop?”

Sam slowly licks his lips as he thinks about it. All too quickly he’s shaking his head. “Don’t stop, Gabriel. Please don’t stop.” He cranes his neck in search of a kiss. A search that Gabriel ends by dipping down and claiming his lips in a searing kiss. With tongue and breath, he devours every sigh and whimper. His hand busy with gripping Sam through his trousers, stroking every granite-like inch of him. With an arch of his back, Sam whines low in his throat. “Please, Gabriel.”

“Tell me, Samuel. What are you pleading for?” Gabriel sits back on Sam’s thighs, letting the hand not otherwise occupied, caress over the prone man’s shirt front. Stopping to gently circle each nipple until he could feel them harden through their cotton covering.

Sam opens his glassy, lust filled eyes. “To feel you inside me.” he sighs as he writhes under the onslaught of sensations going through his body from Gabriel’s skilled fingers.

Smirking, Gabriel rocks his hips, putting a little added pressure to the back of his hand to set a more regular rhythm to his touch on Sam’s erection. “Not yet. I want to watch you first.”

“Oh. Oh, God.” Sam exclaims as he feels pre-come wet the front of his boxers. Rocking faster into Gabriel’s palm, a coil of tense pleasure builds deep inside him.

“Blasphemy, Samuel. Mind your tongue or I’ll mind it for you.” The Archangel bends down to nip at his bottom lip. His own desire making him ache to do as Sam is asking for but he truly wants to see this man lose control without the distraction of seeking his own pleasure.

Turning his head, Sam presses his cheek into his bicep with a choked cry as everything inside him draws tight. He’s teetering on the edge but a tinge of embarrassment holds him back. He’s not come in his pants in years and here is Gabriel being unrelenting in his desire to see such a thing. Which shouldn’t be frustrating but Sam finds himself extremely turned on by the thought of being watched like this.

“There we go, Samuel. Let go. Show me how much you love my touch.” Gabriel whispers to him as his hand squeezes him a little tighter as the Angel grinds down into the warm lap under him. Sam’s mouth falls open, letting out short little pants of breath until a long, low moan escapes from his lips. His release pulsing hot and hard into the front of his boxers. Gabriel watches in awe of the sight before him. His own body screaming for something more than simple touches. Once Sam settles down Gabriel removes himself from the taller man’s lap, releasing the hold he had on his wrists. Standing at the foot of the bed Gabriel starts to undress. Sam pushes himself up to recline on his elbows so that he can enjoy the show of precious inches of Gabriel’s body being revealed. “Liking the show, Priest?” The Angel smirks as he removes the last article of clothing.

“Very much.” Sam sighs as he reaches down to undo the button of his pants. With a tilt of his head and crooked smile, Gabriel raises his finger, ticking it back and forth in a ‘no’ gesture.

“Not yet, Sam. I’ve got plans for those pants of yours. But first..” He bends down to run a hand up Sam’s thigh. Without breaking eye contact, he slips his hands around until he can dig his fingers into the fabric covering Sam. With a quick tug, Gabriel tears the seams apart in the seat of both pants and boxers, leaving Sam’s ass exposed to the cool air of the room.

The movement is so unexpected that a yelp of surprise bursts out of Sam. “Gabriel!”

“Did you think I’d let you remove your vestments so that you could forget who you are, Samuel?” He says as he pulls Sam by the hips towards the edge of the bed and flips him over so that he’s bent over and open to Gabriel’s mercy.

Sam grunts at the sudden movement. “I was hoping.” The pretense of the game slipping away as he pushes himself up onto his hands to look over his shoulder with a wicked smile and a little wiggle of his hips. “Nightstand.” is all he says.

Gabriel smiles at the hunter’s foresight when he spies the nightstand where Sam had left a bottle of water and another of lubricant. Taking a few quick steps, he retrieves the smaller bottle and returns to his place behind Sam. Drizzling the liquid over his fingers, he rubs them together to evenly disburse the slick before running his fingers along the cleft of Sam’s ass.

With little hums of anticipation, Sam cants his hips back in hopes that there would be more than light touches which were starting to drive him crazy. This is what he’d been wanting all night, hell he’d been wanting this all week and now he was so close and all Gabriel was doing was teasing him. “Dammit Gabriel, would you stop playing around and get inside me.” he growls as he pushes against the angel’s hand, making the tip of one of the fingers press against his opening. Gabriel sees Sam’s head tilt back in pleasure. With a shake of his head at how impatient Sam can be, he pushes the finger forward until it’s sheathed inside.

At first, Sam finds the intrusive sting a little unpleasant but that quickly changes as Gabriel carefully works him open. Each thrust and twist of Gabriel’s fingers sending waves of pleasure through him until he’s panting out Gabriel's name.

Placing several small kisses along the nape of Sam’s neck, he slowly withdraws his fingers and moves to generously slicken up his own aching cock. “Ready for me, Samuel?” The taller man nods as he braces himself on his forearms and spreads his knees a little wider.

“Yes, Gabriel. Need to feel you inside me.” Sam groans into the covers.

Gabriel lines up his cockhead with Sam’s pliant opening and sinks into him down to the root with a hiss at the tight squeeze of muscles around him. “Oh. Fuck, Samuel. You’re so damned tight. This may not last long.” Sam inhales sharply as he’s filled, reveling in the stretch Gabriel’s cock creates. They both held still for several moments, each of them adjusting in their own ways. When he feels that he can control himself, Gabriel pulls back at an agonizingly slow pace until he’s about to slip out before thrusting forward with a snap of his hips. The movement making both of them cry out. Sam’s fingers claw into the bedspread below him as he pushes into each of Gabriel’s thrusts. Sam was pleasantly surprised as his cock began to swell once more. He was used to needing more time to recover from orgasms before regaining the ability to go a second round. Lifting his hips to give him just enough room, Sam slips his hand under him and opens the fly of his pants. Pulling out his cock, Sam gently strokes himself in time with Gabriel’s thrusts.

Gabriel runs his hand up Sam’s spine until his fingers card into his long hair. Closing his fingers, he tugs on Sam’s hair until the brunettes head tips back. The angel nips at the shell of Sam’s ear as he pounds into him, chasing after his own release which he can already feel the telltale tingle running along his wings that are safely hidden from human sight. “Tell me you’re close, Sam.” he pants “Don’t know how much longer I can hold off. This suit...your ass...dangerous combo.”

“Want to see you, Gabe.” Sam pleads as he tries to twist his head around to look at Gabriel. “Got to see me come. Want to see you come too.”

Groaning, Gabriel releases his hold on Sam’s hair and carefully pulls out. Sam goes to turn himself over when Gabriel grabs ahold of him and manhandles him onto his back. Reminding Sam for the second time that night that he is dealing with a being with far more strength than his vessel conveys. A fact that makes Sam’s heart race with excitement and a touch of fear from too many years of hunting creatures stronger than him. Crawling back until he’s in the middle of the bed, Sam expects a bit more teasing but from the look Gabriel was giving him, that wasn’t anywhere near what the Archangel had planned. Before he could overthink the situation, Gabriel was kissing him with such intensity and passion that it would have made Sam weak in the knees if he wasn’t already laying down. Gabriel grabs Sam’s legs and wraps them around his waist so that he can push into him once again.

Any sound that Sam would have made at that moment was muted as Gabriel slides his tongue in alongside Sam’s. He seems to flounder for a moment in indecision on where to put his hands first, but Gabriel helps him by taking his hand and guiding it between them and wrapping their fingers around Sam’s now dripping hard cock. Pulling from the kiss with a gasp, Gabriel rests his forehead against Sam’s. “Come on, Sam. Let me have it.”

Sam places his free hand on the back of Gabriel’s neck to hold him right where he was. “Love you, Gabriel,” he whispers as he feels his orgasm building until it’s a nearly unbearable pressure that needs just the right push to explode.

“I love you too, Sam. From Wingtip to tail.” Gabriel mutters in response just as his own release starts rolling through him. He has no time for utter a warning so he pulls his hand from between them and claps it over Sam’s eyes just as he shouts out in pleasure as he comes the harder than he has in years. The sensory overload on his grace flows over the boundaries of his vessel until the room is filled with a bright, eye-searing light.

The lack of sight and the sound of Gabriel’s cries was the push that Sam needed. With a shout of Gabriel’s name, Sam arches up against him as he shoots thick ropes of come. When the light of Gabriel’s grace fades, they’re both left panting for much-needed air as they come down the initial post-orgasmic high. Gabriel’s gentle in his movements as he pulls out and flops down beside Sam.

“I’m having that suit bronzed and hung on my wall,” Gabriel says as he throws an arm over his eyes.

Chuckling, Sam makes an effort to remove the jacket but is too jelly limbed to do much but shift the lapel. “Gotta get it off me first and I’m not moving to do it at the moment. Besides, it’s destroyed.”

“That’s why I’m having it bronzed.” With a snap of Gabriel’s fingers, Sam’s clothes disappear.

“You’re not really going to bronze them, are you?” Sam asks as he turns over and rests his chin on Gabriel’s chest. “Because that’s kind of... gross.”

“Says the guy with a prayer kink.” Gabriel teases as he reaches up to run his fingers through Sam’s damp hair.

“You’ve got a point. A weak one, but I’m not going to argue. ‘m too relaxed to argue.” Sam lets his eyes drift shut as he listens to Gabriel’s heartbeat. That’s when something Gabriel said comes back to him and his eyes snap back open. “Um...Gabe? When did you get a tail?”

@copperseraphim @truxblooded

#Sabriel #Supernatural #Sam Winchester #Gabriel #My Writing #Madamelibrarian's Writing

[clown-bait]

29 Neibolt ST (Monster Roommate AU) Chapter 3

Alright friends things are heating up. Pennyboi learns how to deal with feelings and Leech gets a job. Some weird stuff with meat happens. Leatherface is a pure beautiful soul and must be protected. Next chapter will contain SMUT.

Warnings: Mild Nsfw, Blood, Swearing, Drug Use, Alcohol, Fluff. 

CHAPTER 3

Help.

The young vampire to be had been there a full month now and she hated to admit it but she had never been happier. This was truly a new start for her. People even stopped calling her by her original name preferring to use the one Pennywise had given her when they first met. It was meant as an insult but it fit her so well she kept it. She was a bloodsucker now after all. Lucy was gone Leech was who she was now. She had a new job lined up, new friends, a great mentor and she was even given a wig by Leatherface as a housewarming gift when her hair began to fall out. Aside from the impending death and losing humanity thing….and that damn clown…. this was nice. This could work.

Movie night at the Neibolt house was a big event. Everyone joined in even Pennywise who usually kept to himself but when Dracula insisted he join in to make a certain proto-vampire happy the clown reluctantly agreed. He hated that the elder vampire knew about his affliction.

When Dracula found out about it he had been confronting the clown over his disheveled state. “You seem less cruel to my young apprentice and you look like you have stopped feeding. You are infatuated.”

“Infat- What?! No! Leech is, she’s, well we’re just………I mean….I……..…..what do I do.” He was weak and defeated. Pennywise had never had a positive feeling like this before and Dracula was the only one other than Chucky that knew how to deal with this sort of thing.

“You must pursue her it'll be healthy for the both of you! My poor apprentice has been worried sick about her transition for weeks now! Yes! ROMANCE HER WOO HER GIVE HER YOUR LOVE.” The elder vampire was a complete hopeless romantic.

“I was just going to go back to eating my feelings till this goes away?”

“NAY YOU MUST COURT THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN. I HAVE FAILED IN LOVE BUT YOU CHILD YOU STILL HAVE A CHANCE”

“One, I'm way older than you. Two no.”

“LOOK AT YOURSELF BOY, YOU ARE WASTING AWAY IN LOVE! GIVE HER YOUR HEART END YOUR ETERNAL LONELINESS.”

“What part of older than you do you- never mind lets pretend this never happened.”

“YOU WILL SEE SOON ENOUGH BOY, YOU WILL SEE THAT YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM LOVE.”

Pennywise hated how that he was right about that. He tried eating more and began to look healthy again until Leech walked by in the kitchen two days later and gave him a damn compliment. Who does she think she is telling him he looked extra scary today. The nerve!

“At least theres popcorn” he grumbled plopping down onto one of the couches. Having two giant monsters in the house plus a very territorial cat required multiple couches and chairs so everyone could fit around the old antique tv.

“Whats on the menu tonight boys” Freddy says opening a beer taking up a whole lazy boy to himself.

“Something we can do a drinking game with please?” came Leech’s request from the kitchen she was busy making drinks for her new friends after she bragged she could make them killer cocktails that would knock their socks off. It also to try to persuade Leatherface to put in a good word for her when applied for the position of bartender at the newly remodeled Sawyer’s.  Dracula was assisting her while carefully watching her glances and shy smiles whenever she heard Penny’s bells. The elder vampire had never had a protege before and he had to admit her fiery personality was growing on him, shed make a fine creature of the night eventually he just had to get her past her unwillingness to change. Leech found it annoying that he was constantly nagging her about her transition. Tonight it was all about how vampires cant hold their liquor. But she liked her mentor, he was like the father she never had and she would often find herself coming to him with questions not only about her condition but also life in general.

“Atta girl Leech you're a woman after my own dead heart” Freddy shouted back the two had been bonding more smoking on the porch talking shit about people who got on their nerves that day. They did have quite a few things in common one was tequila and the other was epic amounts of sass. Pennywise did feel a twinge of jealousy over it but knew if he said something Freddy would tell everyone the eldritch embodiment of fear had a big stupid crush on someone he normally considered food.

“All right guys heres my official audition for bartender at Sawyer’s. Tip jar is on the counter for when all you assholes are blown away by how great I am.” she boasted passing out the drinks.

“Big talk for someone who's tolerance is sinking faster than the Titanic” said Chucky

“Shut up and drink doll. I’ll let my talent do all the ass kicking for me.”

“What the hell is this?” Freddy asked poking the puffy pice of spun sugar

“Cotton candy martinis bitch!”

Pennywise choked on his popcorn.

She begun finishing handing them out and as Penny picked his up his giant hand touched hers. They blinked at each other for a second. “Something wrong Pen? Did I uh offend you with the circus flavors?”

“Oh um no no just something on your um something on your face!” Dracula rolled his eyes at him dramatically from the kitchen.

“Oh where.” Leech frowned.

“Its um… no stop stop! Don't touch it. Just let me do it..” The clown quickly pretended to wipe something off her nose. “nailed it.” He thought.

Chucky's eyes grew wide when he saw the exchange. “No fucking way” he whispered.

Leatherface was delighted at the sweet drink. He even giggled when his friend put the cotton candy in the liquor and it dissolved. “So you think I got the job big guy?” he grunted happily in approval “Aw shucks Bubba you're the best!” she hugged the lovable giant murderer. Leech smiled wide with cockiness “nailed it.” She said to herself.

————

“Wait you only have a waitress job??? But I thought I was applying to be a bartender!?” she complained at the giant the next day. She wasn't mad at him though it was the rest of his family’s fault probably. They Sawyer clan were a bunch of boys they needed a cute girl in the restruant to be the bait for their…. meat source. Finally the young vampire sighed “Fine I’ll take it, anything at this point. Just let me know when I start.” Desperate times call for desperate measures. “Do I at least get a nice uniform?” she asked.

Leatherface nodded enthusiastically, he brought out a bag from behind his back and handed it to her. Freddy was now watching with glee from around the corner. He had been planning this for the past week.

“Oh you've got to be kidding me.” she growled from the bathroom and Freddy laughed.

“Whats so funny?” Pennywise asked sipping a hot cocoa with way too many marshmallows

“I helped the big guy pick the new uniform for the waitresses wait till you see it.”

Leech creaked the door open her face bright red. As she stepped out Pennywise spit his drink and nearly choked on a marshmallow. She was in a tied flannel top and daisy dukes. “Who told you this was a good idea Leatherface?” the giant happily pointed at Freddy’s hiding spot who was on the floor cackling now. Chucky walked by and his jaw nearly fell on the floor before running to get Tiff. Pennywise was 100% broken. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. “Can I at least wear an actual shirt instead?”

Leatherface looked sad she didn't like the uniform. “Oh no” she thought “He's proud of it.”

“Hey hey big guy! I didn't mean it the uniforms great don't be sad see I’m going to put it away for tomorrow ok!”

Pennywise left the room quickly unable to remain there for much longer without….feeeeeeling.

Chucky walked over to him giving his leg a sharp jab with his elbow.

“What do you want doll.” he snarled

“You're a mess Jingles. Why don't you do something about it?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Your lame school boy crush on the baby bloodsucker.”

“I dont-“

“Don't even man you were practically having a heart attack back there, plus you were staring at her the entire movie night. Tiff thinks its cute.”

“Does everyone know now?”

“Pretty much.”

The clown fell on the floor against the fridge. “Then I need your…………help.” The last word was a struggle for him.

———-

Leech marched into the old house carrying the an entire butcher shop in grocery bags. Drops of cold animal blood dripped down from her purchases and Church had come out of hiding to follow her to the kitchen where she began to pack the fridge and freezer full of raw meat.

“Ok clown your girl’s home go talk to her.” Chucky whispered from behind Pennywise who was hiding on the stairway to the basement.

“Compliment her ears she's been very self conscious about them lately” Dracula suggested to him.

As Pennywise attempted to step forward he paused when he saw the young vampire. She looked to be in a trance as she put meat away finally stopping at a package of bratwursts and taking a deep inhale of the bloody sausage. She let out a small whimper and as a drop of drool fell from her lips the clown felt his breath hitch. “What are you waiting fo- woah!!!” Chucky paused when he saw that Leech has taken one of the sausages out of the package and was brining it to her hungry open mouth. Her tongue had rolled out and she swallowed the meat whole like a snake. “Holy fuck Jingles thats uh… thats some girl you got there…” Chucky’s jaw dropped. Pennywise was completely frozen unable to speak. “Well ah.. nosferatu fledglings do have a…ahem insatiable appetite” Dracula dabbed his brow.

“We’re uh….we’re gonna go….good luck Jingles…” Chucky and Drac both bolted out of the room as Leech finished the tray of sausages completely unaware and going into a slight frenzy.

She ripped open a roast now and began violently tearing the meat with her dull human teeth. She started sucking the blood through the flesh while making obscene gasping sounds as she fed. Drool poured out of Pennywise’s mouth in record amounts as he watched the vampire. She tore off her beanie revealing her bald head and large bat like ears which began to fold straight up against the side of her head. Leech’s eyes flashed forward as she finished Penny marveled at how they looked like little reflections of the full moon against her dark eye circles she was becoming a truly terrifying monster. The clown had never seen something so beautiful or smelled something so sweet. The nosferatu came down from her high panting and gasping looking at the animal blood on her hands and the drool on the floor. “What the hell just happened?” she said to herself. She heard a soft jingle and her face lit up, she quickly put on her beanie to hide her baldness and wiped her face. “Penny?!” she said asked excitedly a small blush creeped onto her cheeks. Her face fell when no one answered. “Must have been my imagination…” she mumbled starting to clean up her mess.

Pennywise had retreated to his lair leaning back in his nest panting with need. He looked down at the tall tent in his pantaloons and shut his eyes. This was bad. He never really felt feelings like desire or lust, not like this. There were maybe a handful of occasions where he was in heat and took a lover for the night disguised as a human but he saw them as more tools than mates. Pennywise couldn't even remember some of their names, he was pretty sure he ate a few after he was done with them too. But this oh this, this was completely different. This new feeling was not something he could just relieve and get on with his hunting. This was a burning need for someone he saw as an equal, someone like him. A fellow predator, a potential mate. He didn't want anyone else he wanted her. And he hated it.

As promised the next chapter will get STEAMY. So stay tuned for that. 

#pennywise #pennywise the dancing clown #pennywise the clown #pennywise fanfiction #pennywise x oc #pennywise x reader #it (2017) #it fanfiction #monster roommate au

[initiala]

Heyy! I dont know if your taking prompts right now but i really love your fics and would like to know if you can write a smutty fic of Killian noticing Emma's flowery shirts which ive seen on the show are pretty :)

Thank you!! Gonna try to get this one done quickly. Clothes porn? Clothing kink? Height differences???? Puns????????? Who knows. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

He’s used to her in leather. He likes the leather, he likes that in this simple way they are once more kindred spirits. He likes her sweaters – though he likes her more without, for when he peels the warm cloth from her body she never fails to tuck her body against his, claiming, “It’s fucking cold, Killian.”

He loves her trousers, the nigh-obscene way they cling to her legs and her shapely hips, and the boots that reach for her knees and give her enough height so that he doesn’t have to quite bend in two to kiss her.

(Though he loves her, too, in her stocking feet, when she allows herself to feel vulnerable and their bodies fit together perfectly – her head on his shoulder, tucked just under his chin.)

But there’s been a change recently, and one he’s not entirely opposed to.

It’s as if spring has arrived in Emma’s wardrobe. He knew that the rest of her and Henry’s things had been shipped up from New York and that the limited space in her parents’ loft had prevented much of her things to be unpacked. Her limited wardrobe had been acceptable, as the chilly days in Storybrooke meant layers and sweaters and her coat zipped up to hide the fact that she wore the same shirt two days in a row. But now with the house and all of the space within it that practically begged to be filled, the boxes have slowly been emptied and their closet is full to the brim of all manner of flowery things he’s never seen before.

“That one’s nice,” Killian comments over breakfast, trying not to leer at how he can see right through the flowery material to the dark camisole underneath.

Emma only smiles, then swipes the coffee mug out of Henry’s hand. “You’re fourteen, kid, no coffee until college.”

“Mom.”

“Quit staying up late playing Resident Evil.”

Killian hides his smirk behind his own mug as Henry puts on a full show of teenage angst, bemoaning the unfairness of the world as he gathered his backpack and went out to catch the bus. “Don’t think Granny will sympathize with you either!” Emma calls after him, just as the door slams shut. “God, tell me you were just as dramatic as a teenager,” she mutters.

“Oh, Swan, I was much worse,” Killian says truthfully.

She considers him for a moment, then shakes her head, sitting down and nursing her coffee with a frown line between her brows.

They sit in comfortable silence, his mug sitting empty on the table and hers resting against her chin as she allows the caffeine to work its magic on her body. Killian is content to let his eyes rove about her body. The sheer material drapes about her in the most delightful way, leaving her various freckles visible. He loves her freckles, loves mapping them with his lips and tongue and weaving stories for her about the constellations under her skin.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, however briefly, and Emma spots it.

“I have to work.”

He smirks, eyebrow quirking up.

“Hook.”

He leans back a little in the chair, resettling himself in a more provocative slouch, his head tilted just so.

Emma purses her lips and he can see the war behind her eyes – the urge to give in to the desire surely building in her veins against the logical reasoning of adulthood responsibilities. Killian gets to his feet then, walking around to stand behind her. His hand rests on the back of her chair as he leans down and presses a kiss just under her ear, his nose brushing against her soft skin and making her shiver. “These shirts of yours, the new ones, they’re enough to drive a man to madness,” he murmurs, enjoying how she shivers again from his breath tickling her ear.

“Yeah? Well,” she mutters, unable or unwilling to finish whatever thought is on her mind; he can see the indent of her smile on her cheek.

“You look lovely as a field of flowers,” he says, humming slightly as he skims forward, his rough, stubbled cheek against hers.

She actually giggles then, twisting to look him in the eye. “You sound like a bee in my ear, humming like that. Are you looking to pollinate something?”

There’s a wicked gleam in her eye, the kind that only appears when one has committed the worst sort of sin and enjoyed every moment of it. “That was awful,” Killian tells her, pulling back.

Emma just continues to laugh, breaking it only for a moment to shriek in surprise as he scoops her up, cradling her to his chest as he carries her into the living room. He doesn’t quite drop her onto the couch, but she does bounce from the impact and her laughter quiets into giggles as he crawls on top of her.

Her laughter tastes like starlight, filling him with a glowing happiness as he kisses and nuzzles her. She wriggles under him and he shifts his weight so as not to crush her as he nips the skin at her collarbone. He mouths at the peaks of her breasts over her layers of clothes, savoring her whimpers and smirking at her weak admonishment: “Don’t leave wet marks.”

“Too late,” he tells her, before sucking at her nipples through the cloth once more.

He slides further down, lifting her shirts slightly to nibble and suck on the skin of her stomach and enjoying the way her sensitive skin jumps under his touch. He deftly undoes the button and pulls down first the zipper, then both her trousers and underthings. “Not all the way,” Emma says, even as her hips cant up towards him, seeking friction.

“I know, love, I know.”

They’ve had enough of these quick morning trysts that he’s well-versed in what to do. He leaves her sock on as he frees one leg, tickling the sole of her foot through the thin cotton before sliding his hand up her leg. His fingers find her core warm and wet, easily slipping through her folds and teasing her entrance. His thumb brushes against her clit and she rolls her hips up again. “Stop teasing me,” she tells him, a hint of a whine in her voice.

Killian brings his fingers to his mouth, humming as he tastes her sweetness. “Such sweet nectar, Swan.”

“Oh God.”

He grins. “Oh yes, darling, you started it with the pollination comment.”

“This is going to be a whole thing, isn’t it?”

He loosens his belt, sighing as he undoes his own trousers and frees his erection. He slides the material down enough on his hips so that the zipper doesn’t catch the sensitive skin. “Well, I’ll try not to sting you much,” Killian says as she wraps her legs around his waist and he positions himself at her entrance.

“Remind me – oh God, you feel good – to tell you about – fuck – the birds and the bees sometime,” Emma says, moaning as he fills her to the hilt.

He hardly gives her time to adjust, setting a quick pace. She claws at his back, her nails digging in through his thin shirt. Killian rests his forehead between her breasts, gritting his teeth as he rides her harder. His impending orgasm tingles at the base of his spine, his balls tightening preemptively, but he refuses to come before she does.

He feels her legs jerk first, tightening then trembling as her sex ripples around his cock and she cries out his name with a choke gasp. Only when he feels her start to relax does he allow his own orgasm to wash over him, letting pleasure soothe his aches and ease the tension in his spine.

Emma allows them both a moment to catch their breath before patting his shoulder. “Work,” she says, though there’s regret in her voice.

“But you said you’d tell me about the birds and the bees,” he mumbles, not moving his head from the soft cushion of her breasts.

She laughs and oh how he loves hearing her laugh when his ear is pressed to her chest, feeling her shake under him. “Later,” she promises. “After Henry goes to bed. He probably won’t want to hear it again.”

“Again?”

“Son of an unwed teenage mother? You bet we’ve had the talk.”

Killian begins to put the pieces of this vague concept together as he gets to his feet and helps her sit up. They right their clothes and Emma mutters something about going to clean up before leaving when he says, “I think the only thing you’ll have to explain is why in particular this realm has chosen those two unrelated creatures to represent the coupling of a man and his woman.”

Emma arches her eyebrow at him, though he sees she’s fighting off another laugh. “I’ll ignore the territorial crap or else we’ll be here arguing all day. But you’re on notice, buddy.”

He stops her as she heads towards the bathroom, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Love you too, Swan.”

“You just love my shirts,” she retorts.

Aye, he muses as he watches her trot up the stairs. That I do.

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs smut #ouat ff #amanda writes #deathbycaptainswan #what was supposed to be quick turned into two hours #whoopsie daisy #because i keep getting distracted by being angry #this actually was an all day affair #AN ALL DAY AFFAIR YESTERDAY #track my progress through the tags

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88 - Part 1

kim taehyung x reader (mentions of jimin) - artist au ft. artist!taehyung

teaser, part 1, part 2, part 3

warnings: mentions of emotional abuse, manipulation, mentions of drugs, smoking, physical fights, mentions of anxiety

themes: angst, fluff

words: 2,256

A/N: here’s the first part of this little series! i think its going to end up being longer than expected, cause i have so much planned and it doesn’t seem like it’ll fit into three of four parts, the next few parts will be longer though, but we’ll soon see. i hope you enjoy reading!

Jimin had a knock on effect. Once one person was hurt by him, everyone was; he was out of control. You couldn’t blame him though, you could only blame yourself. That’s what he told you anyway. So you took it upon yourself to forgive everyone that he hurt, and that included Kim Taehyung.

The gallery was surprisingly empty for a saturday morning. You were wrapped in your burgundy trench coat, a soft white woolen scarf adorning your neck with black skinny jeans hugging your legs and simple black heels placed on your feet. Your eyes hastily scanned each art piece, looking for the story that each told; for an explanation behind the artists feelings and why they chose to output their feelings into a piece completely unique to them, one that shows their identity without even realising it.

As you walked through a small collection of what could be considered more modern paintings hung along the walls, you came across one certain painting. It grabbed your attention from across the small room. as you approached you could see why. The detail was lacking, but where it lacked detail, it made up for with character. you eyes dragged along each inch of the piece, your mouth slightly open, awe taking over the longer you looked at it. The painting showed a man. he looked young, no older than twenty-five. His torso and arms were on display, and on them were tattoos. Patterns and colour wrapped around his arms, his shoulders and his chest, stopping just before they crawled up his neck that little bit too far, and continuing down to his wrists, stopping where the cuff of a sleeve would naturally end. The colours captivated you. Blues and reds, greens and purples, blacks and whites, all winding around his skin in the most perfect manner. Your eyes followed the twisting of the ink up to his neck before adorning your eyes on his face. His perfect face, you should say. His eyes were wide and feline-like. They held a playful glint that most people lacked, they showed his youth, they represented what was behind all the ink on his body. They held his character. His lips were full but thin, not too thin though, the type of thin that you cant help but admire and wonder what they look like when he smiles. Thick and full, dark eyebrows rested above his eyes, tying in with the harsh lines of the art on his body, and following down to the bridge of his nose which sat out quite far, but suited him perfectly. His straight blonde hair fell just above the dark brows that rested on his perfect facial structure and made his honey coloured skin glow with youthfulness. He was breathtaking, but he couldn’t help but remind you of someone you used to know. You spent what felt like hours admiring the amazing work of art in front of you, but as you turned to walk away, you noticed one small thing. The wrist of the man, which like all of him, was golden and glowing, gave place to a small tattoo, nearly unnoticeable if you’re not looking for it. It was a small ‘88’. The realisation struck you suddenly, Your breath feeling as if it was sucked out of your lungs as you stood there in shock. Before allowing yourself to fall further into the trap that you had realised the painting was, you turned swiftly on your heel and walked away, as far from the piece or art as you could, and out of the gallery.

The fresh air was like a blessing as it blew the hair that framed your face behind your ears. You could breathe again. 88. The number replayed itself in your mind as you tried to find a possible reason for it being on the mans wrist, other than the one you were thinking of. Maybe if was just a coincidence? Maybe the artist just had a love for the number 88? There could be so many reasons for it, but you just couldn’t shake the one reason from your head, the one that made the most sense. The one that had ruined you not so long ago.

Rather then letting the discovery take over your mind, you decided to head home. Your heels clicked loudly against the pavement as you made your way to the road where you could hail a taxi. After a few attempts, you finally managed to get one to stop for you. The handle of the door on the passenger side of the car was cold against your fingers as you pulled it open and slid along the leather seats till you were comfortably in place with your seat-belt buckled.

“Where to?” the driver asked, he was an older looking man with a gruff voice. You told him your address and he drove away from the side of the road where he’d pulled over for you to get in. Just as you started to settle, you were reminded of the events that happened only minutes ago in the gallery and you spoke up.

“Actually,” you took in a long breath as you considered whether or not to say what you wanted to, “could you turn at this side road coming up here and take the longer way to my house?” The driver agreed to your request. You couldn’t help but wonder whether he was trying to figure out why you’d ask such a thing.

He took the next turn left, as you’d asked him to, and followed to road. The small side street seemed to go on for miles before you were finally turning again, onto a main road this time. The car seemed to slow down as you drove along the road. You weren’t sure whether it was just your imagination or whether the driver had actually started to drive a what seemed like a much slower pace. The bumps in the road started to feel more prominent, and the atmosphere felt as if it was getting darker by the second as you approached the one place you wanted to see. And there it was.

The window which seemed to be newly boarded up with planks of wood, had small shards of glass sprinkled along the pavement underneath it. The familiar sign, that rested above the now covered panes of glass, which you discovered were smashed, explaining scattered glass, looked more faded than usual; the black background that held the white lettering that read “88 Tattoos”, was dulling to a dark grey colour and looked as if it was merging with the writing. The door, however, was the only thing that hadn’t changed. Hand-painted designs adorned it, weaving around the curves in the polished wood the same way they did on the mans arms in the painting in the gallery. You knew then that it was no coincidence. It was jimin.

“Do you know why this place is all boarded up?” you asked, your finger shakily pointing in the direction of the abandoned tattoo shop, “It was still open a few months ago, what changed to suddenly?”

“Did you not hear? The owner lost the place. He was too busy spending all his money on drugs to pay to keep the place up and running.” his voice lightened a bit, almost as if he was shocked that you hadn’t heard about what had happened. Your head started to spin, a sickly feeling in the pit of your stomach being to take over as you fully processed what he said. Drugs? The owner? Jimin? It couldn’t be. You knew he had a problem with drugs when you dated him, it was the reason you broke up with him. But the last thing he said before you walked out was that he’d stop taking them and get you back. He said he would find you when he was in the right state of mind. Clearly it was another one of his lies, as you expected. It was probably the drugs talking. “He’s in rehab now though. From what I’ve heard he’s doing better than ever. Poor guy blamed some girl for it all, i wonder what she did to cause so much damage.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you tried to speak, but all that escaped was a small “Oh, at least he’s getting better.” You weren’t sure what else to say after that, so you kept quiet, admiring the sky and the clouds that lined it while the sun shone into the car, illuminating the small space and making the leather shine like it was new. It was the perfect distraction. The clouds spotted against the blue sky like balls of the softest cotton. It was so distracting that the ten minute drive to your home seemed to last a matter of seconds. You thanked the driver, for the ride and for explaining what had happened to the tattoo shop before paying him and stepping out of the car to be greeted with the path that lead to the front entrance of your small apartment complex, which you had shared with jimin in the past. You pushed the entrance open while reaching for your keys that were buried deep in your pocket. You pulled them out and listened to the faint jingling sound they made that confirmed that they were the right keys before heading towards the stairs which took you to your apartment. 

Once you’d gotten into your small home and changed from your outfit into something more comfortable, you walked to your bedroom and retrieved your laptop before walking back out to the open plan living area, that was also your kitchen. Settling on the grey three person sofa. you opened your laptop as soon as you’d gotten comfy and began to do some research. 

“88 Tattoos Owner Sent to Rehab?” “ Park Jimin Caught Red-Handed Spending Rent Money on Drugs” “The End of the Famous 88 Tattoos?”

You scanned over the title of each link displayed on your laptop screen before clicking on the first one on the what seemed like endless list.

“Famous Tattoo Shop Owner, Park Jimin, has been sent to rehab. The twenty-four year old was caught recently spending money that was originally intended to go towards his business on a number of different drugs.” You read the date the article was published. April 9th. Eight months ago, and two months after you’d broken up with him. “When asked to give a statement by press, he simply stated that ‘love isn’t real’ and refused to say anymore.” 

Tears began to sting at your eyes. He always said that to you when you’d refused to do what he asked.

“Y/N, if your love for me was real, if love was real, you’d do this for me.” 

His words repeated like a mantra in your head, reminding you of the two year relationship which was built on manipulation. Manipulation you put up with because you were scared to lose him. After all, he did remind you daily that you’d be no where without him, and you’d started to believe him. How could you not be scared to lose him?

You left the first article and and proceeded to click on the next, your hands slightly shaking as you started to scroll to reach the main body of the writing, the part that was filled with the most information. 

“Celebrity tattoo artist, Park Jimin, has been caught spending everything last penny on drugs. The twenty-four year old is rumoured to have spiraled out of control after a breakup with an ex. It has been said that he sold everything he owned, par a few pieces of his beloved art work, to pay for the unhealthy habit.” the tears that had threatened to spill as you read the last article were now flowing freely down your pink tinged cheeks as you continued to read. You couldn’t bare to read anymore. You exited the article, not bothering to even consider reading the next one, and closed your laptop before setting it on the floor and curling up into a ball on your couch. It had nearly been a year since you broke up with him, since you last seen him, yet his controlling and venom filled words still got to your head, they still made you feel like everything was your fault. You knew it wasn’t, but you could hear his voice nagging at you, reminding you that you caused this. But you didn’t, you reminded yourself.

Jimin was like a wrecking ball, he never knew when to stop, he always had to be told when something was too much and made to stop or he’d ruin everything in his path, and you soon realised that’s what had happened in this situation as you let your curiosity get the better of you and continued read more articles about him. One that had caught your attention was titled, ‘Lost Dreams due to Unwanted Realities”. It was an article that had been written about one of Jimin’s close friends at the time of his downward spiral, Kim Taehyung, the man in the painting. He was an upcoming artist that had lost all traces of his dreams due to Jimin’s reckless nature. The article had you wondering who else had been hurt by Jimin and his unpredictably, and in that moment, whether it really was your fault or not, you decided that you would apologise to everyone you possibly could that was hurt by your ex. You felt partly responsible and the only way to change that and put your mind at ease was to find the people who were in Jimin’s path when everything went wrong, and make sure they know that you’re sorry; and you were going to start with Kim Taehyung. 

#bts #bts au #bts fanfic #bts fan fiction #bts scenarios #bts v #v #taehyung #bts taehyung #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #jimin #park jimin #kim taehyung #rm #bts rm #bts namjoon #namjoon #yoongi #bts yoongi #suga #bts suga #jungkook #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #min yoongi #kim namjoon #jin