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megalony · 8 months ago

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Matters Of The Heart

This is an Evan Buckley imagine I've been trying to write for a while now. I hope you will all like it, let me know what you think.

I'm planning follow up parts for this imagine.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) and Evan keep their relationship private, but they're happy. But when (Y/n) falls pregnant, she doesn't know what to do; she's suffered miscarriages before and worries this will end up the same way.

Enjoy.

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Evan let himself slump down until his weight was resting on his knees and his forearms that were dented into the mattress either side of (Y/n)'s shoulders. The uneven distribution made him feel like he was at the gym trying to do the plank position, but he couldn't drop his weight down when (Y/n) was laid beneath him. He would crush her.

He could feel the sweat trickling down the back of his neck towards his shoulder blades and he knew his skin was starting to turn blotched red and flushed. The heat was radiating off him as his chest heaved up and down, pressing deeply into (Y/n)'s chest every time he inhaled.

A dazed smile spread across (Y/n)'s lips while she moved her hand higher up the back of his neck and slowly tangled her fingers in the short curls at the back of his head. She could feel his head burying into the side of her neck causing his hair to tickle her cheek and make her squirm beneath him.

He was kissing the hickeys he had just bitten deeply up and down her neck a few minutes ago.

His hips were crushing down on hers, their groins mashed together while (Y/n) tensed her thighs to squeeze Evan's legs that were resting between hers. His broad frame squished between her legs and caused her hips to bend outwards to accomodate him.

"You're gonna make me late, I should have been up ten minutes ago," (Y/n) whispered and her smile turned into a grin when Evan laughed into her neck. She loved the sound of his laugh. She didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay right here with Evan laid on top of her, pinning her down for the whole day. Preventing her from leaving with his intoxicating kisses that he was now peppering along her jaw.

If it was her choice, they would stay here in bed all day with no interruptions to get in the way.

But they both knew (Y/n) didn't want to be late for work, she was never late to the station. And she didn't want anyone wondering or asking why she was late. No one at the station knew about her and Evan.

"Hmm, I want you to stay here with me." Evan kissed along her jaw until he was hovering over her enough to reach up and peck her lips, gently at first. Then again and again until he was pushing her down into the pillow, devouring her lips like they were the air he needed to breathe.

"I have to get up," (Y/n) groaned against his lips when he rutted his hips down into hers and took her lower lip between his teeth. Her hands moved round from his neck to cup his face and her thumbs brushed across his sharp cheekbones. She pressed a quick, simple kiss to his lips before she attempted to push up against him but it didn't work.

Evan tensed his bare chest and leaned down, effortlessly pushing her back down beneath him where he wanted her.

"Can't you spare another ten minutes for me? I'll make it worth your while."

He let his weight lean on his left forearm so his right hand could slither down (Y/n)'s side and grip the underside of her thigh. Surely she could spend another few minutes in bed with him before she had to get ready and head to work. For once, he didn't have to get up and he was wide awake when normally he was sleeping until noon after a long shift.

"I've already given you ten minutes, Buckley, I can't spare any more." Coiling her leg higher, (Y/n) smacked her foot down on his backside and curled her arms tighter around his neck, doing her best to try and push him back so she could sit up.

It worked this time, but not like she hoped. Evan kept a tight hold of her thigh and he leaned up so he could sink back on his heels. He pulled (Y/n) up with him and curved his arm around her lower back, sitting her on his lap.

(Y/n) tilted her head to the side before she leaned closer and attached her lips to his sharp jaw. She sucked and bit down until she could feel him practically shaking against her, growling her name through gritted teeth while his hand slithered up from her thigh to cup her bum.

Evan was breathless and on the verge of stuttering when he felt her kiss and nip down his throat, something she knew made him putty in her hands.

"Let me get to work on time, and I might just come back to see you after my shift. How about that?"

Bargaining was the only thing (Y/n) thought would work to get Evan to let her get up. He had the whole day and tonight off after all and (Y/n) was only doing a day shift, she would be leaving the station tonight. She was more than willing to come by his flat and see him later on tonight if he let her get to work on time this morning.

(Y/n) squeaked when she felt his short nails puncturing into her bum and his other hand moved to cup the back of her neck. He tilted her head up so she could no longer kiss his throat and hovered his lips half an inch away from hers. There was something devilish and daring in his eyes, it made her unsure whether he was going to agree or throw her down on the bed for round three.

"Evan," She whispered against his lips, moving her hand to cup his jaw when he didn't set her down.

His lips barely touched hers before (Y/n) unhooked her legs from his hips and managed to shuffle off his thighs and flop back onto the bed. She leaned up on her hands, a tender, if cheeky smile on her face when she brought her knees up either side of his thighs.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Shivers bolted up and down (Y/n)'s spine and a pleasurable thrill like ecstasy thundered through her blood when Evan's low voice hit her ears. Within seconds, his large hands dug into the bare flesh of her thighs and with a sharp tug, Evan yanked her across the bed. When she fell on her back, he thought she looked like an angel with her hair fanned across the mattress like a golden halo and her smooth, bare skin exposed for him to take in and possess.

"To work." (Y/n) responded against the side of his neck and as quickly as she could, she unhooked her legs from his hands and flung them over the side of the bed.

The moment (Y/n) was up on her feet, she felt like the apartment had tilted at an angle and her body stumbled to the right, following her skewed sense of balance.

Her hand reached out for the bedside table and when her head filled with air, she crashed down to her knees on the carpet which thankfully softened the blow. She almost smiled when her vision started to sway from left to right like she was on a choppy boat in the middle of the sea. But after a few seconds, she felt herself levelling back out and the air dwindled from her head like a balloon slowly being let down.

"Hey, wow, you okay?" Evan hopped off the bed and latched his hand around (Y/n)'s elbow and wormed his arm around her bare waist to cup her hip. He pressed his lips to the back of her head and gently pulled her up to her feet when she nodded.

He watched the way (Y/n) tilted her head back into his chest and grinned up at him.

"Just went dizzy, I'm good." (Y/n) gave his hand a squeeze and pressed a kiss to his shoulder before she looked around the bedroom for her clothes. She could see them scattered around the floor in odd places, her bra here, her shirt over near the stairs. The mess of clothes showed the fun they'd got up to last night.

"You sure?"

"Hm."

"And you'll come back tonight?" His hands found her hips and he turned her around so she was facing him. Her head tilted back to look up at him while his hands wormed around to fan out on her lower back.

"Yeah, I'll come over after shift."

***

(Y/n) slipped her phone in her back pocket and pushed herself off the side of the ambulance she was leaning against. Her teeth sank down in her bottom lip and she smiled in Eddie's direction when he waved her over.

Bobby was cooking; it was time for lunch.

She walked over to him and walked beside him as they headed up the stairs and turned to the left towards the kitchen. She knew he was keeping a slow pace to walk at her speed which wasn't very fast today, but he didn't say anything.

"Do you want a drink?"

"Sure. You okay?"

"I'm fine," She smiled in his direction and headed over to the fridge while Eddie took his seat at the table.

They were short staffed today, Evan was on his day off and Chimney was on annual leave. So were two other probies which meant they were all doubling up on calls and they had barely been in the station all morning.

(Y/n) had stayed on from the night shift to cover today and help the team out. She knew what it was like to work here when the numbers were down.

She tried to take deep breaths to get rid of the fog rolling in behind her eyes. But her breath got caught in her throat when she grabbed a glass from the cabinet and realised her hands were shaking.

Shift patterns, hundreds of call outs and odd schedules messed with all their meal times and their food habits. (Y/n) hadn't eaten anything on shift last night and she had skipped breakfast this morning. She hadn't been feeling well these past two weeks and work wasn't exactly helping. Last night and this morning had been hectic too and had snatched most of (Y/n)'s energy.

She was hungry but the smell and the thought of food made her uneasy and her head was pounding like she was being hit with a hammer.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she poured two glasses of juice and dug her nails into each glass so harshly her fingers began to throb and ache. She couldn't risk dropping the glasses.

It was a relief when she shuffled over to the table and was able to put a glass down in front of herself and Eddie. She let herself flop down into her seat and took a second to tilt her head back and close her eyes, relishing in the way her muscles stopped aching and weighed down when she sat and relaxed.

"Are you alright?"

A shiver bolted down (Y/n)'s spine and her eyes snapped open when she felt Eddie's lean close enough that his chest bumped her shoulder.

Being close to Eddie always felt strange nowadays.

At first, she thought it would be hard to work with someone she used to have a relationship with- if what she and Eddie had could be classed as a relationship. Hook ups after hard shifts, drowning their sorrows together in the nearest bar, trying to rely on each other when things got hard.

It hadn't been a proper relationship, no rules, no boundaries or labels and they didn't exactly go on dates.

(Y/n) thought they had something, until Shannon died. Eddie stepped away from her after that. Neither of them said anything but it was crystal clear, Eddie was spiralling and lost after Shannon died so things between them settled back to a strange, close friendship.

"I'm good." (Y/n) quickly nodded her head despite the pain it caused to bolt down the back of her neck and how her eyes rolled and lost focus from the slight movement.

She managed a smile when Hen held a plate of pasta out to her since she was the one dishing up the food today.

The steam coming from her plate made her nose crinkle and her head started to swim from the heat. She already felt like she was trapped in an oven, she had switched to her thin cotton shirt earlier with no sleeves to try and let her body breathe and cool down.

Two bites of pasta had (Y/n) pressing the back of her hand against her mouth as she willed herself not to throw up at the dinner table. Her head tilted down and she took a few deep breaths, trying to keep her food down as she set down her fork and grabbed her glass instead. Maybe skipping lunch would be a good idea today.

She tried another mouthful before she placed her fork down and switched to down her drink instead.

Her eyes lifted from her plate to look across the table and she locked eyes with Hen. She narrowed her eyes behind her glasses and tilted her head down, silently checking if everything was okay. Hen knew (Y/n) wasn't one to turn down one of Bobby's dishes, especially after being on a long shift and having as many call outs as they did last night and into today.

Hen could see she wasn't paying attention to the conversation floating around the table and frankly, neither was she anymore.

"I'll clean up…" (Y/n) collected all the plates when everyone was finished and made her way over to the sink. She would rather keep herself busy than risk sitting down and fretting she wouldn't have the energy to get back up again.

Her head was splitting like someone was banging a drum so harshly that her head was ripping open at the seams. The thudding of her heartbeat pulsed beneath her skin and pounded through her head so badly that she couldn't even hear anything else anymore. All she could make out were snippets of words threaded together in the wrong order.

At least with doing the washing up, (Y/n) could dunk her hands in the sink and pretend they weren't trembling. And it stopped anyone else from noticing either.

Once she was finished, (Y/n) raked her hands up and down her thighs and tried to hold her head up as she walked around the kitchen island.

Her head snapped to the right when a familiar hand curled around her wrist and stopped her from walking away. She dug her left hand into her back pocket and stared up at Eddie while her teeth punctured down into her bottom lip.

He was leaning back against the dining table that was now empty, one leg crossed over the other and his right arm around his chest. She could feel his fingers feathering along her wrist and his thumb traced circles along the back of her hand.

"You sure you're alright? You can tell me, you know." His words made her lips soften and she dragged her eyes up to meet his gaze. She didn't like to see him worry about her. She didn't like any of the team worrying about her.

"I'm just tired, don't worry 'bout me."

"I can't help it." His response surprised her. Was that something a friend said to another friend? Was that just a gesture of how close they were, or was it an indication of something more? Something they used to have?

He couldn't be implying anything by that. Not now. Not anymore.

It had been a hard, dampening experience to shrink back to friends with Eddie after having a glimpse of something more with him. Whatever they had was behind them and (Y/n) was looking ahead now.

At least what she had with Evan was different. He wanted to be with her, and not just to drown his sorrows or for her to warm his bed. She enjoyed spending time with Evan, she loved being around him and his bubbly nature. The only reason they hadn't told anyone was because they worked together and (Y/n) didn't want them to say anything if they knew she had gone out with Eddie and was now dating Evan.

"I'm fine," She reitterated quietly and gave Eddie's arm a squeeze before she walked past him and headed over to the stairs.

Her boots clamoured against the metal steps as she made her way down and trailed across towards the locker room, dragging her feet behind her. Maybe she needed to ask Bobby if she could leave soon. This was an extra shift after all, and if she was feeling this run down and sluggish, she wasn't going to be much help to the team this afternoon.

Her thoughts seemed to be spoken outloud when Bobby walked out of his office and moved in (Y/n)'s direction.

"Two extras are coming on the B shift, you can head home now if you like. Thanks for stepping in today."

"Oh, okay, thanks Cap."

A rest would do her some good, she could recover for the next two days and be back ready for her twenty-four hour block shift. (Y/n) had a gut feeling that doing a shift that long was going to kill her off, but she had agreed to it now and she couldn't go back on her word or let the team down.

When she got to her locker, (Y/n) leaned forward and slumped her head against the next door while she rummaged around and stuffed her phone and keys back into her bag. She slung her bag on her shoulder and turned round, slumping her shoulders back against her locker when she watched Hen walk into the room.

"You heading home?" Hen moved towards her own locker on the far right and rummaged around for a towel and a fresh set of work clothes.

"Yeah, I'm done for the week."

"Nice, got any plans? We still need to go out and get that drink, you know." The last time the pair had arranged to meet up for drinks, both of them got called into the station at last minute. And they had yet to rearrange and go out on a drinks night together.

"I'm free this Saturday, if you-" (Y/n) cut herself off, gasping as she caught her ankle on the corner of the bench.

Her bag flew off her shoulder and her hands planted down on the polished floor with a thud that made her elbows jerk. Her knees took most of her weight when she crashed into the floor and she bit down a cry at the shock it sent through her kneecaps.

"Oh God," Hen mumbled, trying not to laugh as she dropped her towel on the bench and reached out for (Y/n)'s arms. "You know you're…"

Tilting her head up, (Y/n) looked back at Hen to see why she had suddenly stopped talking. She reached her hand out on the bench to prop herself up and take a steady breath, but when (Y/n) looked down in front of her to see what Hen was staring at, her blood ran cold.

Reaching forward, she scraped her hands along the floor and tossed everything back into her bag that had spilled out.

Including the unused pregnancy test.

Her eyes stayed focused on her hands as she shakily stood up and moved to sit down on the bench. Walking out the station and leaving this conversation behind wasn't going to be an option. Hen would either follow her out or ring her until she answered and explained.

She scrunched her trousers up between her fingers that were ice cold but somehow her palms were beginning to sweat. Her knees began to jitter up and down and she couldn't bring herself to look to the left when she felt Hen take a seat next to her on the bench.

"Are you okay?" Her question was careful, considerate, and laced with understanding and a deeper meaning than a simple passing phrase.

"It's not a big deal, besides I haven't taken it yet." (Y/n) began to tap her feet against the floor, but when she looked over at Hen, she felt her stomach do an awful twist. She didn't like the stern look she found in Hen's eyes or the way she rolled her lips together and tilted her chin down in that manner that made (Y/n) feel like she was trying to tell a lie to her parents.

"No big deal? This is huge (Y/n), you can be honest with me."

"No it's not. I highly doubt I am I just… I wanna make sure. And if by some strange twist it comes back positive, in a few weeks this will all be a dream. I can't have kids, Hen."

A twinge pulled at (Y/n)'s heart as if it had suddenly impaled itself on her ribs in defiance to her words.

"You don't know that-"

"Yes I do, or have you forgotten what happened last time? Pretend you didn't see anything, please? We both know how this will end and I'm fine, I swear I'm good and if I wasn't I'd talk to you about it. I just wanna do the test and move on."

She hated the way Hen rubbed her temple as if this conversation was giving her a horrid headache. It was doing much worse to (Y/n), she didn't want to talk about this to anyone, not even with Hen who she thought of as her closest friend.

(Y/n) couldn't have kids. Her body worked against her on just about everything; (Y/n) was always catching colds and getting sick. If she got a bruise it would last weeks, if she fell over she sprained something and got aching muscles for weeks. And when she got pregnant, her body miscarried every time.

And she had come to terms with it. (Y/n) was past the point of caring; she threw herself into her work and did her job to the best of her ability. She worked with friends who had become her family, they were her life and (Y/n) was okay with the knowledge that she wasn't going to have kids to rely on her. She wasn't at risk of leaving people behind if something happened to her on the job, she had no dependants.

(Y/n) knew that if the test was negative, she would sigh in relief and think of this as some strange dream. And if it was positive, she would just wait for her body to do the inevitable. She had been pregnant three times before and never got past fifteen weeks. (Y/n) knew the drill, she knew what her body would do and how it would work against her and she was prepared.

"Please don't do this alone, let me be with you when you take the test. If it's positive I'll go to the doctor with you."

The last thing Hen wanted was for (Y/n) to go through this on her own. Whether the result was yes or no, it was still nerve-wrecking and Hen would rather sit with (Y/n) and be by her side than have her doing this alone.

"No, I'm grateful, truly I am but I can do this by myself."

"Have you told Eddie?"

Panic struck a cord right through (Y/n)'s heart and twinged all the way down to her stomach.

Her arms bound around her chest and she looked down at her boots for a moment, trying to think up a response. No one knew about her and Evan. She didn't want anyone to look at her differently. Not many people at the station knew she had had a 'thing' with Eddie, whatever their relationship could be classed as.

But Hen was the only person (Y/n) talked to about it because they were close, and Hen had been with (Y/n) when she had her last miscarriage. She promised not to tell Eddie or anyone else about it and that was the way (Y/n) wanted it to stay.

And whether or not she was pregnant, it was nothing to do with Eddie. (Y/n) didn't want him to know, and she certainly didn't want Evan to find out either. What she had Evan had together was good, it was new and fresh and different and (Y/n) was having a hard enough time as it was trying to be with Evan and not tell herself that she needed to break up with him for his sake.

He was the type of person who would be an amazing father and (Y/n) knew in the future Evan would want kids. He couldn't be with (Y/n) if that was what he wanted. Telling him now would save them both a lot of heartbreak, but she wanted to be selfish and be with Evan and wait to see how things turned out.

"No, and you cannot tell him or anyone else. Hen I mean it, don't-"

"I wouldn't do that." Her solemn response calmed down one of (Y/n)'s many nerves and she nodded, trying to take a deep breath to calm herself down. "Just promise me you'll come to me if you need anything, okay?"

"I promise."

With her bag on her shoulder and the test burning a hole right through to her heart, (Y/n) walked out the station on trembling legs. That result needed to be a negative; it had to be.

***

(Y/n) curled her left arm around the rim of the toilet and slumped her cheek onto her arm, letting her tears soak down her face and onto her burning skin. She tried to close her eyes to see if it would make her feel any better, but she couldn't shut off her mind or relax.

Her right hand dragged across the floor and her numb fingers hooked around the handle of her bag. She shuffled the bag closer until it bumped into her bare knees and she found the pack of tictacs she had in there. She popped a few in her mouth to try and make herself feel better. (Y/n) had only suffered morning sickness in one of her very short pregnancies, and it was something she didn't want to experience right now. Not at four o'clock in the morning when she and Evan had to be up at seven for work.

She dumped the apck of tictacs back in her bag but a jolt surged up her arm when her fingers brushed across the test she took this morning. She had put it off long enough and this morning she took the plunge and took the test. She wished she hadn't.

Hen was at work and (Y/n) didn't want to bother her while she was on shift and risk panicking her.

Her eyes flickered over the plus sign in the little square box.

What was she going to do? What if she lost this baby while she was on shift, in front of everyone- in front of Evan? What if it happened when she was out or home with Evan? Or if she was alone and it went wrong and she couldn't call for help?

Couldn't this just go quickly and smoothly like the first one? A little blood, some pain and minor discomfort for a few days, then back to normal as if nothing had happened.

Tears traced down the bridge of her nose and fell harder when she thought about the last time. With Eddie. A low moan choked at the back of her throat and she turned her head, smothering her face in her arm as she dropped the test back in her bag and curled tighter around the toilet basin.

It had been pure luck that Hen was with (Y/n) when it happened last time. They had been on their way home from shift together, about to go for some lunch when (Y/n) collapsed with a fever and horrible stomach cramps. Hen drove her to hospital and stayed with her while she got assessed, diagnosed with an ectopic pregnancy and subsequently went for surgery.

An ectopic pregnancy happened when the egg started to grow outside the womb, and in (Y/n)'s case it grew in one of her fallopian tubes and ruptured. She had a lot of internal bleeding, but the doctor told her she was lucky she didn't need a hysterectomy. Only the split tube was removed and she could 'still conceive naturally' in the future.

She wished they removed both tubes. It would save (Y/n) all the pain she was going to have soon enough.

She wanted kids, but her body didn't agree. She wanted to get past fourteen weeks and have a healthy baby instead of evicting them all and feeling like a failure.

Hen had agreed not to tell Eddie because it was (Y/n)'s choice and she didn't want to worry him or anyone at the station. Bobby only knew (Y/n) had gone for an emergency operation, he was under the impression it was for a general women's problem, which it sort of was. (Y/n) had two weeks off, spun Eddie the same lie as Bobby and pretended everything was fine.

She couldn't do that again. Not with Evan.

"Baby, you okay?" Evan tapped his knuckles tiredly on the bathroom door and gingerly poked his head round.

He wondered what (Y/n) was up to, she had been out of bed for a while and Evan was starting to get lonely. But when he leaned against the door and looked down, his heart softened and his smile faded as he sighed.

"Okay, let's take a look at you." The tiredness Evan felt washed away immediately and he crouched down in front of (Y/n). He watched the way she limply lifted her head to look up at him and she tried to smile but couldn't quite manage it.

He cupped her face in his hands and pressed his fingers against her neck to check her pulse. His heart fluttered when (Y/n) managed a lopsided grin when he pressed the back of his hand against her temple. She was burning up, and he could see that she'd been sick.

She hadn't been unwell when she came over to his place this afternoon after he came off shift. They agreed to have dinner together tonight and (Y/n) was staying the night so Evan could drive them both to work for their shifts tomorrow. But he wasn't taking her if she was still throwing up in the morning, he would tell her to stay here at his place and rest.

"You're burning up, are you in pain sweetheart?"

(Y/n) pulled herself up off the toilet and looped her arms around Evan's neck, burrowing her face into his neck.

She felt him hum and smile as he tucked his face into the crook of her neck and wrapped his arms around her waist. If she wasn't just sick, Evan would have made a comment about her wearing his clothes. He hadn't seen her in his clothes before now but it was something he could easily get used to.

All she was wearing was her underwear and one of Evan's grey shirts that scarcely covered her bum and hung high over the top of her thighs.

"I feel better now." (Y/n) sucked in a deep breath when Evan moved his hands to cup the back of her thighs as he began to stand. He effortlessly lifted her up with him and hooked her legs around his torso so he could carry her back to bed.

"Hm, well I don't think you're going to work tomorrow."

"I'll be fine," (Y/n) whispered into his neck while she leaned her cheek on his shoulder. She didn't hide the fact she was staring up at him and when Evan looked down at her with a cocky grin, her smile softened even more.

She would be fine to go to work in a few hours, this was only morning sickness and it wouldn't last long. (Y/n) knew it wouldn't. But she couldn't tell Evan why she was ill, not without opening up a very bad conversation that she didn't want nor need right now.

"I'll be the judge of that, sweetheart. Come on, back to bed." Evan wasn't taking her word for it when she was burning up and had just been sick. He would see if she could sleep it off and check her over in the morning. There was no way he was letting (Y/n) go to work tomorrow if she wasn't well. He knew (Y/n) well enough to know she would try and work and overdo things when she wasn't well.

"Whatever you say, Buckley."

She pressed hollow, open-mouthed kisses along Evan's neck as he carried her up the stairs towards his bed.

God, what was she going to do?

#evan buckley #911 imagine #imagine #pregnant! reader #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader #buck x reader #buck imagine #eddie diaz #bobby nash

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velarisdusk · 3 months ago

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Burning Desire

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Series Masterlist Part 4 <- ✦.⁺.✦.⁺.✦ -> Part 6 - Embers to Ice

word count: 17k (AAAAA?) content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, BDSM, power dynamics, bondage, gags, sensory deprivation, pain play, spanking, paddling, flogging, begging, degradation, praise | infidelity, emotional infidelity, explicit language, alcohol, drinking, smoking (cigarettes, marijuana), bitches are fake as fuck, bad rebound choices, i.e. casually fucking someone who you KNOW has had an actual crush on you for years and not caring, the Vanserra family is a loving one in this he deserves happiness ] summary: In a depression following being caught cheating, a troubling phone call brings a harsh revelation. Distraught and in need of comfort, you turn to Eris, who's been trying to reach out since that night. He provides the emotional and physical escape you need. author's note: oh. my. god. i've been working on this for what feels like a decade i feel like years have been taken off of my life. school has been killer (negative), writing this was killer (positive), and i hope you enjoy >:)

It’s been two weeks.

Two weeks of rotting in bed, drowning in self-pity, and starting your days with cigarettes and bottles of rum. Over a week ago, you threw your phone into the drawer of your nightstand, barely resisting the urge to post a pity-filled story for your close friends. Before you essentially vanished, you noticed texts from Feyre and Mor. That was nothing out of the ordinary, but you didn't read them, dreading their content. Were they upset? Angry? What did they think of you? Were the messages even about the situation? You couldn't say if they knew or not.

You also received messages from Az, Eris, and Tarquin. Their concern surprised you, figuring that bro code would have outranked you on the list of priorities. But then, were they even still talking? If you were Cassian, you’d probably cut off all communication.

It was a complicated situation. They all worked together and had for years. They couldn’t just walk away; they were bound by contracts. You wondered how practice was faring if it was even happening. By now, they must have realized that Cassian wasn’t speaking to you. Whether they kept things private or shared the news with Feyre, Mor, or anyone else, you had no idea. You hoped they had the sense not to all come downstairs at once after your departure with Cassian. But even if they were careful, it must have been noticeable when they started reappearing suddenly.

Two weeks of these thoughts hurtling through your mind.

You haven’t told your mother why you showed up disheveled at her door in the night. How could you? You couldn’t bear to face her after admitting what you’ve done.

But as the hours stretch endlessly, a surge of loneliness (only the latest of many) finally drives you to your phone. You respond to the texts from Azriel and Tarquin, reassuring them that you’re as fine as you can be. When you open the text thread with Eris, you’re caught off guard.

Hey, just checking in. How are you holding up?

If you need someone to talk to I’m around. Seriously.

Look, I get that it might seem weird coming from me, but I’m genuinely concerned. No strings, I just want to make sure you’re okay.

I’m not trying to pry, but isolation doesn’t help. If you need a break from everything, my line’s always open.

You sit there, staring at the string of messages, each one making you feel a little more seen, a little more cared for. You aren’t even sure you want to acknowledge that right now. It’s almost too much, the kindness wrapped in Eris’ words, especially when everything else feels like it’s crumbling around you.

But Eris’ texts… they’re a lifeline, a small thread of connection in a sea of isolation. You pick up your phone again, reading through the messages once more, feeling the sincerity behind them. The idea of responding, of reaching out, is both comforting and terrifying. But the thought of facing all of this alone, of letting it continue to eat away at you in silence, is somehow worse.

Your fingers start to move, typing out a response before you can second-guess yourself.

you’re not prying, thanks for checking in. captain morgan’s been keeping me company lmfao

No sooner do you turn your phone off and toss it onto the bed beside you does the screen light up again with a buzz. That was fast.

Sounds like he’s good company, but maybe not the best listener. How about a real conversation instead?

You can almost hear the playful tone in his words, a lightness that cuts through the heavy fog of your thoughts. It’s enough to make you smile, just a little, even as the weight of everything else still hangs over you.

Another buzz and his next message appears.

Seriously, if you want to talk, my door’s open. No pressure, just an offer.

You can tell he’s trying to strike a balance, not pushing it too hard but still getting through your head that he’s there. It’s disarming in a way, and it leaves you wondering if maybe, just maybe, you should take him up on that offer.

thanks eris, i might take you up on that. it’s just… a lot rn, yknow?

There’s a pause, the seconds ticking by as you wait for his reply. You don’t have to wait long, and it’s as straightforward a reply as you expected.

I get it. You didn’t make the mess alone, just wanted you to know you don’t have to deal with it alone. And if you want to get out of your place for a bit, my offer still stands. You can even invite the captain as your plus one if that helps.

You smile at that, a small huff of amusement escaping you. The thought of getting out of your old childhood bedroom, of not being surrounded by the same four walls that have seen you at your lowest, is more appealing than you’d like to admit. Maybe a change of scenery, and the chance to talk things out with someone, would help.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you think about how to respond. Part of you wants to dive in and take him up on the offer right away, but another part of you hesitates, unsure how it would look if Cassian found out. You decide to keep things simple. You don’t respond.

Without paying any mind to the countless social media, text, and call notifications from your other friends, you open your texts with Nesta and make a FaceTime call. The thought of her blunt honesty is a small comfort in your otherwise bleak current existence.

Her face appears on the screen, and though her expression is one of surprise and concern, you can’t help but feel a twinge of relief.

“Where’ve you been? You look…”

She trails off, her eyes narrowing as she takes in your appearance. You glance at yourself in the small window at the top corner of the screen. Your eyes are puffy and red, your face is pale, and the bags under your eyes seem darker than ever.

“Talk to me,” Nesta says, her voice gentle but firm, as if trying to cut through the fog of your despair.

You draw a deep breath, the weight of your emotions pressing heavily on your chest. “I don’t even know where to start,” you admit, your voice trembling. “Everything feels like it’s falling apart. I’m a fucking mess.”

Nesta’s gaze softens further, her concern palpable. She leans in slightly, her tone soothing yet resolute. “You can tell me whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m here.”

The hesitation is palpable as you search for the right words, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. Finally, you find the courage to confess. “I messed up, Nesta. I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’ve ruined everything.”

Nesta’s expression tightens, her eyes flicking to something off-screen for a moment before she returns her focus to you. She runs a hand through her hair, a sigh escaping her lips as she gathers her thoughts. “Just... try to explain what happened.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions before asking, “Do you know what’s been going on?”

Nesta’s gaze momentarily shifts away, a flicker of something you can’t quite read passing over her face. “I’ve heard bits and pieces,” she begins, her tone deliberately vague. “But I’d rather hear it from you.”

Sensing her evasiveness, you decide to give her a broad overview. You explain the guilt and confusion you're feeling, how everything seemed to unravel and make the situation worse than you could have imagined. You describe the betrayal and the weight of not knowing how to mend things. By the time you’ve caught her up, your words are coming out through hysterical cries and gasps for air between sobs.

Nesta listens quietly, absorbing the emotional weight of your words. Her expression reflects a mix of sympathy and contemplation as she processes the gravity of what you’ve shared.

“I broke that boundary to hell, Nesta. I ruined everything.” Your voice trembles with the weight of your confession, the words feeling like a leaden anchor pulling you down.

Nesta’s brows knit together, her concern deepening as she tilts her head slightly. “What boundary…?” she asks, her tone gentle yet probing, as if trying to piece together the fragments of your unraveling story.

You swallow hard, trying to steady your breath, but a sniffle escapes you. “They’ve all been pretty flirty with me since the beginning, and Cassian and I… we decided early on that we didn’t mind it?” You pause, glancing down at your hands as you fidget with the red scrunchie around your wrist, twisting the fabric between your fingers. “So we’d just let them like… make comments… touch up on me a little–”

A sudden, sharp gasp crackles through the phone speaker, cutting through your words like a knife. Your eyes narrow as you stare at the screen in confusion. That sound hadn’t come from Nesta; you’d been watching her intently this whole time, and her lips hadn’t moved.

You furrow your brows, your heart quickening with unease. “What was that? Is there someone there with you?” you ask, trying to keep the edge of suspicion out of your voice, but failing.

But her face is the image of calm, save for the confusion in her furrowed brows. “Huh? Oh, it was just the TV,” she says, quickly flipping her phone around to show you the screen. The shaky camera reveals a reality show playing in the background, the exaggerated drama of strangers’ lives filling the awkward silence.

But your gut tells you something’s off. The way her hand shook just a little as she moved the phone, the tension still lingering in her posture. It all feels wrong. Despite her attempt to brush it off, the seed of doubt has been planted, taking root in the back of your mind.

Nesta flips the phone back to face her, and her voice is smooth and encouraging as she speaks. “So, what are you going to do? Are you going to talk to him?”

You hesitate, letting out a sigh as you rub your temple. “I don’t know. I’m scared of what he’ll say, or worse... what he won’t say. I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of rejection, Nesta.”

She nods slowly, her expression softening into one of understanding. “You have to do what feels right for you, but running away won’t make it any easier in the long run. I know it’s—and I’m sorry to say this—your fault, but you still deserve to know where things stand, even if it’s hard to face.”

You shift uncomfortably, the weight of her words pressing down on you. “I know, I just... I need time to think. To figure out what I want, what I’ll do.”

Nesta listens patiently, offering her quiet support as you continue to spill your thoughts. The conversation drifts from your immediate fears to the what-ifs. She shares some of her own experiences, her voice a mix of tough love and genuine care, giving you just enough space to feel heard without feeling judged.

The minutes tick by, and soon you find yourself leaning back into the pillows, the exhaustion creeping in. You talk about other things too, and an hour passes before you even realize it, the conversation winding down naturally, both of you running out of things to say. It’s a comfortable silence now, a brief respite from the storm of emotions you’ve been weathering.

“I should let you go,” you finally say, your voice soft. “Thanks for listening, Nes. I... I needed this.”

Nesta smiles, a touch of warmth breaking through her usual stoic demeanor. “Anytime. You know I’m here for you.”

You nod, feeling a little lighter, if only for a moment. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

As you move to end the call, you hear it—faint, but unmistakable. A voice, muffled but clear enough to make out the words: “No way–”

Your heart skips a beat, but before you can react, the call disconnects, leaving you staring at the screen, that single phrase echoing in your mind. The voice wasn’t Nesta’s, and it sure as hell didn’t come from the TV. You know that voice. It’s familiar in a way that makes your stomach churn, your pulse quicken. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks, a cold wave of dread washing over you.

It was Elain’s. You’re sure of it. You sit there for a moment, phone still in hand, your mind racing. But why would she be there hidden from view? Why wouldn’t she just say hello or at least make her presence known? The questions tumble over each other, forming a gnawing pit of unease in your gut.

Then, like pieces of a puzzle snapping together, the thought hits you: Elain was listening in, but she didn’t want you to know she was there. The secrecy, the way Nesta quickly tried to cover it up. It wasn’t just about eavesdropping. No, it felt intentional, like Elain was trying to gain insight into your situation with Cassian. Your breath catches in your throat as the implications sink in. A cold, hard truth begins to crystallize in your mind. She wanted to know the details because it mattered to her. It mattered because she’s involved—because she and Cassian are…

You don’t want to finish the thought, but it’s there, undeniable and ugly. Elain and Cassian. It explains the secrecy, the way Nesta tried to protect her, and the sickening feeling gnawing at your insides.

The weight of it is almost unbearable, pressing down on you as you sit there, phone in hand, processing the cruel truth that’s just come to light. Elain and Cassian. How? Why? You never saw any sign in their interactions before. The bitterness of the revelation is a sharp, relentless edge in your chest — you need to do something, anything, to shake off this feeling.

You push yourself up from the bed with a determined resolve, your mind racing with anger and the need to reclaim some sense of control. First things first: you need to wash off the remnants of the last two weeks, the sweat and guilt that cling to you.

The hot water of the shower is a welcome relief against your skin, and you let the steam envelop you, trying to wash away the emotions churning inside. You lather up, scrubbing away the sweat and liquor and cigarette smoke, letting the water run over you until you feel clean, both physically and mentally. You stand under the spray, letting the water cascade down your body as if it could cleanse the memories away. When you’re done, you run a comb through your hair, detangling the wet strands with care before blow-drying and styling it, every strand perfectly in place and your arms sore by the time you’re done.

You reach for your phone, fingers hovering over the screen as you debate your next move. Finally, with a deep breath, you type out a message to Eris:

you still up for company?

It’s simple, to the point, and carries the weight of everything you’re feeling right now. Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this, but you hit send before you can overthink it, nerves and anticipation bubbling in your chest. As you wait for his reply, you glance at yourself in the mirror, taking in the freshly styled hair, and the clean skin. You look entirely different than you did this morning. You’re someone in control, someone who knows what she wants. Your phone buzzes.

Absolutely. I’ll swing by and pick you up.

You weren’t expecting that, but you don’t hesitate before replying with the address. His response is swift.

See you in 15.

Your eyes linger on the screen, absorbing his words as you double-tap and leave a heart his message. Something is grounding about the certainty in his response. No hesitation, no questions, just action. You set your phone down and take one last look in the mirror, a quiet determination settling in your chest. He’ll be here soon, and you have just enough time to get dressed.

You see Eris pulling up through your window, the white Jaguar rolling to a stop, and you take a deep breath before heading toward the door. As you walk down the driveway towards him, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the car’s window. Jean shorts and a hand-cropped t-shirt—casual and understated.

Eris’s eyes meet yours as you approach the car, his expression softening with concern. There’s no sign of the smirk you usually see on his face. Just a steady gaze that feels sincere. He leans over the center console and opens the door for you, a simple gesture, but one that makes your heart feel lighter.

As you settle into the passenger seat, you set your tote bag down in the footwell. It holds a mostly full bottle of Captain Morgan, a pack of Newports, some gum, and a lighter you grabbed on your way out.

Eris’s eyes flick to the neck of the bottle sticking out of the bag before he asks, “Bringing the party with you?”

You shrug, offering a faint smile. “You did say I was allowed a plus one.”

He nods, his tone softening. “That I did... You okay?” he asks, pulling away from the curb.

You glance at him, a bit surprised at the shift from teasing to concern. “Not really,” you admit quietly.

Eris gives a small nod, his eyes still on the road. “Could’ve guessed the answer, huh?” he remarks, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly.

You offer a wry smile and a quiet “yeah.” You glance out the window as the sunlight reflects off passing buildings. “But I figured getting out of the house might not hurt. What were you thinking of doing?”

Eris keeps his eyes on the road. “I can swing by somewhere if you need to grab something or,” he pauses, a sly grin forming. “Or if you’re up for unwinding a bit…”

You raise an eyebrow, catching the playful glint in his eye. “What are you suggesting?”

He shrugs, one hand gripping the steering wheel casually. “We could stop by my plug’s place and pick something up, if you’re looking to take the edge off. He’s got some good shit.”

You lean back in your seat, considering his offer. The idea of numbing your mind with something other than liquor is very tempting. You glance at Eris, his casual demeanor giving nothing away, but you can sense that beneath the surface, he’s paying close attention to your reaction.

You nod, feeling a sense of resolve settling in. “Let’s do it. I could use a change of pace.”

Eris keeps his eyes on the road, but there’s a flicker of approval in them. “Alright, then,” he says with a grin, shifting lanes smoothly as he changes direction. His hands move with practiced ease, one gripping the steering wheel and the other shifting gears with effortless precision. You glance up from your phone just in time to see him reach into the center console. He pulls out a sleek pack of Dunhills, taps one out, and lights it with a quick flick of his lighter.

The cigarette sits casually between his lips, its ember glowing softly as its smoke curls lazily around him. “Want a cig?” he asks, his tone casual as he cracks his window.

You hesitate for a moment, then nod, reaching out for the cigarette sticking out of the pack. Eris passes it to you with a small knowing smile, his eyes flicking briefly to meet yours before returning to the road and lowering your window for you. You take a drag, the smoke filling your lungs and momentarily dulling the edges of your lingering unease. It’s quite the difference from the menthol kick of your usual Newports. The flavor is richer, with a deep, earthy undertone that’s almost woody. It feels more refined, less about the immediate hit, and more about a lingering, sophisticated aftertaste. You exhale, the smoke curling in the air, and the taste leaves a warmth that’s oddly comforting.

“Helps, doesn’t it?” he glances at you, a touch of curiosity in his gaze.

You exhale slowly, watching the smoke get pulled out the window. “A little… Thanks,” you say, and you both know it isn’t just for the cigarette.

Eris nods, his grin widening slightly. “Anytime. We’ve got a bit of a drive, so just get comfortable. We’ll hit the place soon.”

You settle back as Eris merges onto the highway. The sun is high, casting a warm light over the passing scenery. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the classic rock on the radio make for a relaxing ride. You gaze out the window, watching the landscape shift as the car speeds along. After finishing your cigarette, you hold onto the butt, not willing to litter. Eris is focused on the road, so you just hold onto it, unsure what else to do.

A few minutes later, Eris chuckles and glances over, eyebrow raised. “Were you going to hold onto it the whole ride? Come on, you can’t be serious.”

You give a small laugh, shaking your head. “Well, I wasn’t going to throw it out the window.”

Eris smirks, his eyes flicking to the cigarette butt in your hand. “Just give it to me.”

He reaches over, fingers brushing against your wrist as he tries to take it from you. But you’re quicker, pulling your hand away with a playful glare. “No!” you protest, holding the butt out of his reach. “You’re gonna throw it out the window!”

His grin widens, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leans closer, making another grab for it. “I won’t, I promise.” And for some reason, you believe him.

He takes the cigarette butt from your fingers and, with a practiced motion, opens the center console and undoes the locking mechanism on a glass jar. He drops it in, the jar already filled with likely a pack’s worth. The jar seals with a soft click, likely why you hadn’t noticed any lingering smell before. He shuts the jar and console, his attention never wavering from the road.

The smell-proof jar, not even considering littering, doing it all while keeping his eyes on the road—it’s the kind of thing that shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

The drive stretches on with the radio playing softly in the background. You watch the scenery blur past as the car weaves effortlessly through traffic. With the windows still cracked, you catch a glimpse of Eris’s auburn hair tousled by the breeze. The sun casts long shadows across the highway, and you find a strange comfort in the steady rhythm of the drive. Eventually, Eris slows the car, steering off the main road and into a sleek, gated driveway. The place is an upscale, modern mansion with neatly trimmed hedges. Not what you expected. He parks near the entrance and turns to you with a casual smile.

“I’ll leave the car running,” he says. “Lock up, I’ll be quick.”

You nod, watching as he gets out and heads toward the front door. The gate closes behind him with a gentle click, leaving you alone in the plush interior of the car. After a few minutes, Eris reappears with a small, discreet bag in his pocket. He slips back into the driver’s seat, the bag placed neatly into the center console.

The car pulls out of the driveway, and Eris’s eyes flick toward you as he navigates the streets with practiced ease.

“Any special spots in mind, or are you up for anywhere?” he asks, the hint of a grin in his voice.

You shrug, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Nah, yours is fine.”

He gives a teasing scoff, putting a hand on his chest as he speaks. “My place is special, (y/n), you wound me.”

His words pull a genuine laugh from you. It really wasn’t that funny, but hearing your name on his tongue so casually stirs a nervous flutter in your chest.

“What’s so special about it?”

“Besides the view, or the pool, or the game room?” he pauses for dramatic effect, lowering his voice to a murmur. “Yours, truly.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is that so? And what makes you so special?”

Eris lets out a soft laugh, his gaze flicking to you before returning to the road. “Well, I’ve been told I’ve got a talent for making things unforgettable.”

“Someone’s got a massive ego.”

He grins, his eyes glinting with confidence. “Guilty as charged. You like it though.”

You roll your eyes at that, unable to keep the smile from creeping onto your face any longer. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Ah, you didn’t deny it. I’ll take it.”

“You’re impossible,” you laugh softly, shaking your head.

As the highway fades into the background, the road before you begins to wind through lush greenery. The towering trees start to crowd in, their canopies forming a dappled, sunlit tunnel. Fields of wildflowers stretch out on either side. The road curves gently, revealing glimpses of a large, elegant house nestled among the trees, its silhouette framed by the tranquil lake shimmering in the late afternoon light.

When you step inside, the first thing you notice is how effortlessly cool the place feels—like it’s been designed with a blend of sophistication and laid-back charm. The living room is spacious and airy, with large windows that let in plenty of natural light, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floors. The furniture is a mix of sleek modern pieces and cozy, oversized cushions that invite you to sink in and relax.

Eris heads over to a low cabinet and retrieves a small grinder and some neatly rolled-up papers from a hidden drawer. He moves with casual confidence, clearly in his element. You couldn’t help but wonder how many women he’d invited here for a smoke before you, having to remind yourself that this wasn’t that. You’re here as a friend who needs an attentive ear.

“So,” he says, flashing a grin as he begins grinding the weed, “what do you think of the place?”

You settle into the sofa, taking in the room’s ambiance. The walls are adorned with tasteful art, and the scent of cedarwood and something subtly herbal fills the air. It’s inviting.

“Not bad, huh?” Eris continues, leaning against the cabinet and looking down at the papers in his hand.

You chuckle, glancing around. “Yeah, it’s alright.”

His eyes dart up to meet yours, a playful, mock-surprised smile on his face. “Crazy…” he murmurs.

You roll your eyes with a smile. “Oh come on, you know it’s a nice place. I'm not gonna shower you with more compliments than you need.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he sits on the couch, starting on the joint. The sound of the grinder and the rustle of the papers are the background to your conversation. “Fair enough. But before we get too cozy with this,” he nods toward his work, “let’s talk. I’d rather hear how you’re really doing.”

You hesitate, feeling a bit vulnerable all of a sudden. “I don’t know if I can get through it all sober.”

Eris looks at you with a soft, reassuring smile, his fingers pausing briefly as they work the paper. “Just try.”

For a moment, you’re silent, the sound of the grinder filling the space between you. You look around the room, at the art on the walls, the low light casting a warm glow over everything. It’s easier to focus on that than on the storm inside your head.

But then you find his gaze again, and the quiet concern in his eyes makes something inside you crack, just a little. "It’s just… everything’s been so overwhelming lately," you begin, your voice soft. "I keep making these choices that… I don't know how to explain it… I’m digging myself into a deep, deep hole. And I don’t know how to get out." You hesitate as you try to find the right words. “It’s just… I don’t even know why I let it happen. I mean, I love Cassian, he’s everything to me. But every time I’m with you,” the words catch in your throat, and you quickly clarify, “with all of you, I mean… I feel like I’m losing myself, like I’m just drifting through all of it without thinking. It’s like I’m not even in control anymore.”

Your voice trembles as the floodgates open, the words spilling out faster than you can stop them. “And the guilt… it’s eating me alive. Every time I’d see Cassian, it was like I was drowning in it. When we went to sleep at night, when he’d kiss me, when we cooked dinner, when he’d tell me he loves me and I said it back with a straight face, knowing what I’ve done… I keep asking myself why I did it, why I kept doing it, but I don’t have an answer. I don’t even know if I’m looking for one or if I’m just trying to justify something that can’t be justified.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the weight of it all is too much. “I thought I could handle it, that I could keep everything separate, but it’s all tangled up now. I’m tangled up. And I don’t know how to fix it, or if I even can.” You pause, swallowing hard as you try to gather your thoughts. Focusing on how methodically he rolls the joint is the only way you can keep from crying. “The past couple of weeks have been a nightmare,” you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. “Every day feels like I’m just… going through the motions. I wake up, and for a split second, everything’s fine. But then it all comes crashing back, and I remember what I’ve done. It’s like this constant weight on my chest, and I can’t breathe.”

There’s a heavy silence as you finish, the room feeling almost too quiet. You glance at Eris, the exhaustion in your eyes reflecting your need for a break from the emotional turmoil. “I can’t keep talking about this right now,” you say, your voice wavering slightly. “I just need to… I don’t know.”

Eris nods, a knowing look in his eyes. “Yeah, I got you,” He stands up, moving with a relaxed confidence, and heads towards the kitchen. You watch him, feeling a small flicker of relief at the prospect of a distraction. He returns with two glasses of ice, setting them down on the coffee table before lighting the joint and pointing towards your bag for the rum. When you reach to pour the drinks, he gently takes the bottle from you, pouring them himself.

You take the glass when he offers it, the alcohol warming your insides and helping to dull the sharp edges of your thoughts. Eris hands you the joint, a small, encouraging smile on his lips. “Here’s to a temporary escape,” he says, his tone lighter now.

You take a slow drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs and the effects of the alcohol and weed start to mingle in your system. The combination is soothing, and you feel the tension begin to ease. As the minutes pass, you can feel the fog of intoxication settling in, and your thoughts become less jagged.

A while later, the room is darker now, the only light coming from the soft glow of the lamp on the side table. The drinks are empty and the bottle of rum you brought stands proudly, and emptily, in the center of the table. The joint is long finished, and the conversation has shifted from heavy to light. You and Eris are more relaxed on the couch, and the air is filled with more classic rock, the remnants of laughter, and the gentle hum of your voices.

You lean back, feeling pleasantly buzzed, the haze of the alcohol and weed wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth. Eris is sitting right next to you, his leg pressed against yours, his hand resting casually on the cushion next to you. The shared warmth and comfortable silence between you feel natural.

“You know,” you say, your voice slightly slurred but lighthearted, “I didn’t think I’d find myself here tonight, like this. But... I’m glad I did.”

Eris glances over at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “Sometimes the unexpected turns out to be the best part of the night.”

You chuckle softly, the sound mingling with the music playing in the background. “Yeah, it’s funny how things work out. I definitely needed this more than I realized.”

He nods, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “It’s good to let go now and then. Just don’t forget there’s still shit to unpack when you’re ready.”

You let out a deep sigh, your gaze drifting around the dimly lit room. There’s a moment of hesitation as the weight of your earlier conversation looms on the edge of your thoughts. The alcohol and weed have softened the edges, but the heaviness is still there.

Eris shifts slightly, his hand moving a bit closer in the process. Whether it was intentional or not, you don’t know. “You know,” he says gently, “it’s not every day you find someone willing to listen without judgment. You should take advantage of that.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the pressure build behind your eyes. “Cassian… he’s been nothing but loving, nothing but kind to me. And it kills me, Eris. It kills me to look at him and know that I’ve betrayed him in the worst possible way. Multiple times.” You feel the lump in your throat as you continue, the warmth of the alcohol making it easier to let your words flow. “I keep trying to think of ways to fix it, to find some sort of answer or way to redeem myself. But...” Your eyes search the dim room as if trying to find some clarity in the shadows.

“I keep going over every moment, every decision, wondering where things went so fucking wrong. It’s like replaying a movie where I know the ending is tragic, but I can’t look away. I did this shit to myself…

“The hardest part is that he saw everything. He didn’t even need me to confess; he saw it with his own eyes. And everytime I replay that night, I think about how coldly he looked at me. He’s never looked at me like that before. Not that I don’t deserve it.” You glance at Eris, the weight of your emotions clear in your eyes. “I’m trapped in this cycle of guilt and regret, and it’s suffocating. I don’t even know what I’m looking for anymore—whether it’s forgiveness, understanding, or just a way to get rid of all this guilt. The thought of facing Cass again… God, I can’t…”

Eris’s eyes narrow slightly as he takes it all in, draping an arm across the back of the couch. You aren’t quite close enough for it to wrap around you.

You mentally chastise yourself for wishing you were. Thinking like that is what got you into this mess.

His voice is low but steady when he speaks. “You’re human. You made choices. Bad ones, sure, but it doesn’t make you a monster.” He pauses, his gaze intense. “It’s easy to get lost in guilt. But you’re not doing anyone any favors by going MIA. Especially not Cassian.”

You scoff. “Cass doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“How are you so sure?” he asks, his fingers drumming lightly against the couch, the rhythm steady and patient, unlike the chaos unleashed in your mind by the simple question.

The Facetime with Nesta shoves itself to the forefront of your mind as if your subconscious has been holding it back all this time. You’d heard Elain’s voice in the background, imagined her laughter mingling with Cassian’s, imagined him sharing her breath, his tongue deep in—

The thought hit you like a sucker punch, just as the air had been knocked out of your lungs the moment you’d put the pieces together.

“I’m pretty sure Cassian is fucking Elain,” you blurt out, your voice shaking with the weight of the confession.

Eris’s expression doesn’t change, but his eyes sharpen. “Why do you think that?” he asks calmly, though there’s a new edge to his voice.

You swallow hard, the memory still raw. “When I was on a call with Nesta, I heard Elain in the background. She was trying to listen in on me ranting about this all to Nesta… She didn’t even say hi to me, didn’t let me know she was there. Why would she do that unless she was hiding something?”

Eris raises an eyebrow, his expression skeptical but curious. “You might be reading too much into this,” he says, but the sharpness of your gaze makes him backtrack quickly. “Alright, alright, I didn’t mean it like that. Just… how are you so sure they’re involved?”

You exhale sharply, frustration evident. “Cassian is incredibly vindictive in bed,” you say, thinking back to all the times he’d gone hard on you just for catching you making eyes at one of the guys. “I’ve been through his friends, I’d be more shocked if he didn’t try to go through mine.”

Eris’s eyes narrow thoughtfully. “Most of his friends.” He doesn’t elaborate but the implication is clear. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but it’s not always best to assume the worst.”

A fleeting thought crosses your mind. Eris is right. You and he never crossed that line, despite the heated moments over the years, despite the events the night of Ianthe’s party. If Cassian is dropping you off on your mom’s doorstep just to go after your friends, maybe it’s time for you to stop moping around and start embracing some fun yourself. Why should you sit at home and stew when he’s out there doing who knows what? Who knows who? For all you knew, Nesta had fucked him too. And, honestly, Eris doesn’t look half bad in that black, fitted t-shirt and tailored jeans, the thin silver chain around his neck glinting in the low light. There’s a roguish charm about him, just as there’s always been. It’s something that makes him undeniably tempting.

You look down at your lap with a sigh, a feigned sadness in your eyes, and a playful pout on your lips. “Well, if Cassian’s going to do whatever he wants, maybe I should too.” You look up, letting your gaze linger on him, lowering to his lips before meeting his eyes again.

Eris’s eyes flicker with surprise, but he maintains his cool as he raises a brow. “Is this where we’re headed now? I thought we were in the middle of something a bit more serious.”

You scoot closer to him, close enough for the hand on the back of the couch to rest on your shoulder if he wanted it to. “Maybe I’m tired of pitying myself. Or maybe I’m feeling adventurous.” A glint of mischief sparkles in your eyes before you slip back into your act.

Eris chuckles, a faint smile curling his lips. “A distraction, huh? You know that won’t fix anything.”

You shrug, maintaining your demeanor. “Who says it has to be about fixing anything? Sometimes a little distraction is just what you need,” you level. Tired of the theatrics, you scoot even closer and grab that god-forsaken hand, placing it gently on the back of your neck.

Eris’s fingers linger there, his expression shifting from playful to intrigued before he traces soft patterns on your skin. “Is that right? And here I thought you were just looking for a friendly ear.”

You lean closer, your voice dropping to a softer, more flirtatious tone. “You mean to tell me you didn’t have any other intentions? Not a single fleeting thought?”

Eris’s gaze drops to your lips, his eyes narrowing with intrigue. “So, what are you suggesting? Are we breaking some rules tonight?”

You let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, something like that. A night of enjoyment. No strings attached, just...”

Your words trail off as you close the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a slow, heated kiss. His hand grips the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. It starts slow, almost exploratory, but quickly deepens as you both lose yourselves in the moment. The taste of liquor lingers on his tongue, a heady mix of rum and something uniquely Eris. You savor it, letting the alcohol-infused warmth of the kiss sweep over you. Your lips move against his with increasing urgency, and you gently tug at his lower lip, pulling him closer.

Eris’s hand tightens around the back of your neck, his fingers sliding into your hair as he angles his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue meets yours with a bold, almost possessive stroke, and you pull back just slightly, your breath mingling with his. Your eyes lock, the heat still palpable between you. “I like the taste of you,” you murmur, a playful glint in your eyes.

He exhales, a low, throaty sound that’s part groan, part sigh, as if you’re unraveling him with every word, every touch. It’s the kind of sound that sends a shiver through you, making you feel like you’ve got him right where you want him. His eyes darken with desire and amusement before he leans back in to capture your lips again. This time, the kiss is more intense, a dance of passion and need. His hands roam to your waist, pulling you even closer. The world outside seems to fade away as you both lose yourselves in each other.

Eris’s lips trail down to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You arch into him, the sensation of his touch making you shiver. You let out a soft moan as he kisses a sensitive spot just below your ear, making your pulse race. You’re left feeling lightheaded from the drinks and the smoke, and every touch, every caress feels electrifying. His hands slide up to your back, pulling you tighter against him, if possible.

His lips return to yours, and this time, the kiss is unrestrained, filled with a raw, urgent need. You can feel the strength in his arms, the way he holds you close, as if afraid that letting go might make this moment slip away. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze smoldering. There’s a breathless pause, the intensity of the moment hanging between you. “You said you were feeling adventurous,” he says, and you shrug. “How adventurous?” His voice is low and his words are laced with an intensity that wasn’t there before.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound almost breathless from the heated kiss. “You’re not planning on taking me out back and murdering me, are you?” you joke, looking out the large windows at the sea of tree silhouettes around you.

Eris’s lips curl into a half-smile. “Well, I hadn’t thought of it, but now that you mention it…”

You nudge him playfully, your smile widening.

Eris’s expression turns serious again, though the amusement in his eyes doesn’t fade. “I promise, nothing like that. But I do have something in mind that might be a bit… beyond what you’re used to.”

You look into his eyes, feeling a mix of anticipation and excitement. “I sincerely doubt that,” you say, your voice steady. You’ve had more than your fair share of sexual escapades, indulging in all kinds of experiences in past relationships. And with Cassian, the bedroom was never without a spark—rarely did things stay simple.

Eris’s eyes brighten with satisfaction. “Good to hear.”

He stands and grabs another joint he’d rolled earlier, offering you a hand to help you up. You take it with a playful smile and follow him.

The music fades as you follow Eris down a short flight of steps. The hallway is lined with eclectic art and framed photos. One with Eris surrounded by a bunch of dogs, a grin on his face that’s more genuine than you’ve ever seen. Another with the Vipers, his arm slung casually around Azriel, all of their faces flushed with victory. You have to talk yourself out of paying too much attention to Cassian in that one. There’s even one of him with who you assume is his family, standing in front of a cabin, all smiles and warmth. It’s a side of him you’ve never seen before, and it makes you see him in a different light—one that’s more personal, more real.

At the end of the hall, a large bookshelf stands against the wall. Eris pauses, throwing you a sly glance before reaching for one of the books. He pulls it, then pushes the bookshelf open, revealing a short set of steps leading down into a hidden space below. How cliché.

“After you,” he murmurs, gesturing for you to step inside.

You look at him with creased eyebrows, to which he only gestures his arm in again. You find a lounge, set slightly lower than the rest of the house, with five or so steps leading down into it. The room is richly decorated, with dark wood paneling, plush seating, and warm, ambient lighting that adds to the intimate, secluded atmosphere.

Eris follows you inside, closing the bookshelf door behind him. The room is completely private, a hidden sanctuary within his home. He steps closer, holding the joint he rolled earlier between his fingers. “What do you think?” he asks, his voice carrying a note of quiet pride.

You take a moment to absorb the space, your eyes drifting over the rich details—the king-size bed on the far wall, the soft glow of the lighting, the floor-to-ceiling mirror on one wall, the smooth texture of the dark wood, the way the room seems to envelop you in warmth. It's intimate without being suffocating, luxurious without feeling ostentatious. You notice cabinets discreetly integrated into the walls, their contents hidden behind polished doors. A smirk tugs at your lips as you turn to face him. “I can honestly say I wouldn’t have expected this from you, Eris. A sex dungeon? Really?”

Eris arches a brow, looking mildly offended. “Dungeon? That’s what you’d call it?”

You raise an eyebrow in response, your teasing tone unwavering as you gesture around the room. “Isn’t that what it is? Hidden room, dark wood, all the ambiance… seems like a dungeon to me.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Dungeons are cold and grimey. This is a private lounge, a sanctuary, carefully curated for… specific tastes.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound echoing softly in the room. “A curated sanctuary, huh? You really do have a way with words.”

Eris’s lips curve into a smirk as he reaches for your hand. “Words, among other things.”

He lets the words hang in the air, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. You arch an eyebrow, leaning in slightly as if challenging him. “Among other things?” you echo, your tone playful. “Care to elaborate?

He steps closer, his gaze steady and full of intent. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he replies, his voice smooth as silk. “But first, I need to know how far you’re willing to go.”

Your heart skips a beat, not out of fear but from the thrill of the unknown. You’re no stranger to pushing boundaries, and something about Eris’s confident, almost predatory demeanor only heightens your anticipation.

Instead of answering directly, you take a step closer, closing the remaining distance between you. “You really think this kind of thing is—What was it you said? ‘Beyond what I’m used to’, was it?” you tease, your lips curving into a smirk.

Eris’s smile widens, his eyes gleaming with challenge. “Alright, alright,” he murmurs before he pulls you in by the small of your back for another heated kiss, and he speaks against your lips. “You have full say in how this goes, I don’t want to go any further than you’re okay with.”

You pull him off by the hair on the nape of his neck, and the muted hiss that escapes him shoots straight to your core. “Oh, well if I’ve got full say,” you say, sarcasm lacing your words. “Give me whatever you think I can take, and then some.” You give him a dazzling smile, but he can only look at you in wonder.

His hands find your waist, giving the flesh there a tight, possessive squeeze. He leans forward, bringing his lips to your ear. “C’mon, pretty girl, strip for me.” His voice is low, almost coaxing, with a soft yet commanding tone that makes your skin tingle.

Though you’re surprised at his suddenness, you don’t hesitate. As you begin to strip away your clothes, Eris steps away, moving toward a large set of deep drawers. He looks back at you as he goes, drinking in your every movement as you peel off each item of clothing. First you shed your shirt, then the shorts, followed by your socks, underwear, and even the scrunchie on your wrist. The air thickens with anticipation as you wait, rather impatiently, to see what he’s looking for.

“Y’know, most guys wouldn’t have their back turned to the beautiful, naked woman in their basement,” you muse, examining your nails as you stand perfectly tall.

“First, it’s not a basement.” He turns to you, black rope in hand, his smirk tinged with an emotion you can’t quite place. “But you’re right, baby. I’m sorry. How about I make it up to you?”

You have to suppress a shiver at his words, or maybe it’s because of the cool air on your bare skin. He takes you in like it’s his first time seeing you, like he didn’t have you practically grinding against the heel of his hand two weeks ago. You’re not sure if it’s the substances in your system or the prospect of doing whatever he can imagine to you, but he feels different today than he had then.

Eris reaches into one of the drawers and pulls out a small, sleek controller. With a quick press of a button, a rig begins to descend from the ceiling, the soft hum of the motor filling the room. He keeps his eyes on you, holding the controller loosely in one hand as the rig stops at around eye level.

His tone is almost casual as he walks back towards you with the rope, the controller goes into his pocket. “Ever use one of these before?” You can only shake your head in response as you walk around the metal hook, thinking for the first time that you may be in over your head. “Good. Go ahead and kneel there for me.”

Eris moves behind you as you kneel, working the rope through the rig and instructing you to place your hands behind your back. The rope isn’t as rough against your skin as you anticipated. His hands work with practiced ease, securing your wrists together. He steps back, watching you with a satisfied expression. Then, with deliberate slowness, he begins to raise the rig, the rope tugging your wrists upward. The position forces you to stand as it continues to rise, his eyes narrowing as you do.

Once you’re in position, bent forward with your arms forced behind you, Eris steps closer again, his fingers tracing the line of your spine. “You look so good like this,” he murmurs against your ear. His fingers skim up your arm, lingering at the nape of your neck. His touch is almost tender, a stark contrast to the tension in the room. “Is it okay if I–”

“Do whatever you want,” you interrupt, your voice steady even as your heart races. “If I don’t like it, I’ll let you know. Just do something, please…” You needed a distraction from your thoughts, and the newness of this all was sobering you up.

A slow, approving smile spreads across his lips as he nods. Without another word, he goes to a cabinet, selecting a few items with deliberate care. When he returns, the scent of him envelops you as he carefully ties a blindfold around your head, plunging you into darkness.

You hear the soft rustle of fabric and the click of something plastic. Before you can dwell on it, the world goes silent as something is placed over your ears. The shift is sudden, disorienting. The subtle hum of the room, even the sound of your own breathing, everything fades away, leaving you in an almost eerie stillness.

The rope tugs uncomfortably, but not painfully, at your wrists, the tension in your arms pulling you taut. Your heart pounds, each beat echoing in your chest, reminding you of the vulnerability you’re allowing yourself. Then you feel it—a gentle tap on your jaw, followed by his thumb brushing against your lower lip, pulling it down slightly. You take the hint, opening your mouth for him. The next thing you feel is cool metal pressing against your lip as he slides a ring gag into place.

“If you need to stop,” he says after raising an ear of the sound-canceling headphones, “shake your head and I’ll check on you. Nod if you understand.”

Just as you do, the pad is back over your ear.

You feel the air shift as he moves around you. Deprived of your sight and sound, your body becomes hypersensitive to every touch, every brush of fabric, every subtle shift in temperature. The tension in the air is palpable, your anticipation growing with each passing second.

A light touch trails down your spine, causing you to shiver involuntarily. The sensation is followed by the warmth of his hand as it settles on your hip, steadying you. You can barely hear your own breath, the sound muffled and distant, heightening the sense of isolation. Then, a gentle tap against your inner thigh. You instinctively spread your legs, the vulnerability of the action sending a rush of heat through your body as his touch lingers, waiting.

Then, without warning, a sharp sting lands across your ass. Your body jerks in response, the sting quickly dissolving into a low, throbbing heat. The unexpected strike pulls a soft whimper from your gagged mouth, but before you can even process it, another comes, and then another, each one precise and measured.

The blows alternate with the soft caress of his hand, the contrast between pleasure and pain pushing you deeper into the headspace he’s crafting for you. The strikes aren’t overwhelming, but each one is enough to remind you of the power he holds in this moment, the control you’ve willingly surrendered.

You lose track of time, each sharp strike followed by soothing touches, the rhythm lulling you into a dazed, almost meditative state. The gag keeps your mouth open, forcing you to focus on the steady rhythm of your breathing, each inhale and exhale carrying a mix of adrenaline and endorphins. The warmth of saliva trickles from the corners of your mouth. The rhythmic stinging across your ass slowly transforms into a heated, throbbing warmth that radiates through your body. Each strike, followed by the soft caress of his hand, leaves you in a heightened state of arousal and anticipation, melding into pain and pleasure that lull you deeper into the experience.

Suddenly, the warmth of his touch disappears, and you’re left in disorienting solitude. The absence of his presence makes you acutely aware of the emptiness left behind, amplifying your anticipation. Without warning, you feel something cool against your inner thigh, followed by the unmistakable sensation of a vibrator pressed against your dripping cunt. It’s startling, and though you can’t hear it, you moan, loud and needy.

His hand is on your hip, steadying you as the vibrations increase in intensity. The buzzing becomes loud and clear as he gently pulls the headphones off, and you hear them thud as they fall somewhere. The sudden reintroduction to sound is jarring as the room’s noises flood back in—the loud hum of the vibrator, the sounds you hadn’t realized you were making, the now husky tone in his voice. Each sound is more vivid than before.

Eris’s voice breaks through this new sensory flood, warm and approving. “You’re doing so well for me, baby,” he murmurs, his tone a soothing balm. After being spanked, then paddled for God knows how long, between his calm, reassuring voice and the relentless vibrations against your cunt, you aren’t sure how long you’ll last.

His fingers replace the vibrator, brushing lightly against your clit. He teases your folds, just enough to drive you wild with need. You squirm against the rope, desperate for more contact, for release.

“You want more, don’t you?” Eris’s voice is low, almost a purr as he leans closer. His breath is warm against your ear. “Tell me what you need.”

He rubs slow circles against you, his fingers like fire against your skin. You try to articulate what you need, but the gag muffles your words into incoherent sounds. The frustration of being so close and unable to finish draws an exasperated groan from you, and he responds with a deep, dark chuckle. Eris’s touch withdraws entirely, leaving you in aching anticipation. The sudden absence of his touch is maddening, your body craving the completion he’s denying you. You can’t see him, but you can feel the warmth of his presence lingering near.

Minutes pass, or maybe just seconds—time has lost all meaning in this swirling haze of sensations. Without warning, you feel the sharp sting of a flogger grazing your inner thighs, just enough to remind you of his control. The flogger’s strikes alternate between gentle taps and more forceful hits, never quite enough to satisfy your growing desperation, but enough to keep you on edge. Each touch pulls you further into the comforting fog he’s woven, and your whimpers morph into sharp yelps of pain, each one more urgent than the last.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs, his voice laced with mock sympathy. “Does it hurt, baby?” His tone is tender, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it that promises much more pain.

You groan, the sound a mix of frustration and need, but Eris’s expression hardens. The flogger lands on your skin again, a sharp crack that reverberates through your body. He grips the hair at the nape of your neck tightly, yanking you closer until your breath mingles with his. You can feel the heat of him, the solid presence that’s both terrifying and intoxicating. His lips hover near your ear, his breath raising goosebumps on your skin.

“Do you have something to say?” he asks, his tone noticeably darker and more dangerous. There’s a tense, almost impatient edge to it, a sign that stepping out of line is not an option. “A complaint? Are you ungrateful for what I’m giving you?”

The flogger’s strikes become more deliberate, more vicious. Each one lands with a stinging, biting pain that blossoms across your skin, the sensations mingling with the ache of your muscles straining to hold the position he’s put you in. He’s toying with you, savoring your helplessness, the way your body trembles and arches under his control, the way your breath hitches in anticipation of each new strike.

“Who’s in charge?” he whispers in a slow, deep voice, every word dripping with malice. You try to answer, but the gag in your mouth turns your response into a pathetic, muffled sound. Your eyes squeeze shut in frustration, tears of helplessness welling up and quickly absorbed by the blindfold. You can’t form the words, can’t tell him what he wants to hear, and that only makes it worse.

He clicks his tongue, a sound of feigned disappointment, and tugs your hair again, forcing your head back. “Ah, couldn’t quite catch that,” he sneers, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement.

You whimper, the sound a pitiful mix of plea and frustration, and he chuckles, a dark, cruel sound that sends a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly. He’s enjoying this — enjoying how easily you bend to his will, how every strike of the flogger makes you jerk forward with a cry. He wants to see it all, the way you crumble under his touch, the way you surrender every last shred of control and hand your worries away to him.

“I control how this goes,” he growls. “You said you’d be good for me, baby. Did you lie? Do I need to stop treating you like a good girl? Because I can do that if that’s what you want.” The flogger strikes down in the middle of your back with a crack that feels like it splits you open, and you cry out, the sound desperate. Your body lurches forward, but Eris’s hand is still in your hair, holding you in place, forcing you to stay still, to take every single lash he’s giving you.

“Look at you,” he hisses, his voice dripping with condescension. “So fucking needy. You love this, don’t you? Being my little toy, something I can break however I feel like.”

The words cut deep, the filth of them sending shockwaves through you. You hate how true they feel, how much you crave the pain, the degradation he’s giving you. The flogger strikes again, harder this time, and your knees almost buckle from the force of it. But you don’t fall. He won’t let you.

“Oh, you like when I treat you like this. You like this a lot better than before, I can tell. You’re just a fucking hole, aren’t you?” he continues. “A pretty little slut who’ll do anything to please me. Do you even have any shame left, or do you need me to fuck some sense into you?” The flogger descends again, and again, each strike punctuating his filthy words. “I’m going to break you, baby. Turn you into the perfect little slut who’ll take everything I give and then beg for more. And you’ll love it, won’t you? You’ll love being nothing but my whore, thinking about nothing except wanting my cock.”

Each word, each degrading, filthy word, sinks into your mind, pushing you further into the haze of submission. The pain of the flogger, the sting of his words, they’re all you can think about. Your world narrows to just him — his voice, his hands, the way he’s tearing you apart and building you back up, molding you into what he wants, what you need.

He pauses, the flogger still resting against your skin, the rough leather a reminder of what’s coming next. He drags it slowly down your back, letting it scrape over the welts he’s already raised. The sensation is entirely new, a subtle pleasure and pain that leaves you trembling.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmurs, his tone a bit gentler now, but still laced with that underlying cruelty. The change gives you whiplash. “I can see it. You want to be good for me, don’t you? You want to show me just how perfect you can be.”

The flogger strikes again, and you gasp, the sound a desperate cry. But this time, he doesn’t stop. He strikes again, and again, the rhythm relentless. Each lash pulls you further from the chaos of your thoughts, dragging you into a dark, twisted place where nothing exists but him. The pain and pleasure blend together until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

“You’re going to remember this, baby,” he promises. “You’re going to remember how it feels to be mine, to be owned. And you’re going to beg me for it again, aren’t you? You’re going to come crawling back desperate for me to use you, to turn that pretty little mind off and break you all over again.”

He’s right. You can feel it, deep in your bones, in the way your body responds to him, in the way your mind clings to every word he says.

Eris’s eyes never leave your face, his gaze predatory as he watches you fall apart for him, unraveling under the weight of his dominance. You’re exactly where he wants you — lost in the moment, completely detached from anything and everything happening outside these walls. As the flogger comes down one last time, sending a final, searing wave of pain through your body, you know that this is exactly where you need to be tonight.

Finally, when you’re trembling, he lowers the flogger and returns to your clit, the light, teasing touch of his fingers reigniting the fire within you. “You feel that, baby?” he whispers, his tone teasing. “Feel how wet you are for me? You like when I hit you, don’t you?” He drags two fingers up your center, gathering your slickness on them before bringing them up to your open mouth. “How badly do you want to come?”

You nod, desperate to show him how much you need this, but he’s not finished with you yet. “Tongue out,” he purrs, his voice a low, silky command that sends a shiver through your already trembling body. Without a moment’s hesitation, you obey, sticking your tongue through the cold metal of the ring gag. A string of saliva spills out at the motion, glistening in the low light, and you hear a soft, satisfied exhale from him.

Eris drags his fingers down your tongue, cleans them off inside your mouth, pressing them against your tongue. “Can you taste how badly you want it?” His voice is a dark, teasing caress, each word wrapping around your mind, sinking deeper into that place where only his voice and touch matter.

You can’t respond, not even attempt to, but the question is rhetorical anyway. He doesn’t need an answer; he knows. He withdraws his fingers, leaving your mouth empty, yearning for more. The loss makes you whimper, as does the ache in your jaw — a pitiful sound that he savors as he continues, his tone a mix of mockery and care.

“You can taste how good I’m making you feel, how much you love it when I hurt you. You want to taste something better, baby?”

Before you can process what he means, you hear the familiar flick of a lighter, the soft his as the flame catches. Your heart thumps in anticipation. A moment later, the smell of weed fills the air, earthy and heady.

Eris takes a slow, deep drag from the joint, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before he leans in close. His lips brush against the edge of the gag as he exhales, blowing the smoke directly into your mouth. It’s so unexpected, so sudden, that you choke, your body convulsing slightly as you try to inhale and cough at the same time.

The thick, pungent smoke fills your lungs, burning them and reigniting your high. You can feel him watching you intently, relishing the way your body reacts.

“Breathe, baby,” he murmurs, his voice deceptively gentle. “I want to see how much you can take.”

Your chest heaves as you fight to draw in air through the second cloud of smoke he blows your way. He chuckles, and with an almost casual motion, he reaches up and unfastens the gag, pulling it away from your mouth. The relief is immediate, but it’s laced with the residue of his control, the taste of smoke lingering on your tongue.

“There we go,” he coos, running his thumb over your wet, trembling lips. “Such a good fucking girl, taking what I give you. But we’re not done yet, are we? No, you’re going to give me more, right?”

His thumb presses against your lower lip, parting your mouth slightly, and you instinctively suck on it, the action almost automatic. Your body responds to him without thought, driven purely by the need to please, to submit, to give him everything.

When he finally, finally begins to untie you, his hands are gentle but firm, his touch careful as he releases the ropes one by one. The sensation of freedom is almost overwhelming after being bound for so long. But before you can fully process it, his hands are on you — supporting you and guiding your arms back down slowly and carefully. He pulls the blindfold from your eyes, and you try to readjust to the lighting.

He’s taking another pull, holding the joint between his lips as he takes you in. But that isn’t what stops you in your tracks. At some point during your immobility, he’d rid himself of his shirt, and you couldn’t stop your eyes from taking him in. His hair is tied back into a bun, strands having fallen loose around his face, and his chest is covered in a glistening layer of sweat. Images of Eris spanking you, walking around you and assessing where to land the next blow, of the muscles in his arms flexing as he strikes. The hungry look in his eyes and the tightness of his jeans as he watches you writhe under his touch.

“How do you feel, baby?” he asks, his tone teasing with an undercurrent of genuine curiosity. “Did I get you there? That nice little headspace where it’s just you and me?”

His voice is soft, but there’s an edge of satisfaction in it as if he already knows the answer. “Did it help?” he continues, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “Did I get you out of that busy little head of yours?”

You nod, still dazed by the intensity of the experience. You’d felt blissful before, sure, but this was entirely different. This was unadulterated endorphins and adrenaline. He grins, the expression both proud and wicked. “Good,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm against the lingering sensations.

But he doesn’t stop there. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Now, let’s see how long I can keep you floating, yeah? You’re not done yet.” Eris tosses the flogger in the general direction of the shelf it goes on, and guides you with a commanding yet gentle touch to a mat on the other side of the room, placed in front of full-length mirrors. The surface underfoot is soft and inviting, and he helps you kneel in the center, the plush cushioning molding to your knees. He moves behind you, his hands brushing along your arms until they rest on your shoulders, a comforting weight as he leans in close. He hands you the joint, inviting you to take a few hits before handing it back. The smoke in your mouth, in your lungs, it only boosts the floating feeling you have from the experience of this all.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice a low, velvety whisper that wraps around you like a warm embrace. “So beautiful, so ready. But I need you to understand something, sweetheart.” His hands slide down your arms until they reach your wrists, guiding them up to the back of your head. “I need you to be ready to trust me completely. How far I push you now is all about helping you relax, so you can completely lose yourself.”

He pauses, letting his words sink in, his breath warm against your ear. “This isn’t about making things difficult, not for either of us. It’s about you letting me guide you through this. I want you to be my good girl, to follow my lead and take everything I give you.”

His hands rest on your shoulders again, squeezing you lightly. “You’re going to do everything I ask, aren’t you? You’ll be obedient, you’ll let me push you, because you know I’m going to take care of you, don’t you?” His voice is soothing, like honey, and you can’t help but melt into it. “You’re going to give me all of you, every last bit, and in return, I’ll give you everything you need. Remember how you begged for this last time we were together? I want you to be that good girl for me again.”

As his words echo in your mind, you recall the last time you were with him, at Ianthe’s party. The memory is all too vivid — your desperate need, your willingness to surrender completely. You had been so open, so eager, voicing all your desires and pleas. The way you had let go of all inhibitions, the intensity of your submission, and the way your words had spilled out in a fervent, almost frenzied confession. The memory is as intoxicating now as it was then, all things considered.

His words are a gentle invitation, luring you in with a calm confidence that makes it impossible to say anything but yes. You feel hesitant as you consider the depth of your commitment. The tension in your chest tightens for a moment, but then you nod slowly, your voice soft. “Yes,” you murmur, the word barely a whisper but laden with an unspoken promise to embrace whatever he asks of you.

Eris’s fingers brush lightly over your hands, guiding you to interlace your fingers. He steps back to observe you, his eyes raking over your form, taking in every detail. The floor beneath you is hard, unforgiving, but his presence—his authority—keeps you grounded. The anticipation builds as he circles you slowly, like a predator assessing his prey.

“Knees wider," he orders, his voice still soft but with a firm undertone that brooks no disobedience. You adjust, spreading them further apart, feeling the strain as your muscles stretch. You watch him through the mirror, watch how he gives a satisfied smirk as you obey. You finally see how blissed out you look. A dewy sheen of sweat covers your body, your chest rises and falls deliciously with each breath, and your skin is red where you remember him flogging you. You couldn’t imagine what your ass and thighs looked like; red as fire, you imagined, if the lingering, stinging pain was anything to go by.

“Arch your back for me.” His hand is at the small of your back, applying gentle pressure until you curve just the way he wants. The uncomfortable position has you on edge, completely exposed, and yet there’s a strange comfort in the way he controls you, in how thoroughly he’s taking over your body and mind.

Eris takes his time, relishing the sight. “Look at you, already so perfect for me,” he purrs, his hand trailing down your spine in a slow caress that sends shivers through you. “You’re going to stay just like this, sweet girl, you hear me?”

You nod as he runs a hand over your head in a soft caress, trails that hand down your spine. Then, without warning, his touch sharpens—a sudden, firm grip on your hips, followed by the sting of his hand against your ass. The first slap is light, almost playful, but it quickly escalates. The next one lands harder, and he pauses to run his hand over the reddened skin, soothing it briefly before delivering another, even harder.

"Does it hurt, baby?" he teases, his voice a low murmur in your ear. "Or does it just make you want more?" He doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he continues, alternating between sharp spanks and gentle caresses, pushing you to embrace the pain, to find pleasure in the way he’s handling you.

"You’re so good for me," he continues, his tone dripping with satisfaction. "Taking everything I give you. I bet you love it, don’t you? The way I’m making you feel?" He chuckles a bit at your lack of response. “You can speak now, sweetheart, I took the gag off for a reason.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath. “Hurts…” you manage to whimper, your muscles shaking. “Hurts really good. I want more.” He spanks you again. Hard.

“Is that how good girls get what they want?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed and you recover from the sting of pain.

“No, I’m sorry,” you rush out, wincing from the pain of the spank, the soreness in your legs and arms. It’s too much. “Please, will you give me more?”

He takes one last, long drag from the joint, finishing it off and throwing the roach towards a bin. He drags his fingers down your back again, only to grip your hips and pull you further back, adjusting your position until you’re even more exposed, your knees straining to hold you up. The discomfort is intense, but the way he’s pushing you has you on the brink of something deeper, something more primal.

Finally, he moves in front of you, his eyes dark with intent. He cups your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. "If you want more you’ll have to work for it, baby.” You nod eagerly and he smiles endearingly. “You’re going to show me just how badly you want me," he says, his voice a mix of tender command and raw desire. "And you’re going to do it the way I like."

He steps closer, guiding your face until your lips hover just in front of the zipper of his jeans. "Open that mouth wide for me," he coaxes, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip before pressing it down. "That’s it. Nice and wide."

You obey without hesitation, the need to please him overwhelming everything else. He pulls you into him, his hand resting over your interlaced ones, rubbing your face and mouth into the denim. You feel pride at the way his cock grows stiffer without having taken him into your mouth. You can only imagine how good it must feel to get fucked by that cock, to have it slam into you from below when you ride him, to take it so deep down your throat you can’t even taste his release. A low ‘Now, look at that’ pulls you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see his arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t even have to ask you to keep going,” he says, his voice laced with arrogance. Your ears turn red with embarrassment when you realize you’ve been practically nuzzling your face against his cock, but oddly, there’s a twisted sense of contentment mingled with it.

He takes his time undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, mere centimeters from your still-open mouth. No one can make taking jeans off hot. No one except Eris, apparently. His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, but not too much—just enough to remind you who’s in charge.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. His cock is hard and throbbing, a rich, warm shade of pink with a slight flush at the tip. The girth is impressive, making your mouth water with anticipation. It stands proudly, the pre-cum at the tip glistening slightly under the dim light. You lean in, ready to take him into your mouth. The heat and tension in the air are palpable, and you’re just about to close your lips around him when he gently but firmly grips your hair.

"Not yet,” he murmurs, a playful edge in his voice. “You’re in a hurry, aren’t you? I haven’t given you permission yet.”

You pause, your lips hovering inches away from him. Your eyes flick up to meet his, a mixture of frustration and amusement dancing in your gaze. “You’re cruel, you know that?” You drop your arms, the strain of holding them there finally too much. He notices the shift, but to your relief, he doesn’t say anything, letting it slide.

Eris smirks. “Cruel? I prefer to think of it as… thorough. You wouldn’t want me to rush, would you? A little patience never hurt anyone.”

Your eyes narrow playfully. “Patience, huh? I expect a good reward afterward.”

He raises an eyebrow, his grip on your hair loosening slightly. “Is that so? And what kind of reward are you hoping for, baby?”

“Something a little more satisfying than just this,” you say with a teasing smirk, your wit finally returning after being silenced for so long. “I’m thinking you could make all this worth my while.”

Eris chuckles softly, looking down and relishing the view of his cock hovering over your face. “I will, without a doubt. But you need to be patient,” he repeats. His eyes linger on you as he shifts, rubbing his cock slowly against your cheeks and lips. The touch of his skin is warm and firm, and each movement is calculated, gliding with a teasing pressure. The pre-cum at the tip leaves a subtle, slick trail that only adds to your arousal.

You feel the ridges and veins of his cock brushing against your skin. His touch is firm but purposeful, making sure you feel every bit of his arousal. He takes pleasure in the way your lips part involuntarily, the way your breath hitches with each stroke. Eris’s breathing grows a bit heavier, his gaze intense as he watches your reactions, savoring the build-up and the control he exerts.

As he continues, he lightly traces his cock along your jawline and over your closed eyelids, creating a delicious blend of sensations. The warmth of him mingles with the coolness of the room, heightening the contrast between the two. He pauses occasionally, teasingly pressing his cock against your lips or rubbing it against your forehead, only to shift and start again.

Your need intensifies with each passing moment, the teasing just shy of maddening. You try to keep your composure, but the craving to have him in your mouth is overwhelming. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you whisper, “Please… let me.”

Eris’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk, clearly pleased with your plea. “Now that’s what I like to hear,” he murmurs, his grip tightening slightly in your hair as he guides you closer. “Go on, baby.”

With a soft breath, you lean in, finally closing the small distance between you and him. The moment your lips wrap around the head of his cock, a soft groan escapes him, and it sends a thrill through your body.

Slowly, you take him deeper, your tongue gliding along his length, savoring the warmth and the weight of him. The slickness of his pre-cum makes it easier to slide him into your mouth, and you hollow your cheeks as you move. His fingers thread through your hair, guiding your rhythm, and you can feel the tension in his body, the barely contained control he holds over himself.

You focus on the sounds he makes—the low, husky breaths, the occasional hitch in his voice when you find a particularly sensitive spot. Each reaction spurs you on, encouraging you to take him deeper, to push the limits of your own control. Eris’s voice, rougher now with desire, breaks through the haze of your focus. “That’s it, just like that,” he praises, his grip on your hair loosening slightly to let you set the pace.

His hips start to move in time with your motions, a slow, steady thrust that matches the rhythm you’ve established. You relax your throat, taking him in further, feeling the head of his cock brush against the back of your throat. The sensation is overwhelming, yet you revel in it, the sheer intimacy of this act, the way you’re entirely at his mercy, yet completely in control of the pleasure you’re giving him.

Eris’s breathing grows more ragged, the tension coiling tighter within him. He watches you, his gaze heavy-lidded with lust, his usual composure slipping just enough for you to see how much he’s holding back. The knowledge that you’re the one drawing out these reactions from him makes you bolder, urging you to take him deeper, to drive him closer to the edge.

But just as you think he’s about to let go, he pulls back slightly, halting your movements. “Not yet,” he breathes, voice strained but firm. “I’m not done with you.” His words are a promise, and though you’re aching to continue, you obey, releasing him with a mix of anticipation and frustration.

Eris's hand slides from your hair to your cheek, his touch gentle now. He leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a brief, almost tender kiss before he straightens up. Without a word, he helps you to your feet, his hands steady and reassuring as they guide you toward the bed.

He lowers you onto the soft sheets with care. The roughness from before has melted away, replaced by something softer, almost reverent. As you settle onto the bed, Eris kneels at the edge, his hands gliding over your thighs, spreading them slowly.

He looks up at you, and there’s a tenderness in his eyes that makes your heart stutter. But just as quickly as it appeared, it fades away. He’s silent as he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh, his lips lingering there for a moment before he continues, trailing soft, slow kisses up your leg. Each touch is feather light, as if he’s savoring every inch of you.

When he reaches your core, he pauses, his warm breath ghosting over your most sensitive spot. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, and you feel a shiver of desire run through you. But instead of diving in, Eris takes his time, pressing a soft kiss just above your clit, then another, slightly lower. His lips are gentle, tender.

Finally, his mouth closes around you, and he begins to work with a slow, deliberate pace, his tongue moving in languid strokes that send waves of pleasure through you. There’s no rush, no urgency—just a steady, sweet rhythm that makes you feel cherished in a way that takes your breath away.

His hands slide under your thighs, lifting them slightly as he brings you closer to his mouth, his tongue swirling in a way that’s both gentle and utterly consuming. Each movement is tender, every touch filled with a quiet, unspoken affection. He takes his time, coaxing soft moans from your lips with each delicate flick of his tongue, each gentle suckle.

The pleasure builds slowly, like a tide rising within you, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge, not from overwhelming intensity, but from the sheer tenderness of it all. Eris’s name escapes your lips in a soft, breathy moan, and he hums in response, the vibrations sending a fresh wave of sensation coursing through you.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t rush you to the peak, but lets you linger in the sweet, tender pleasure for as long as possible. It’s only when your body begins to tremble, when you’re right on the brink, that he finally picks up the pace, his tongue moving with a little more pressure, a little more focus, guiding you gently toward the release you’ve been craving.

And when you do fall, it’s into the softest, most blissful release, the kind that leaves you feeling weightless and utterly at peace. Eris stays with you through it all, his mouth never leaving you until the last tremor of pleasure has faded, and then he pulls back, pressing one final, lingering kiss to your trembling thigh. When he does pull away, it’s with a soft, almost reluctant sigh. He moves up your body with the same tender care, his hands trailing lightly over your skin, leaving a path of warmth in their wake. When his eyes meet yours, there’s a softness there.

Eris doesn’t rush. He leans down to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours in a way that’s more about comfort than urgency, more about reassurance than demand. His mouth moves slowly, languidly, tasting you as if he has all the time in the world.

Your hands find their way to his back, sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as your body arches instinctively toward his. There’s a quiet, almost reverent intensity in the way he touches you, his hands moving to cradle your face as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours.

He shifts slightly, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh, hooking your leg around his waist as he settles between your thighs. You can feel the hard, insistent press of him against you, the heat of his skin melding with yours, and it sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

“Are you ready?” he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft.

You nod, breathless, your eyes meeting his with a trust that’s unspoken but absolute.

Eris presses a soft kiss to your forehead before lining himself up with your entrance, and with one slow, deliberate thrust, he fills you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and comfort, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as he begins to move.

He sets a gentle pace, his hips rolling in slow, deep strokes that leave you gasping. There’s no rush, no frantic rhythm — just a steady, measured movement that builds a different kind of tension. Eris’s hands cradle your face, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks as he watches you, his gaze never leaving yours. Each thrust is accompanied by a whispered word of encouragement, a soft murmur of praise that only heightens the intimacy between you.

Your bodies move together in perfect harmony, each roll of his hips sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. The world narrows down to just the two of you, the softness of the sheets beneath you, the warmth of his body above you, and the gentle rhythm of your bodies coming together.

Eris leans down, his forehead pressing gently against yours, his breath warm and ragged as he moves inside you. “You feel so good,” he whispers, his voice husky, laced with a deep sense of awe. “So perfect.” His words send a shiver down your spine, the intensity of the moment wrapping around you both.

He shifts his angle slightly, his hips pressing deeper, and you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders. The new angle has him hitting just the right spot, each thrust making your toes curl with pleasure. “Eris…” you moan, the sound of his name on your lips seeming to spur him on.

“Right there?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear as his hand trails down to grip your hip, holding you in place as he drives into you with slow, deliberate thrusts. “I want to hear you, baby. Tell me how it feels.”

“It’s so good,” you gasp, your voice trembling with the intensity of it all. “You’re perfect, Eris, just like that.”

His pace increases slightly, still measured but with a growing urgency that matches the heat building between you. Each thrust is powerful, and precise, and sends waves of pleasure rippling through your entire body. You can feel the sweat starting to slick your skin, your breaths coming out in short, desperate gasps as he brings you closer to the edge with every movement.

“Look at me,” he commands softly, his voice gentle yet firm, and when you do, you find his gaze locked on yours, his amber eyes dark with lust and something deeper, something that makes your heart stutter. “I want to see you when you come,” he adds, his voice dropping to a rough whisper, his thumb brushing tenderly across your cheek as his other hand slides between your bodies to find your clit.

The moment his fingers touch you, you’re lost. He circles your clit with slow, deliberate strokes that match the rhythm of his thrusts, his gaze never leaving yours, his lips curling into a knowing smile as he watches your reaction.

“Please…” The word slips from your lips before you can stop it, desperate for more, for everything he’s willing to give. Your hips lift to meet his thrusts, your body arching into his touch as the pressure builds inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you feel like you’re about to snap.

“Please, what?” Eris’s voice is teasing, but there’s an edge of intensity there, a deep desire to hear you say it, to have you begging for him. “Tell me what you want, baby. I’ll give you anything.”

“Please, I want to come,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper as the pleasure threatens to overwhelm you. “I need it, Eris, please.”

His eyes darken with satisfaction, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, teasing kiss as he picks up the pace, his fingers moving faster against your clit. “Then come for me,” he whispers against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “Come for me, baby. I want to feel you.”

That’s all it takes. The combination of his words, his touch, and the deep, steady thrusts of his cock send you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body clenches around him, your back arching off the bed as you cry out his name, the pleasure so intense it’s almost too much to bear.

Eris doesn’t let up, driving you through the waves of your orgasm with steady, unrelenting thrusts, his fingers never leaving your clit until you’re trembling beneath him, completely spent. He watches you the entire time, his gaze heated and possessive, a soft groan escaping his lips as he feels you come undone around him.

As your orgasm begins to subside, he leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, possessive kiss, his hips still moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. “So fucking perfect.”

You’re barely able to respond, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you manage to whisper his name, your hands gripping his shoulders as he continues to move inside you, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more urgent.

Eris doesn’t hesitate, sensing the way your body melts beneath him, still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. With a smooth, practiced motion, he flips the two of you over, his hands guiding you to straddle his waist. Your limbs feel like jelly, weak and trembling, but he shushes you softly, his hands firm on your hips.

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm as he brushes your hair away from your face. “Just lay on me. I’ve got you. Let me take care of you.”

He pulls you down gently, your chest pressed against his as your head rests on his shoulder. His hands slide up and down your back, grounding you, before they settle on your hips again, holding you steady. You barely have time to catch your breath before he starts moving, his hips thrusting upward with powerful, controlled strokes.

The sensation is overwhelming as he fills you completely, the force of his thrusts sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body. You can feel every inch of him, the heat of his skin against yours, the strength of his body beneath you, and the way his cock drives up into you with unrelenting intensity.

“Eris…” you moan, your voice muffled against his neck as your fingers dig into his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he takes control.

“Shh, just feel me,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. His hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements as he continues to thrust up into you, each stroke hitting deeper, harder. “Let me make you feel good.”

Your body responds instinctively, your hips moving in time with his as he drives into you over and over again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your gasps and his low groans, the intensity of it all threatening to unravel you once again.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, his pace relentless as he chases your pleasure. His hands roam your body, one sliding up to cradle the back of your head, pressing your face against his neck, while the other grips your waist, pulling you down onto him with every thrust.

“God, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice rough with need. “So tight, so perfect. You’re gonna make me come, baby. Just like that.”

The words send a fresh wave of heat through you, your body clenching around him as you feel yourself spiraling toward another climax. The intensity of his thrusts, the way he holds you so close, the deep, reverent way he whispers your name — it’s all too much.

“Eris, I’m…” you start, but the words dissolve into a moan as he slams up into you with a particularly hard thrust, your vision going white as another orgasm crashes over you, more intense than the last.

“Oh, you giving me another one, sweetheart?” he growls as he feels you tighten around him. “Let me feel you.”

Your body convulses in his arms as you shatter, the pleasure ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. Eris’s grip on you tightens, his own release just seconds behind yours as he thrusts up into you one last time, pulling out as he comes with a low, guttural groan, his cum spilling over your ass in hot, erratic bursts.

He holds you there, both of you trembling, your bodies entwined as you come down from the high together. His hands are gentle now, soothing as they trace patterns on your skin, his breath hot and ragged against your ear.

After the intensity of your release subsides, Eris’s touch becomes gentle and soothing. He cradles you in his arms, his fingers brushing tenderly over your back and sides as he presses soft kisses to your forehead.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low and filled with concern. “You did so well, you know that?”

You nod, your body still shivering slightly from the aftershocks, but a soft smile plays on your lips. “I’m okay,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath.

Eris gives you a reassuring smile, his hands moving soothingly up and down your back. “Good,” he murmurs, his tone tender. “I’m here. Just relax, let me take care of you.”

He carefully disentangles himself from you, his movements slow to avoid startling you. As he rises from the bed, he gently helps you shift so that you’re on your stomach, your hips slightly elevated. “Just a second,” he says softly.

Eris heads to a nearby cupboard, opening it to reveal a small, built-in towel warmer. He retrieves a warm, damp towel from inside, the comforting heat emanating from it as he brings it back to you.

He returns to the bed and carefully unfolds the towel, its warmth a welcome sensation. “I’m going to clean you up now, okay?” he asks gently but doesn’t wait for an answer as he begins to dab at your skin. The warmth of the towel is soothing, easing any lingering tension.

His hands are gentle as he tends to you. “You’re doing great,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “Just wanted to make sure you’re all clean and comfortable.”

Once he’s finished, he places the damp towel aside and returns to your side, pulling the comforter over you both. He settles next to you, pulling you close and pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. You snuggle into his embrace, feeling the warmth and safety of his presence. His arms are steady and reassuring around you, and his murmurs of affection make you feel cherished and adored.

You finally find your voice, looking up at him with a tired but content smile. “That was incredible. I didn’t expect to feel so…” So good? So much? So intimate?

Eris grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

You snuggle closer, your head resting against his chest. “I feel like I’m floating. In a good way.” You mentally kick yourself — of course, it was in a good way. Who says floating in a bad way?

Eris wraps his arms around you a little tighter. “You deserve to feel this good. Just know I’m always here for you, not just for things like this, for whatever. Whatever you need, (y/n).”

You sink deeper into Eris’s embrace, the warmth of his body seeping into your own. The comforting weight of his arms and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lull you into a state of serene contentment. The intensity of the earlier moments fades into a gentle afterglow.

As you relax, your thoughts begin to wander, drifting back to the complexities of your life outside this moment. Cassian's name surfaces in your mind, but it's quickly followed by the image of him with Elain. The idea of them together interrupts your peace. It should sting, but somehow, it doesn’t.

Instead, the memory of Cassian and Elain feels distant, almost abstract, overshadowed. You'll deal with it another time.

You shift slightly, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat. The world outside, with its complications and unresolved emotions, feels like it’s receding. In this moment, the only thing that matters is the warmth between you, the sense of being cared for, and the gentle hum of satisfaction that lingers from your shared intimacy.

Eris’s soft breathing and the comforting pressure of his touch anchor you, and you let yourself drift in the quiet aftermath, content that you’ve found a moment of peace and connection that you can hold onto.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

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#velarisdusk hockey au #acotar #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x reader smut #eris vanserra smut #eris acotar #acotar smut #acotar reader insert #hockey au #acotar hockey au #as per yoozh if you see typos FUCKING TELL ME PLEASE THATS SO EMBARRASSING

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hazbinwhoree · 9 months ago

Note

Hiya ! Let me tell you first that I love your writings about Adam ! Our angel deserves some attention

I couldn't help but notice that there is a lack of hurt/comfort Adam fics 😠

Sooo I've been thinking (read this with Charlie's voice from the pilot) what about an Adam x reader arranged marriage fic ?

Like Adam is given a new wife from Heaven, he treats her really badly at the beginning but then kinda develops a soft spot for her ? Ending with the fluffiest softest smut you can make ?

Do we have a deal ? 😈

I Wanna Be Yours

Adam supposed he should be grateful, he wasn’t alone anymore, but Lilith and Eve had fucked him up so badly that he wanted nothing to do with his third wife. If he got too close, he’d fall in love, and then she’d leave him. So Adam did the opposite of getting close. He got mean.

(Name) was born yesterday. Created by God to be Adam’s third companion. She was born with pertinent information already in her brain, memories, and free will. Free will, and she still wanted nothing more than to be Adam’s wife.

He was so lonely, but he’d never admit it.

At first, Adam was just cold to her. But when that didn’t deter (Name) from trying to get close to him, he grew mean.

“I don’t want you, bitch!”

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

“Piss off, I hate looking at you.”

It started wearing (Name) down. It hurt, he hurt her, constantly. She was growing to dislike him. She wished she could hate him, but she just couldn’t. It didn’t help that they lived together, though Adam had banished her to the guest room, not willing to share his king size bed.

One day, (Name) gave up. She decided she was done being verbally abused as she followed Adam around like a lovesick puppy. So that day, she didn’t follow Adam. She didn’t leave her house. In fact, she didn’t even leave her bed.

To Adam’s dismay, he was disappointed and slightly concerned when (Name) didn’t show up that day. She always followed him around. All day, every day. Adam hadn’t realized how comfortable he got with it.

When he came home that day, he peaked into her bedroom, finding her asleep. His brow furrowed, wondering why she hadn’t followed him today. Adam was going to ask, but (Name) didn’t wake up until morning.

By day four, after three days of cold silence from (Name), and her still not following him, Adam decided to go home early. He got home around noon to catch (Name) off guard, he was never home around noon.

He snuck into the house but didn’t see her anywhere downstairs. He climbed upstairs and peered into (Name)’s bedroom. Once again, that’s where he found her, still in bed.

“Okay, what the fuck,” he asked loudly, barging into her room.

(Name) jumped. When she registered Adam, she scowled. “Don’t scowl at me, bitch,” Adam spat. Something died in (Name)’s eyes and she just looked tired and sad. Adam softened.

“...Sorry.”

That got (Name)’s attention. Adam had never, ever said sorry to her before.

Adam came over and sat on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” (Name) was appalled. “I’ll fucking tell you what’s wrong.” She sat up.

“I was created for the sole purpose of being your wife so that you would no longer be alone. That is my entire purpose, my whole identity. And you hate me. You’re literally all I have in life and you want nothing to do with me. You weren’t even just cold, you were mean. Nasty. I wish I hated you. But I still love you, and that fucking hurts.”

Adam was quiet for once in his life. He had never really thought about the consequences of his actions. He hadn’t seen (Name) so much as person as he did an annoyance that followed him around. Now here she was, a person. A being with thoughts and feelings. A being he’d been abusing.

He reached a gentle hand towards her and she recoiled. Adam winced. “I’m sorry,” he admitted. “I really am. I thought… if I got too close, you would leave me like Lilith and Eve did.” (Name) blinked at him. “I know that’s a shitty excuse,” Adam mumbled. “I wish I could tell you how sorry I am. I was a fucking coward, in trying to prevent myself from being lonely I made you lonely.” “You did more than that,” (Name) scoffed.

Adam looked ashamed. “Yeah… I’m so sorry. I want to start over. If… if you want that. I understand if you’re done with me, I definitely deserve it.”

(Name) contemplated for a moment. “We can start over,” (Name) said eventually. “But we start slow. I don’t like or trust you right now.”

Adam nodded eagerly. “That’s fair. (Name)?”

“Yeah?”

“Just start coming with me when I go about my day again.”

(Name) did, and over the next two weeks she would accompany Adam everywhere, not follow, because he kept his stride slow so that she could keep up. He talked to her, asked questions about her, got to know her. She quickly became a soft spot for him. It took a lot to not sabotage it out of fear, but Adam managed.

Two months in, and they’d kindled a relationship so well that they had sexual tension. They had yet to act on it, neither realizing that the other wanted it as much as them.

But this was the longest Adam had gone without sex in a long time, and with his high sex drive, it was incredibly difficult. It wasn’t much longer before he couldn’t contain himself anymore. He burst into her room randomly and announced, “I think I love you and I want to fuck you.”

(Name) put down her phone, wearing nothing but short shorts and a tank top, ready for bed. “I think I love you too, and I would very much like you to fuck me,” (Name) replied after a beat of silence.

Adam wasted no time, coming up to her bedside and picking her up bridal-style. “Adam, what–” “You’ve had your own room long enough. It’s time we share a bed. And what better way to consecrate it?” He smirked.

(Name) smiled, holding onto his neck. When they entered Adam’s room, he gently laid her down on his bed. He was going to take his time with this, he’d waited for so long he was going to savor every second.

He shed his mask, and (Name) gasped. She’d never seen him without his mask before. Adam looked slightly unsure of himself. “Kiss me,” (Name) breathed. Adam stood between her legs and bent over the bed to press his lips to hers sweetly. She ran her fingers through his hair.

“You’re so pretty,” she whispered when he pulled back. Adam wanted to make a cocky comment, but decided against it for the sake of the moment. He pulled his shirt off, then undid his belt, kicking off his pants. Then he gently pulled (Name)’s tank top over her head, thrilled to finally see her bare rack.

But before he went for her chest, he pulled her shorts down and off. When they were both in their underwear, Adam picked (Name) up and threw her further on the bed. Then he climbed onto the bed and on top of her.

He connected their lips while his hands groped her chest. His tongue invaded her mouth and (Name) moaned. Adam kissed down her neck, her chest, until her reached her left tit, and latched on with his mouth. (Name) gasped as he sucked on her nipple, his hand reaching to roll her other nipple between his forefinger and thumb. (Name)’s fingers tangled in Adam’s hair.

He pulled off with a wet pop and moved to the other breast, taking it into his mouth as well. (Name) hummed sounds of affirmation as Adam gave her chest attention, sighing when he pulled back. Adam’s hand slid down her stomach and inbetween her legs and (Name) bit her lip. When Adam’s hand slipped under her panties and his fingers brushed against (Name)’s wet folds, she moaned. “You’re so wet,” Adam said lowly in her ear. “All for me.”

He entered two fingers inside of her, curling them. (Name)’s back arched a little bit. Adam added a third rather quickly, realizing briefly that her body had been made to fit with his perfectly. The thought almost made Adam sentimental.

Because of this fact he didn’t spend long fingering her. He was impatient, and he didn’t have to. She was already ready for him. He pulled her panties down and off before kneeling back to tug his boxers down. He shed those too and pressed their naked bodies together.

“I love you,” he said quietly, kissing her lips. “I’ll forever be sorry for how I was before. Let me make it up to you~”

(Name) whimpered when she felt his dick pressing at her entrance. Adam grabbed both of her hands in his, pinning them next to her head and intertwining their fingers. “Are you ready?” he asked, not sure how much longer he could wait.

(Name) nodded vigorously. Adam gently pushed his hips forward, slowly sinking into her heat. He groaned, his self-restraint waning. He bottomed out with a heavy sigh. “I love you,” he repeated. “Fuck. You're so tight.”

(Name) couldn’t reply, adjusting to Adam’s size. Once she did, she moved her hips a little bit. “Move,” she begged. Adam didn’t need to be asked twice. He slowly began to roll his hips, thrusting in and out slowly and sensually. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough, so it didn’t last long.

Adam’s hips picked up in pace and intensity. (Name) moaned everytime he drove into her. It was Adam’s new favorite sound. They were in missionary, Adam’s favorite position because he could stare at (Name) while they made love. He could drink in every little expression of pleasure on her pretty face.

(Name) squeezed the life out of Adam’s hands. Adam leaned down to suck love marks onto (Name)’s neck. (Name) threw her head back, giving him easier access while he marked her as his.

When he pulled back, he let go of one of (Name)’s hands, sneaking his now free hand down between them to rub circles around her clit with a slender finger. He relished in the look of pleasure (Name) made, jaw dropping and eyes rolling back. His hips didn’t lose their steady pace until (Name) moaned, “Faster!”

Adam began slamming into her, and with (Name)’s free hand, she clawed at his back. Every thrust hit deep and Adam timed pressure on her clit with every thrust. “Adam,” (Name) gasped. “I’m– nngh~ I’m close.”

“Fuck, me too,” Adam panted. He kept his pace steady, both of their orgasms steadily growing. (Name)’s moans became higher pitched. Adam’s groans grew more frequent.

Eventually, they were on the precipice together, calling out one another’s names as they climaxed. Adam came buried deep inside of her, and (Name) came on his dick. They froze for a moment afterwards, each trying to catch their breath. As they panted, coming down, Adam dropped his forehead against (Name)’s, staring deeply into her eyes. Watching her orgasm had made his euphoric. He kissed her softly, in contrast to the pace they’d just been going at.

“I love you,” (Name) said quietly.

Adam pulled out, collapsing on the bed next to her. “I love you too, (Name).”

#hazbin adam #adam x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel #hazbin lute #x reader #hazbin valentino #hazbin lucifer #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin niffty

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0tivez · 1 year ago

Text

adrenalize

synopsis: a perfect student can get in toruble every now and then too, right? except this time, you get into trouble with your famous bachelor professor satoru gojo for an unorthodox reason, and he'll make sure you make up for it

characters: gojo

warnings: female reader, student reader x professor gojo, semi-public sex, age gap (early 20s to late 20s), oral (female + male receiving), very light power play, dub-con (maybe?), unprotected sex, degrading/praising, breeding. mdni

wc: 4.3k

note: yes, this is my dark fantasy of being accepted as a mean looking emo bitch. no, i'm not in love with my professor. emo sluts rise (emo=reader wears all black and has dark makeup lol sorry couldn't pull a wattpad) it's our time to have steamy office sex with 2d men. see the end for more notes!

you know, i don't really put in songs, but what the hell. this one's for the emos

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"oh, i have an appointment with professor gojo today" you tell your friend as you lay your lunch tray onto the table.

"for what?" she asks, her motion following yours. you two sit comfortably on the wooden chairs.

"i don't know. my grades, i guess? but my grades are fine, so i don't really know" you answer in confusion, and stab a big piece of chicken.

"well, i wish he would call me in his office"

"what?" you almost choke on your food. you look at your friend with big, dumb eyes. you wouldn't have been this surprised if she confessed to murdering someone, and you shouldn't be surprised at her confession either. yet somehow, you are.

"satoru's kinda hot, isn't he?" she responds, scrunching her nose. "he's also, like, extremely smart and funny"

"he's fucking old"

"um, no he's not? half of the school has bag of bones for professors, satoru's like... what, 30? i've fucked older"

"still, so inappropriate" you shut the conversation down. sure, you two had joked about how hot gojo is, and sure, the idea did entertain your mind, but it's between you two, a very private inside joke. you feel exposed this way, and the last thing you need is having that image of your professor in your mind as he lectures you about god knows what later today.

"i bet he fucks like his age too" she smirks across the table. you turn your head around anxiously to see if anyone's heard you two, but the loud cafeteria outweighs your little dirty convo.

"shut up!"

"girl you know damn well-"

"let's talk about this after i get scolded today. i don't want to worry about this man anymore"

it's 5.40 pm. where is he? he was supposed to meet you after class, yet he's nowhere to be found. and you're there standing in shame, as students pass you by, probably wondering what happened for you to be waiting like a stray kitten by his office.

of course, it's nothing to be ashamed of. god, you don't even know what you're supposed to be ashamed of yet! but here you are, cold sweat down your neck, hands nervously moving up and down your arms as you wait for time to pass.

that's how you are. quiet, nervous. yet most people have a different image of you; a colder, meaner image. it's difficult for you to socialize, so you stick to your two friends you made ages ago for your in-class interactions. for classes, you opt for quietly listening to your lectures rather than being interactive, even though you know it's not the right way, and you want to be social. that's why most professors rarely remember your name or your face- not that they're eager to know you anyways. that's why it's so confusing. what did you do to get called like this? how did he even know your name?

"ah- sorry for being late" gojo rushes next to you. his tall figure guides you to the narrow hallway where his office is hidden in. he quickly unlocks the door, and waits for you to enter first. "sit, i'll be back in a couple minutes" you nod.

once he turns around, you quickly observe his clothes. he always knew how to be stylish, even though his clothes are always basic. you figured it must be his fit figure that makes anything he wears compliment him. he's always clean and rich looking; never would he wear a wrinkled shirt. the female students would anticipate warm weathers, where gojo would sometimes wear a tight, black t-shirt and jeans. not today tho. although the weather is warm, he's wearing a light blue linen shirt with black jeans, complimented with a thick, leather belt. his shirt exposed his contoured collarbones, and arms exposed with an expensive looking watch to complete the look. and his face... god, his face.

he shuts the door behind you. you're left for your own thoughts. sitting down is uncomfortable for you, the only thing you can hear is your heartbeat. the building is empty, you can faintly hear students speaking from outside. you get up, and look around his office. it's filled with thick, leather covered books. interesting, you wouldn't assume he's into reading by looking at him, or hearing him speak. it must be professional deformation. papers are scattered around on his desk. everywhere else except for his desk is tidied and clean, but his desk is a warzone.

the door opens.

"hi, hello, sorry for making you wait. hope you didn't miss me too much" gojo paces toward his desk.

you shake your head. "it's alright, you must be very busy"

gojo stands over his desk and gathers some papers in his hand and puts them aside. "well, it is difficult to be the fun one in this department, y'know?" his blue eyes focus on yours for a moment, as he waits for a reaction from you. you chuckle in response.

gojo pulls out a paper from the batch and sits down. he raises the paper and looks at you. he calls your name. "correct?"

just the way he said your name sends chills down your spine. god, in that moment, you truly wish you would be more active in class, only to hear him call your name.

"correct"

he reads the paper quickly without putting it down. he looks like a kid doing it, yet you feel as if you were in front of a judge.

"so, interesting. you know your grade, right?" you nod.

"i-is there a problem? i thought i did good"

"oh, you did, definitely. this paper is very impressive. i enjoyed reading it." he smiles at you. "the only problem was, i had no idea whose paper i was reading the whole time"

you sit there silently. where was he heading at? he didn't call you in just to tell you to be more active in class, right?

"i mean i did know, i know how to read, but there wasn't a face you know? our class is pretty small, so i know most people. but you, who are you?"

"excuse me?" you manage to let out.

"you don't speak much in class, don't talk to anyone else in class, yet you never skip a class. and then boom! you write out this paper"

"am- am i being accused of something, sir?"

gojo looks amused. he grins, and rests on his back, crossing his arms. his muscles show up, is he trying to look intimidating? is he trying to get a confession out of you? cheating? stealing?

"no, nothing at all. i'm just curious. it's important that i know my pupils. talking to strangers affect my performance too"

"i- guess i'm more of a listener" you feel so small in front of him. this is embarrassing.

gojo gets up and walks to the chair across you.

"but you see, you don't look friendly either."

"wha-"

"i remember seeing you in class and thinking 'wow, she really doesn't wanna be here' which is new to me, cause i'm fun!" now you're sure he must be offended or something.

"sir, if that's the issue, i'll be more active from now on" you just want to leave. whatever it takes, leave.

"but why?" he ignores your suggestion. "why hate being with me?" gojo leans in to be closer to you. his long legs and big body help him be closer to you, despite the small coffee table separating you two.

"there's not a reason, sir. i don't hate-"

"i'm used to being popular among female students, y'know?"

this time, it's your turn to giggle.

"i'm sorry, is this what it's been about? you're offended that i'm not attracted to you?" lie. you're crazy for him. maybe that's why you're extra shy around him. but somehow, a wave of confidence washes over you in this moment. maybe it's the sincerity of him, maybe it's the ridiculousness of the situation. but whatever it is, it made you get a fiendish chuckle from your professor.

"it just doesn't happen. do you hate me? did i do something to you?"

"no, sir, i'm just a shy person"

"why the face?" he points at his own face, and makes a sulky face that you think is supposed to be mimicking your face.

you shrug your shoulders and smile in disbelief. "it's just my face! sir, if it matters to you, i think you're great. i enjoy your lectures, and i promise i'll be more active from now on" you wave your hands and get up to leave. gojo follows after you.

he lays a hand on your shoulder to keep you still.

"that's not it, is it? you missed something"

"e-excuse me?" what the fuck is wrong with this guy?

"tell me i'm handsome" gojo looks into your eyes. his piercing gaze makes you freeze in place. his face is too close to yours, you feel even more embarrassed to know he can see you blushing.

"t-that's not very appro-"

"oh come on! i know you want to say it" he smiles.

hypocrite.

you are a hypocrite. if this was any other person, you would have been scared shitless. yet here you are; heart beating fast, empty minded, an uncomfortable wetness growing stronger.

the sexual tension is so strong. you feel nervous, whatever you say will break the tension or make it reach its breaking point. and you don't know which one you prefer.

you stay silent.

gojo looks into your big eyes, face so close that you wonder if he'll kiss you anytime soon.

"if you're not gonna admit, i'll help you with it" he steps back. "sit on the desk" he orders, voice dark and strong. you stand in disbelief. gojo walks over to his desk while slowly taking off his watch. "you comin' or not?"

you walk over to his desk and sit obediently. your legs are closed, your nervousness can be read from your posture.

"don't be shy, you're in good hands" gojo suddenly kneels and places his palms on your knees. he looks up at you with puppy eyes. "may i?"

you bite the inside of your cheeks and nod. you unbutton your pants and rest your palms next to you. satoru grabs the hem of your baggy jeans. you lift yourself as satoru easily takes your jeans off. your baby pink, cotton panties are exposed in a comical way. satoru laughs at the contrast; your heavy and dark makeup, resting bitch face, and all black clothes hide pretty pink underwear under it. and satoru feels like one hell of a lucky man to be able to witness this.

satoru slides his hand in between your legs and lightly separates them, exposing your sopping panties. satoru's delighted to see you as excited as him. after all, you seemed scared at first.

his soft, juicy lips lay soft kisses all across your plump skin as he makes his way up to your panties. his demeanor suddenly changes, and he rips your panties beastly. one hand lowers your body further to reveal your folds better. satoru doesn't wait another second.

gojo licks your folds, all the way from your hole to cilit. his tongue masterfully dances around the delicate skin, and runs around your clit. your shy moans fill the office room. you cherish the view below you. his broad shoulders are about to rip through his expensive shirt, white hair buried between your legs, long fingers gripping your legs firmly. he plants a firm kiss on top of your clit that makes you shiver. he sucks on the delicate skin and leaves it with a tiny plop sound. he continues untill you're a moaning mess. and god, you hate to admit this, but she was right. he knows how to fuck good.

"gosh, do you do this to all of your students?" the sudden adrenaline rush takes over you, but the embarrassment follows quickly after. for a second, you're scared he'll get mad and stop, but he doesn't.

"i don't. but don't think you'll be my favorite student after this or something" he looks at you with half lidded eyes.

his warm tongue fucks your wet hole until you feel weak in your knees. you wonder how good his cock feels if he can entertain you this much with his tongue. his tongue pushes inside your hole, letting your sweet juices roll down to his throat. he's so amused at how much you're enjoying yourself, it makes his excitement only grow harder. in a few seconds, he'll fuck you till you can't walk out his office.

"s-sir!" you squirm with his touch.

"yes?" he looks up in a mischievious manner and makes gesture at you, as if you were raising a hand to speak. you roll your head back and laugh before grabbing his hair and pushing him back in.

satoru lays a flat tongue on your clit. the pressure is enough to make your legs twitch. he holds himself there for a moment, waiting for your to beg for more. and you do, you really do.

satoru runs his tongue up and down on your clit, making the pointy tip of his tongue push the skin further as he runs his tongue back up with each lap. the pointy tip draws circles around your clit, around and around. god, he feels so good. he might even cum if he continues more. it's the first time he's ever felt so good giving head to someone. your helpless little squeaks, your shy face and confident hand buried in his hair...

knock knock

you quickly turn around to face the door

"professor gojo? i brought the books" a male voice calls. "can i come in?"

gojo gets up with a sinical smirk on his face, and gently pushes you by your back down.

"give me a second!" he shouts at the door as he takes off his belt and lays it under the desk. he sits down on his chair and calls you down with his two fingers. you instantly obey, kneeling down to his knee level. gojo pushes his chair further under the desk so that you can't be seen. you quickly unbutton his jeans before gojo calls the man inside.

you grab the hem of his underwear and push it down to expose his hard cock. it's dark, your view is limited, but you make the best of it. you hear footsteps get closer, so you hold your breath. you hesitate, you're terrified of getting caught.

"so, about tomorrow's meeting..." a faint voice fills your surroundings. your heart beats fast, and your hands shakily grab his tip.

gojo's surprised at this hesitation. maybe you really do need some help after all. he pretends to listen to what the man is yammering away about. he sneaks his hand down to table and cautiously pushes your head to mouth his length. the sudden push startles you, but it gives you the push you needed.

once gojo's palm leaves your head, you start slowly taking in his dick. you hear him exhale casually, before he responds to the man. he's big, so it takes you a while to fully take him inside. you pull your head back, and lick along his cock.

"...so i figured we would go with another plan..." gojo continues. once you swirl your tongue around his tip, licking the thick precum, finally getting a taste of him. you hear his voice shake for a second. satoru pretends to cough. he must be sensitive on his tip, you figure, and focus on teasing his tip.

you start rubbing his length where your mouth can't reach. every time you release his cock, you quickly swirly your tongue on his tip so that he shakes slightly, making him shift in his chair to not expose your affair to the clueless man. you repeat: suck, pump, release, twirl. suck, pump, release, twi-

satoru spasms on his chair once again as your tongue touches his tip. you think he's cumming for a moment, but those thoughts disappear once you feel a strong hand grab you by your hair, pulling you away from his cock.

"see you tomorrow, satoru" the man says before he leaves the room. with the door closing, satoru pulls back. in a moment, you find yourself picked up like a cat and sat on the table.

"you think you're funny?" gojo growls. "teasing me like that? in front of my colleague?" his eyebrows are furrowed and jaw is clenched. he looks terrifying.

"i-i thought you wanted me to-"

"getting spoiled, hm? do you need to be disciplined?" it's almost as if gojo was searching for a reason to be mad at you, to fuck you like you mean nothing to him.

before you could respond, gojo discards your crop top and leaves you bare chested and cold. satoru can't decide whether the twitching of his dick is caused by the shock of you not wearing a bra to meet your professor or how arousing your perky, plump tits look in front of him. whatever it is, it's enough to make his beasty look go darker.

gojo hisses with what feels like frustration. he wants you, he wants you now, and he cannot waste another second. in a moment, you're pressed down onto the desk, on your chest with two strong hands pulling your ass up high. the wooden desk is warm, yet the hotness of your body combined with the cooler desk makes your body shiver. it doesn't help that gojo's teasing your entrance with his tip either. you whine under his touch, signaling him to go further in. he's amused at your neediness. you want to use your words, but you end up only being able to whine and groan. it's cute, adorable. satoru wonders how you'd be once he's done with you.

"what should i do?" gojo teases. he places his tip in your entrance, only for your hole to stretch enough to take the head in. the feeling is overwhelming even now, and you know it will hurt once he fully inserts himself.

well, they don't say curiosity kills the cat for no reason.

"p-please, f-fuck..." you whisper, tears pooling in your eyes slowly as frustration and tension grow bigger.

"hm? what was that?" gojo leans in closer to your face, making his cock enter a little more. you whimper with the new feeling. it's more painful, yet somehow very intimate.

"p-please..." you quietly respond again.

"we talked this through. speak up, don't be shy!"

you squeeze the papers scattered on the table, trying to from words, but your mind is blank.

"embarrassed? if it helps, princess, no one can hear you" gojo whispers. the irony. gojo satoru, the nonchalant extrovert that warns you in a craven tone; and you, the shy, anxious little girl, soon screaming your lungs out, begging him to fuck you.

"god, just fuck me!" you scream. it's the start gojo needed, and finally, he can unleash himself into you.

gojo slides his length inside without waiting for you to adjust to him fully. your walls stretch and shrink within a second, as he pulls himself almost completely before entering himself fully once again. your wet hole takes him fully, squeezing every inch of his thick cock. your walm, velvety walls make gojo dizzy with pleasure. his voice switches from manly groans to helpless whimpers. and you, gosh, you're a complete mess. your hair falls over your face, but you're too busy getting railed into oblivion to pick it up. you helplessly grab the edges of the desk in an attempt to gather yourself, but it's no use. the only thing you can do is scream out his name, the only thing you can think of.

"fuck..." gojo hisses into your ear. he grabs a fistful of your hair, finally opening your face. he grabs you closer to his chest and holds you in position by your throat as he uses his other hand to help you catch the rhythm of his thrusts. your back instantly arches, and you need to hold on to his tighs to not fall off. you gasp for breath as he mercilessly pounds into you behind your back. the slapping sounds are too far away from you. your vision gets blurry. it feels good, it shouldn't feel good, but it does. he moves as if he wants to hurt you, to take revenge. he's ruthless, contrary to how softly he kissed your cunt and how sweet he called your name earlier.

"yeah? feels good, hm?" gojo turns your face to his. your wet eyelashes, red cheeks wet with tears, mouth shiny with saliva... what a view he had. and him; his white hair always perfectly in place is now all over his forehead, sweat glistening his long neck, and tight muscles showing under the thin fabric of his shirt. and his eyes... his eyes screaming wildly, violently; yet his gaze is soft and caring. gojo realizes too, as he loosens his grip on your neck, and slows down his tempo. you inhale, cheeks puffed up and head slightly tilted back. gojo takes advantage of the vulnerability of the moment. satoru's soft lips lock with yours in a passionate kiss. he holds your chin in place, and you help him by grabbing his wrist. his tongue dances over yours, and all over your lips. wetness covers your lips. it's messy, you both miss your lips as satoru continues thrusting, but it's more romantic this way. you're both craving each other, something neither of you had realized before this exact moment. your heart beats even faster for a second, as you want to be like this forever. even with his most violent desire, he's so caring and romantic. you know it's all meaningless, that none of these matter, and that your affair will meet its end once he decides he's had enough. so you want to be in this moment forever.

"don't stop" you breathe in his mouth and look into his eyes. satoru's cock twitches inside you, his pace slows down. he slips himself out. did you say something wrong? did he realize what he's doing?

you look at him, confused. satoru's face is impossible to read, he just stands there looking at you. the sudden silence makes you anxious once again. you back up and hit your leg into the desk.

satoru grabs you by your leg as you almost lose your balance. he gently pushes you down by your shoulders and sits you down. he lowers his body before grabbing your knees and making you wrap them around his hips. he unbuttons his shirt but doesn't take it off. his toned abs are finally exposed. you examine every curve on his body, his chest.

satoru locks his lips with yours again. he's softer now. it's like he's known you since forever, like his tongue knows how it's supposed to move inside your mouth. this time, you don't shiver, but a warmness follows down your spine. you cusp his cheek as you deepen the kiss.

there you are, warm light framing your bodies under the sunset, bodies locked. where you end is where satoru begins. your bodies move in harmony. he gently rolls his hips into you, and you lift your hips to meet his. not leaving each others' embrace for a second. what happened so suddenly? is this the beast you were so scared of?

"yes... yes..." you moan into his mouth.

"yeah? you like it, baby?" he asks with a soft voice. you move your head and bury it into his neck. you grab his broad shoulders under his shirt tightly, making sure you're gentle. but you can't help it, you're about to snap. you dig your nails into his skin. he pants and moans into your ear. his voice gets shaky, he sounds so pathetically needy. you realize he needs you as much as you need him.

satoru holds you closer to his chest and embraces you as he fucks through your climax. his steady pace strengthens the tightness down your abdomen. you feel the tingling travel all over your body, as you beg satoru to continue.

"you close, baby? want me to finish inside you, hm?" he asks with a raspy voice. he already knows the answer.

"sa-satoru..." you breathe into his skin.

"look into my eyes" he calls your name. "fuck, look at my eyes"

you tilt your head and meet his glassy, baby blue eyes. he looks so vulnerable in this moment. satoru kisses you once more before he rests his forehead onto yours. his steady pace doesn't change, as you both wait to reach the end.

the knot inside your body tightens and tightens, until it's impossible to stand it. your body spasms under him, and you can only call out his name.

"satoru!" you squirm, not leaving his touch for a second.

"come on baby, cum for me" he pants. "my pretty little girl, you're doing so good"

you let out one last shaky breath and lose control. you shake and spasm, but satoru holds you tightly in place. he rides your climax, as he chases his own. he plants soft kisses all over your face as you lose your mind. your whole body's tingly, mind fuzzy, and numb. you stay there, watching satoru's breath get faster.

you grab both of his cheeks and look into his eyes. you don't look away or move, you hold him in place. his shiny eyes look into yours, amazed at how beautiful you are, how pretty you are for him. and how you're his, in this moment, he's yours.

satoru moves hips further once more before his thrusts stop. his moves come to a full stop. he doesn't avert his gaze, as he slaps his hips into you once more. the warmness washes over you as he empties himself deep inside you. satoru whispers your name, followed by a shaky moan. he stands still for a second, lets his cock rest inside you for a moment as you both stand in silent. he's lost in your embrace, and so are you.

all your anxieties from earlier wash away. he's right, he definitely made sure you like him. and all the papers you ruined, the ones he's supposed to show his students, he will have to think about later.

"you really are very handsome"

gojo's comeback might have taken shorter than mine, but hey, better late than never right? lol anyways, sorry for the long wait and sorry, this isn't the unboxing smut. i suddenly felt the urge to write another jjk teacher/student fic but it's a little more legal now at least. i'm also obsessed with gojo again. hope you enjoyed your meal! (ok but why do my snopsises lowkey eat harder than the fic itself)

this was... easier than i thought it would be. i missed writing so much and haven't felt this much fun and ease writing anything in such a long time! i'm so excited for jjk season 2 and the manga's progress. i think this is another jjk summer yall. also, i'm doing an unofficial internship this summer! so, since i like being active when i'm busy with daily life stuff, who knows, i might become active again

hope you guys liked it! see you next time you horny emo slut ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

#spicy #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk imagines #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #mdni #zee comeback era #i need him all the way inside me #pussy so good he fell in love #thats what a dark emo bitch does to you

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emperorundying · 11 months ago

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💀The Locked Tomb Dashboard Simulator Part 4💀

🤐 necromancer-confessions

Anonymous asked:

i'm a third house non magic user and i've started hanging out with more necros lately and... i think i didnt realize how much of hanging out consisted of talking about the eroticism of the flesh !! and i dont want to judge them but u hear the words 'viscera' 'adipose' and 'sounding' in the same sentence one too many times and u kinda wonder why yr there as someone who cannot manipulate nerves :( ig im just feeling kind of left out

#anon this is totally regular for necros esp 3rd housers #if they dont understand that you feel left out, maybe have one use their necromancy on you? #there are many ways to assemble a skeleton

(112 notes)

💉 se7en Follow

bc these have been going around :3

( 1,829 notes )

💀 6ske-le-un9 Follow

#SOOOO SICK OF SPIRIT MAGICIANS IN MY INBOX ACTING LIKE THEY KNOW BONES BETTER THAN ME #get boned bitch grrrrrr

(1,002 notes)

♱ midnighthagette Follow

this edible aint shit

♱ midnighthagette Follow

why is the seventh saint to serve the emperor undying under my bed.

💎 saintofawe ☑️

Again with the insaneposting? How unfortunate, Harry, I thought we were past this.

(21,871 notes)

🐱 cohortcatgirl Follow

V important thread!!!

Idc how much anon hate i get 4 this, we need 2 be able to appreciate the loving hand that guidez us💗

#sick 2 my stomach seeing all of these posts against the necrolord prime without knowing the context of the beautiful things he's done for us :((((((( #mr undying i am yr biggest fan u deserve better than this....

(2,023 notes)

👤 foundations-of-decay-deactivated-8172202

if one more person unprompted asks me for blood pics again i swear to the bones above i will stab myself or smth

🩸 ab-justmytype-o Follow

stabbing pics queen?

(9,308 notes)

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blkbbyprincess · 1 month ago

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housewife [t]hottie!

many wonder how you'd get ryomen sukuna; the king of curses, to submit to you and be your personal little prince.

the way he'd look at you at the park, parties, or even at the grocery store shopping right beside him was obvious to those who noticed; that something you had to offer was damned worth the while and they sure weren't talking about your breathtaking looks and charm either.

you had your husband wrapped around your little finger from the moment he stepped in from work. eyes set on him hungry with desire, and enough determination to make sure he'd be crying out "oh god's." as you would work his cocks well; but that was for later.

you made him his favorite for dinner, and served it to him with nothing but a lacey pink robe with an apron with "spank the cook" on the frontside.

this was different than other nights, because he was used to you being in one of your nightgowns with a glowy bare face and a bonnet atop your head snug as it should be. he wasn't complaining though, never. not when he could see the outline of your curves in that skimpy little apron, a new full set of top and bottom lashes with a bit on liner on the bottom lash line, and that ass.. he couldn't get more blessed than this.

"want me to follow instructions on the apron, baby?" he smirked.

"if you'd like baby, but how bout this, once you get finished eating, i'll take you upstairs for desert." immediately knew what you were addressing as dessert, the pink haired man began to catch on. "well what if Im hungry for desert now?, i've got a sweet tooth ya'know."

"hm, that's nice to know, but you havent got more of a sweet tooth than me."

that's how you ended up on your knees at the dinner table; sucking and slobbing up one of sukuna's cocks and taking sweet care of his balls while you were at it. he begged and pleaded with you to eat your pussy first like a starved man who didn't literally have a plate of real food in front of him, but all it took was you hips on his, straddling him gently, and a finger of yours up to his mouth and a "shhh" while dragging your other hand down his chest and stomach, eventually going down to him pants and unbuckling them with one hand.

you removed your hips from his and dropped down to the floor; pulling his pants down as you went. you could feel yourself pooling at your core, but you had a mission to fulfill, ignoring the fact that you'd been craving for some dick all day and toying with yourself while imagining both of his cocks would be inside you later.

you throated his shit like a champ, not wanting to leave out the other cock, you started to overstimulate him by bringing your hand to his other length and swirling around the tip where precum leaked with your thumb.

"mmhm, my bitch is taking my shit so- fuck"you had this man clutching his fists on the dining room table for god's sake, who was he to act like he was in charge right now? if anything you should've sucked him up right until he was about to bust and then stop, but why be cruel to your baby when you could remind him why he will never leave you? so you stretched your tounge to where one of his cocks started, and looped your tounge around as far as it could go around his length, and that made him loose it.

"shit shit shit, ok im sorry, y-you're in charge baby, you're in charge!" he whines. that's all you needed to hear to finish him up and get ready to swallow all his nut.

"oh shit, oh fuck, oh god! k-keep doing that please baby don't stop, you're making me feel so, so good."

"mmh, fuck I'm bout to cum down your throat, it's gonna be so much baby."

"i'm bout to-uh-, I'm bout to come!"

all you did was look up at him with those eyes that made him go absolutely insane, and that was all the confirmation he needed to shoot right down your throat. with a little more bobbing of your head, and a wholeee lot of "fuck, fuck, fuck's" , he came right down your throat with both of you moaning as he did. he tapped the tip of one of his cocks on your tongue as a signal to wring him out, and so you did. the other cock that you were handling with your hand, was leaking with cum from it too; so you were sure to clean that up as well, no need to waste any! you slowly slid your mouth off of his cock and held your tounge out at his tip. you grabbed his length and tapped it on your tounge wringing out everything he had left in him. afterwards, you got up off your knees and stood above him, with a smile, while he was still heaving and breathing shakily with a hand on his forehead.

you licked your mouth and licked your fingers as he watched and stared; just to tease him a bit. after all it did taste pretty good; it seems pineapples do help a guy after all.

"aww, baby you didn't even you to finish your real dinner!" you whined in a playful voice. you began to make your way upstairs as another way of playing with his feelings. he eventually sat up and gawked at you as if you didn't just slurp him down as if it were an average tuesday afternoon. he looked at the plate, and then looked at you as you walked up the stairs slowly bending over and stepping out of your panties while your robe hanging off your body slowly coming down as well. his jaw dropped and he immediately stood up with yet another hard-on just by the sight of you again.

"baby- w-wait for me!" he whined as he hurriedly took off his shirt and tossed it somewhere to be worried about later, and the same was done with his shoes. "put that dish in the microwave, and then come see about me, handsome." you said in a sultry tone from the top of the stairs as you giggled to yourself and strolled around to your shared bedroom. ryo's never obeyed orders this quick in his life, he picks up the plate of food and places in the microwave; forgetting to close the door and is running up the stairs taking off the little of clothing he had on left.

boyyyy, did you have him whipped.

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small-but-oho · 5 months ago

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EDIT: Since this kinda broke containment: THESE ARE MY PERSONAL FEELINGS. If you agree, let me know and we can connect! :D If you disagree, that's awesome. Keep doing your thing. I do not want to tell anybody that the way they enjoy g/t is wrong.

I think I've cracked the code of why the overwhelming amount of g/t fl/uff (censored so it doesn't show up in its tag) makes me uncomfortable: there just are no stakes.

Like, to me, g/t stories need to have a power imbalance. That's the whole readon for the trope to exist. Just like bd$m or v0re or, fuck, even just boss/employee stories, the inheirent difference in power - literal or social - is the whole point of it.

And, no offense, but all the posts about friendship and r0mance between tiny and giant just... play that down? Maybe it's because the trope has been done to death and back (we're all in its fandom after all), and people just wanna skip to the part that is new in their story. Nothing wrong with that, I'm not trying to police what people are writing. I'm mostry just airing out my own thoughts here.

But that also kinda takes out the tension? I've once read a comparison online, that in real life, two people clearly communicating their problems is good and healthy, but in a story, it takes out the stakes. Stories usually need points of tension building up the closer we get to the climax, with a big finish, and a drop in tension towards the end.

And this may just be me bitching, but I remember a time when the g/t tag was full of fearplay and looming and angst, where evil giants were as plentiful as sand in the desert. And now that's almost a rare trope. A lot of people I follow who used to post lots of angst, now primarily only post fl♡ff, which, again, do as you want. I'm just wondering why this shift occurred.

To me personally, g/t is a good way to explore these feelings, of feeling small, weak, at the mercy of a being so much bigger than me. Bad things need to happen to the tiny, because it's somewhat of a stress release. And if you've read this far, thanks and please don't block me.

#g/t #g/t community

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levilaughlove · 8 months ago

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☁️► Heads up : M x m romance, cheating/disloyalty, mentions of emotional abuse, manipulation & gaslighting. Reader is taller than Levi by 3 in. Mentions of mental breakdowns & indecent language & ofc, smut.🗞 > Chapter 1 .

""Is this really how low you think of me?", Is what she asked me, Levi, am I the issue?" Your broken voice explains the situation to your longtime best friend, Levi Ackerman.

"I know I shouldn't have came to her like that..I should've been softer." You continued, only lower this time. "You did what you felt was right." Levi finally says. "How much kinder can you be to that self-absorbed bitch? She's drained all of your energy." He adds, hyperfocusing on your sleep-deprived eyes.

"If I showed you photos of what you looked like before you met her, you'd be astonished." He snarls.

"I know you're upset with her but, she is my wife." You defend. "Your wife or your disease?" You chuckle at his snappy remark.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence until your phone begins to vibrate. The device lights up revealing an incoming call. Levi sighs at the name on screen.

"How fucking convenient..." Levi murmurs. You gaze at him pleadingly & he whisps his hand through the air as a sign to answer it. You pick up the phone & accept the call.

"Hello?" You ask.

A muffled female voice could be heard from the other line. She doesn't sound too happy.

Levi's gray eyes glare at the phone ,then, rolls his eyes and falls back onto the bed. "A-alright, (f/n), I'll be home soon. Bye-bye." You quickly end the call.

"What did it say?" Levi asks unenthusiastically. "It? Levi, I know you don't like her but, please..." "I don't care, that's how she treats you, what makes her any better?" He quickly adds. You couldn't argue that.

Levi stares at you with an unexplainable expression in his eyes. "Before you think about going off anywhere, at least eat. She can wait 30 minutes." He says, arising from the bed & leaving the room. You follow quickly behind.

"I've got lots of options, mozzy sticks, mac & cheese, I can make you an egg & bacon sandwich.." He continues. "Egg & bacon sounds nice..." You accept shyly. Levi hums & begins to get the items.

While you waited, you began to think. You were so grateful that Levi still takes care of you, even after all these years. You reminisce on your favorite memory of him. It was bittersweet ,but the love & care you had for one another was evident. You were 4, Levi was 7 & he was moving far from your shared hometown. You were his closest friend & he was yours. On the bridge could be seen young you clinging onto Levi tightly with tears in your innocent eyes. Levi tried to keep a stone face even then but couldn't help how his heart felt.

" I'll be back, this isn't forever...pea. Stop crying.." Levi's voice shakes and he hold yours small body, hesitant to let go. "Why...please stay, I need you here.." Your tears kept flowing down your full cheeks, eyes loosely closed. A woman's voice called for Levi to hurry up. "I gotta go now, kay'?" Levi quickly wipes his tears, giving another attempt at a stone face. "Bye." "Goodbye, pea."

Just the thought of it makes you choked up but it doesn't just have a sad tinge anymore, but an innocent, admirable one. You wonder if Levi remembers that.

"Earth to M/n." Levi says loudly. "Hm? Yeah..." You look down to see Levi had finished making the food. Levi looks concerned for a second before returning back to his ordinary expression. You ended up staying much longer than anticipated. You knew your wife would raise hell once you were home.

"Fuck, it's been 2 hours..." You exclaimed worriedly. "If anything goes down, you could always come to me." Levi says trying to relax you.

You give him a thankful gaze before heading to the front door. Looking back once, you wave to Levi, which he nods to.

You cautiously open the front door to your house.

Your wife is sat on the couch, already meeting eyes with you. She looks furious. "I called you at 2:00 & you're only just getting home at 4!?" She screams then bolts over to you, trying to force intimidation. "Who are you fucking, huh?" She screams again.

"I was at a friend's...(f/n)." You slightly dismiss her and wander off to your shared bedroom, undressing yourself as she follows closely behind.

"So why the fuck couldn't you say so? You need to respect me more! Do you know that at any moment I could fuck you over!? WHO DO YOU THINK THEY'LL BELIEVE?! Me!" She lashes out snatching your phone from your hand, shattering it onto the wooden floor below.

You went into a state of shock, your eyes hyperfocused on her enraged person, everything that wasn't here seemed to look like static. You began to get dizzy. You held your head as you almost lost your footing. Levi, you need Levi. You can't breathe.

You shove past her, she falls to the ground forcefully. You just want to go. You need comfort, why is she like this? This wasn't who she was when you first met her! The rain is heavy outside as you push past the front door and onto the sidewalk, cars rush past you, adding to your anxiety. Your breathing gets heavier and heavier. It's hard to see due to the rain, you're uncomfortable & soaked. The rain wasn't the only thing dampening your face, but your heavy, warm tears.

Finally, the familiar door number 255 came into sight. You banged as hard as you could on the door. Crashes of lightning roar through the sky.

Levi opens the door & your soaked body immediately crashes onto his. He understood without words. You hyperventalate & try to explain but he hushes you, he already knows. Your eyes red & teary holding onto Levi tight, & likewise him to you.

Everything began to fade to nothing.

#levi ackerman smut #gay #lemon #angst #bottom male reader #levi x male reader #levi aot #levi ackerman x male reader

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gabrielsbubblegumbitch · 10 months ago

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Hello again! LOVE op's posts about static moth so so much they are giving me ungodly amounts of serotonin ... It's genuinely been such a joy reading your interpretations of their relationship and what makes them work the way they do. Even with the limited amount of content we have of them I believe you've nailed their respective personalities and behavior patterns spectacularly and every single post has been extremely interesting to go through and to analyze off of!

Regarding the reasons as to why Valentino likes vox as a romantic partner, I also believe part of it has to do with some of Vox's more stalkerish tendencies as well? His (not yet canon but close) Voyeurism, his constant need for control, etc.

This is more of a head canon than anything else, but I do genuinely believe Valentino enjoys the obsessive attention he can get only from Vox as it does wonders to quell his constant sense of emptiness, his subsequent feelings of abandonment, and the anxieties that follow. The fact that he knows Vox enjoys stalking him, (probably) gets off on it and is actively deriving pleasure from simply watching him go about his day may be adding to the thrill and content as well. The thing is, as generally absurd and problematic it is, this behavior seems to bring a sense of security for both Partys involved: Throughout the show during all 4 episodes that feature Valentino's presence, we have yet to see a single scene with him without at least one camera tracking his movements. They are everywhere. They follow him wherever he goes, Vox can follow him wherever he goes whenever he so chooses, even to Vals own personal quarters. They are a massive, glaring red flag and quite frankly would bring a suffocating amount of pressure and sense of captivity to any other person under the same circumstance. But Val never brings this up, so I feel he either doesn't think he's in a favourable condition to complain, or he likes the idea of Vox always having his eyes on him. For me I think it's the latter, and I think for him to act so nonchalant around vox's cameras and his potentially constant, 24/7-hour surveillance, it has to have offered him some form of comfort. It has to have made him feel good, either about himself, about the state of their relationship, or both.

(apologies for the sloppy wording, hope you have a wonderful day!)

Awww, Anon, you are so sweet! Reading your question brought me so much joy <3 I think your perspective is spot on, and I wholeheartedly agree with it. I must admit I initially omitted this aspect of their relationship from my initial response because the question specifically focused on love rather than "sexy and toxic stuff." For me, voyeurism and stalking kink are more closely related to the latter category.

That being said, Val undoubtedly enjoys having Vox's eyes always on him. Being a diva and a performer, he relishes performing for Vox, especially knowing Vox's likes all the deranged shit but desperately tries to hide it underneath his clean façade. So he’s basically like “I’m going to hit this bitch for you, Voxy. As a treat.” recognizing that Vox couldn't do it himself without tarnishing his image. In return, Val receives even more attention and admiration, perpetuating the cycle.

Since you've given me the opportunity to delve into Vox's voyeurism further, I'll add some additional insights (I've been meaning to write a proper post about it for some time now but that rabbit hole is just too deep). It's fundamentally about control, of course, and it's simply a kink. However, kinks are not merely about arousal; they involve complex psychological dynamics. People a lot smarter than me wrote a shit ton of essays about voyeurism, especially since it is a very relevant topic in the visual media era. One sentence about Lacan's interpretation of it grasps really well what I have in mind when I think about Vox:

By appropriating the other as image, the voyeur makes it an object of pleasure*, while remaining uninvolved in the other's intimacy.

It’s a parasitic relationship. A voyeur gets symbolic control over their object and it gives them the sense of being powerful. And they don’t have to offer anything themselves – no effort that is required to gain control in situations with two subjects involved, nor the vulnerability necessary in consensual relationships. They can just freely feed on others without offering anything in exchange.

Without delving too deeply into philosophy, Vox's inability to live authentically stems from his obsession with his image, his guardedness, and his need for control. This sets a lot of limitations about what he can allow himself to personalmy experience. So he derives dopamine from "stealing" others' experiences and emotions, while avoiding the effort and vulnerability required in genuine connections.

*In a broader sense, voyeuristic pleasure isn't necessarily sexual; it can manifest as the thrill some people experience from watching macabre imagery in movies, eavesdropping on neighbors' drama, or even watching overly personal vlogs.

#vox #hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #Valentino #valentino hazbin #voxval #staticmoth #character analysis #headcanon #ask

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alexsoenomel · 10 months ago

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The Reveries Of My Mind (Dean Winchester x Reader fluff/smut)

Summary: What happens when you discover you can feel someone's torment and struggles through an unexplainable bond?

"Your struggles are mine. Your sadness is mine. You're mine."

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI , vanilla sex, dreams about the reader dying --not too graphic , first person fic

Word count: 6.7k

Note: I took my time with this one. I really like it. I've been struggling to write for so long it feels good to be back. Enjoy!

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

And a huge thank you to my wonderful beautiful best friend @ambergoddess444 for being the best beta reader <3

I’m gonna kill him.

I heard Sam’s voice echo in my mind as I was eating my pancakes. I looked at Dean who was stuffing his face with eggs and bacon, not really paying attention to Sam’s resting bitch face.

STOP CHEWING SO LOUD FOR THE LOVE OF CHUCK!

I heard him again and almost choked on my milk.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Oh, nothing,” I answered.

Dean just glanced at me and continued eating his breakfast.

It was Sunday and luck was on our side because we couldn't find a case. This would happen once in a blue moon so we were quite content with having a day off. Monsters sometimes sleep.

After breakfast Sam said he was going to go and catch up on some reading while Dean and I were left alone.

“Can I borrow Baby?” I asked, since it was July and summer was in full swing in Kansas. I wanted to forget about my job – about hunting – I wanted to go outside and feel the summer breeze in my hair in his beautiful Impala. I already knew his answer as soon as I saw his brow arch. He was very protective over his Baby; only allowed me to drive once after I begged him for my birthday.

Absolutely not.

“Why?”

I crossed my arms, my lips thinned.

“Why ask when you already gave me your answer?”

Dean raised his eyebrows, eyes widened as we were sitting at the table opposite of each other.

“I keep forgetting you can do that,” he said, looking away from me.

“You keep forgetting about your mental shield,” I told him as I went to the kitchen to get myself some coffee.

I didn't realize Dean was following me until I heard his voice.

“I can't just sit in silence and breathe while I think about nothing.”

“You mean to meditate?” I chuckled.

“Yeah…that.”

I took a sip of hot coffee Sam made after breakfast and turned around to face him.

“You have to strengthen your shield, Dean.”

“There has to be another way,” he said desperately as he poured coffee into his black mug.

“No there isn't, I told you. Everyone has a mental shield, but the reason why I can hear people's thoughts 99% of the time is because their shield is not strong enough. And how do you strengthen your shield? You shut up and meditate. Focus on it and build it.”

Dean wasn't pleased as he took another sip of his coffee.

“Sam meditates, can you still hear his thoughts?”

“I can, because it takes years to actually strengthen the damn shield and he started meditating six months ago.”

He just rolled his eyes as we went back to the library.

“I don't want you in my head,” he stated.

“I cannot help it, dumbass. Can I take the car or not?”

Dean took the keys out of his pocket and dangled them in front of my face. I tried to take them but he refused to give them to me.

Typical.

“I'm driving,” he told me with a smirk.

***

“Where do you want to go?” He asked me as I closed the car door.

“I don't have any particular destination in mind. I just wanted to drive around and listen to music.”

Dean gave me a soft smile before starting the engine. Baby was purring – I could never get tired of that sound; it was smooth and powerful – no wonder he was so protective of her. The car held memories, sacred moments and was filled with stories – good and bad.

“Sounds like a plan,” and with those words we were off.

We were on the main highway, heading to God knows where. Dean, of course being the driver, was controlling the music as well.

Dream On by Aerosmith was playing. I loved that song, but I was in the mood for Van Halen.

Driver picks the music. Shot-

“Shotgun what?” I smirked, glancing at him. I saw he gripped the wheel tighter and licked his lips.

“God, I hate when you do that,” he said. I chuckled.

Front windows were down, summer breeze in my face and hair gently caressing me as Crazy Train started playing. Ozzy was too chaotic for this drive. As much as I loved his songs I wanted something to ease my mind and not encourage my body to produce adrenaline. I dared to change the song.

Don't Fear The Reaper by Blue Öyster Cult.

Much better.

“Hey, I was listening to that,” Dean of course complained.

“Well not anymore,” I told him as I showed him a middle finger.

A chuckle left his lips before he spoke.

“Wanna grab a few drinks?”

“Dean I don't wanna get drunk at” – I looked at my phone to check the time – “11am.”

“You don't have to do anything you don’t wanna do. We can buy a few beers and go to our favorite hiding spot. If I get too drunk maybe, maybe I'll let you drive.”

I couldn't believe what I just heard. My heart was racing from excitement. Sam was always the designated driver; Dean would sometimes drive drunk without us noticing. I know that because he admitted that…while we were drinking after a successful hunt.

“Really?” I played skeptical; part of me was. “You're not afraid I'll crash your beloved car?”

“If you do, I'll kill you,” he looked at me and gave me a flat smile.

Fair enough.

“Well okay.”

She won't crash my car.

Well I think she won’t.

I hope she won’t.

I didn't say anything, just stared at the trees blurred on my right side as we passed by; absorbing the warmth and sunshine in my face.

It's My Life By Bon Jovi started playing.

Perfect.

Dean bought a couple of beers and some Slim Jims at the first gas station just before his favorite hiding spot.

The hiding spot was an abandoned house we found a few months ago when we were hunting a vampire nest. It was an old cabin in the middle of nowhere, a few miles away from the main road. After exterminating the nest, we started coming there every once in a while to relax and get away from everything that made us hunters. Sam completely forgot about that place but Dean and I would occasionally go, mainly at night to get away from the bunker’s haunting reminder of the life we were living. There we were just regular folk, drinking and having fun. The house was dusty and old, but dear to us, like a portal to a regular life and what we desperately wanted, but could never have.

As we were approaching the house I couldn’t ignore the strong sense of serenity coming from Dean. His mind was at ease, no racing thoughts, no sorrow he would usually carry within himself – he was happy. I’ve never told him about that; I know he would probably freak out – yell even – so I kept my mouth shut. I would be lying if I said it didn't freak me out as well. Every emotion he would feel, I would feel too and sometimes even twice as strong. It was like a bond of some sort; an invisible string connecting us and letting me see and feel every inch of his mind. I would wake up whenever he couldn’t sleep, I’d laugh whenever he’d laughed and I would get angry whenever he’d get angry…I felt everything and it was driving me insane not being able to talk to him about it, because it was only him I’d felt connected to.

I smiled at him when he turned off the engine, feeling the warmth in his soul. I got out of the car and stretched my legs, inhaling fresh summer air and soaking in the sunshine on my skin.

“Let’s have a picnic,” I suggested, “I don’t wanna go inside. The weather is beautiful.”

“A picnic? Here?” He asked, looking around. Nothing but endless grass fields around us; the highway was peeking through the greenery but we could barely see it anymore.

“You will be fine, princess,” I chuckled, “Besides it’s good to connect with mother nature every once and a while.”

Forest nymph.

He started calling me that when I told him about my love and admiration for nature and my passion for hiking and exploring woods. He told me no sane person loves hiking, but his younger brother understood. Now, occasionally I’d go hiking with Sam.

I ignored his thought, even though I wanted to tell him we weren’t in a forest, and found a perfect spot next to the house and sat down. He rolled his eyes and joined me.

Dean cracked two bottles and I opened one of my favorite honey BBQ Slim Jims and took a first bite. I loved the smooth texture and a light honey flavor mixed with BBQ aroma in my mouth.

“Cheers!” He said lifting his bottle for a toast.

“Cheers, for not dying!”

He chuckled.

“For not dying!”

One beer…

Two beers later we were both feeling the consequences of our own actions. I was tipsy due to my low alcohol tolerance while Dean seemed sober but was far from it. He had a strange gift – being able to fake sobriety. He had been doing it for years and now seeing him behaving like a drunken fool looked strange and unfamiliar.

He was looking at me; green eyes sparkling under the sun making me wonder if he and I were ever meant for something more. I was in love with the idea of being in love with him but it scared me more than death which I had experienced a couple of times. He was my best friend, my annoying best friend with a heart of gold and a shadow he wanted to remain hidden.

We stayed for hours, soaking in the sunshine and summer heat while reliving old memories and wondering if this life we had was worth it. We soon realized, it was.

“We still get to experience this,” I stated, showing him a butterfly that flew in that moment right in front of me.

“Butterflies?” He wondered, tilting his head a little in confusion.

“Nature, dumbass,” I smiled, “And other small pleasures, music, alcohol, food…and also knowing the world is less shitty because of us.”

He nodded in a silent agreement before hearing him call me forest nymph again. His warm green eyes fixed on me, making me a bit nervous. He didn't say a word.

“What?” I finally asked him.

His right hand went into the pocket of his jeans and he pulled out his car keys.

“You can drive,” he told me and gave me the keys.

***

When we came back home safely, since I didn’t crash his precious car, Sam was still in his room, probably reading and Dean decided to take a nap since naps weren’t a regular occurrence in our household.

I decided to continue the book I started a couple of weeks ago. I missed being able to read books I wanted, and not just ones for research purposes. I could still feel him. He was content. I smiled and opened my book.

An hour into the book and a picture flashed right in front of my eyes. I saw blood, so much blood on the sidewalk. Hairs on my arms rose as another frame appeared: it was a girl lying face down, head bludgeoned. A wave of fear rushed over me as I closed my book, not being able to simply ignore it. I knew exactly what this was – Dean’s nightmares – I knew exactly who this was.

Another flash. His hands, covered in blood. He was trying to wake me up. He was calling my name over and over again like a prayer of despair, but I didn’t wake up; I didn’t move an inch.

Usually I would ignore his nightmares; I was too afraid to say anything, afraid of his reaction and not being able to give him a good explanation, but my silence was killing me. Something told me – maybe it was intuition or my impulsiveness, or both – I had to wake him up.

Quickly I got out of my bed and rushed to his room. His jaw was clenched, his body seemed stiff under the white sheet that covered him just below his chin. I could hear quiet moans coming from him as another picture appeared right in front of me – he was on his knees, holding me tight, eyes bloodshot red and filled with tears…My heart broke in a second before I closed my eyes, trying to make it go away. As I approached him I could see his eyes fluttering rapidly beneath his closed eyelids, his forehead glistening with a faint sheen of sweat…I had to wake him up.

“Dean?” I whispered and sat next to him. A whimper escaped his lips.

“Dean?” I called his name again, this time a little bit louder and with a hand on his cheek. He was warm.

“Dean, wake up!” I could feel his shock as he shot his eyes open, taking a deep breath like he forgot how to breathe, shivers running through him – I could feel them all over my skin.

He took in his familiar surroundings before he looked at me.

“You had a nightmare,” I told him.

“Yeah, a really bad one,” he simply added, pinching the bridge of his nose. A headache started to settle as he got up and went to the bathroom to splash himself with cold water. He was only wearing black boxers and it wasn’t like I have never seen him shirtless, it was the fact that every time I did, I had to tell myself not to stare like a Victorian man seeing ankles for the first time.

I swallowed thickly without saying a word.

I have to tell him. I repeated that sentence over and over again. I have to tell him he deserves to know.

When he came back my eyes registered his bulge for a second before looking up. I was praying he didn’t notice.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, so much for napping,” he lied and started putting on his blue jeans. I knew he was lying, he would always lie and repress his emotions and needs. I knew he was exhausted. Those nightmares had been happening for a week straight; the exhaustion showing on his face in a form of dark circles; the once lively features now appeared subdued; eyes dimmed.

“I saw it,” I utter these three words without much thought.

“What?” He was about to button his red flannel, stopping mid through.

“I saw your nightmare, you have been having the same nightmare for a week now.”

I refused to look at him, but I could feel his eyes on me as he took my words in. I could feel a slight sting in my chest coming from him – shock.

“You can read minds AND see people’s nightmares?”

“Not people’s; yours. It only happens with you, I wake up every time you have a nightmare, I feel every emotion you feel,” – I took a deep breath before I continued; I knew him well enough to know he hated secrets, even though he was a damn hypocrite and had his own – “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to freak you out. I cannot control it, trust me I tried, but I can’t. It has been happening for a while and-”

His eyes once trusting shited and now held a hint of disappointment, his jaw clenched. Anger.

Anger and disappointment.

“For how long?” His deep voice echoed in my ears as he cut my frantic explanation short.

I froze. I knew this question was coming. I knew right there that keeping this thing a secret was a mistake. I couldn’t answer it. I couldn’t…

“For how long (Y/N)?” He demanded crossing his arms. I didn’t like the sound of my name when he was angry.

I stood up, barely feeling my legs before I answered: “A year.”

“Does Sam know?” The next question came out less angrily, his voice softer than seconds ago.

“No.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. It started as just me feeling whenever you were happy, it was hard to recognise it at first, I thought it was my happiness and then it progressed to other emotions like fear, anger and sadness and after that I started seeing your dreams. I didn’t tell Sam because I wasn’t sure what was happening.”

“And you didn’t tell me because…?” He asked like I hadn’t given him the answer.

“I told you I didn’t want to freak you out. It feels like I’m invading your privacy.”

He scoffed.

“No shit Sherlock!”

His eyes widened before he spoke again: “Wait, so that means you can feel whenever I get horny?”

I chuckled. “No, because being horny isn’t an emotion, Dean. It’s a state.”

“Oh thank God,” he expressed his relief.

“I do feel the sudden rush of endorphins and happy hormones every time you come though,” at this point I had nothing to hide, especially when I could feel his anger subsiding. It wasn’t like him to just ignore something that made him angry, but for whatever reason he was over it. Now he was mortified.

“Oh God!” He said and opened the door of his room. “SAMMY! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE WE HAVE SOME RESEARCH TO DO!”

I swallowed a laugh before he turned around.

“We're gonna get to the bottom of this!”

***

Sam was genuinely surprised when I told him about the bond. He would usually try to find an explanation or guess what it was; this time he was silent. No logical explanation, no guessing, no nothing…

“Well that’s something I have never heard off,” he just told you and went to the library to try and find some books about…

Mind reading?

Bonds?

“I don’t even know what I’m looking for,” he said, looking at the spines of old books on the shelves.

“You’re telling me,” Dean agreed.

“It’s not like I’m a monster with abilities.”

My statement was enough to light a bulb in Sam’s head: “Yes but…” – he went to the second shelf behind you, like he knew what he was looking for – “You’re something else.”

Dean and I looked at each other in confusion before Sam pulled a book from the shelf.

“Indigo children?” I read the covers.

“Huh?” Of course Dean had no idea.

“I mean it makes sense, you said you were always highly empathetic, ever since you were a kid right?”

“Yes,” I nodded as he was flipping the pages trying to find a specific chapter. The book was annotated but it wasn’t his handwriting.

“Also you started reading minds when you were 7?”

“Well kinda.”

“Before that it was like a guessing game, you just knew?”

“Sort of.”

Chapter 54. Abilities.

Indigo children are children who are believed to possess special, unusual, and sometimes supernatural traits or abilities.

“I have been on this Earth for how long and I’ve never connected the dots,” I said, admiring my own stupidity and inability to dig deeper. I was never curious enough to find an explanation for my ability; never cared enough to think about it too deeply; when I started living with Sam and Dean five years ago I told them right away what I could do. They first thought I was Azazel’s long lost special kid, the one that was lucky enough to somehow hide in the shadows back when Azazel was still alive, but that wasn’t the case. My parents were killed by a vampire and I’d never met Azazel; I didn’t even know he existed until they told me. I only knew regular black eyed demons.

“So, you were a gifted kid? That still doesn’t explain your ability to do what you have been doing for a year,” Dean scoffed.

Who names gifted kids indigo kids? Seriously?!

You chuckled.

“Wait, you have been able to do that for a year?” You heard Sam, your eyes still on the book, trying to find something, anything that would indicate the existence of the said bond.

“Yes, why?”

“Go to chapter 55,” he told me. I flipped a few pages until I saw: Chapter 55, Soulmate bonds.

An Indigo child can stumble upon an unprecedented neural synchronization when encountering their soulmate. This synchronization extends beyond telepathic communication, as it involves the transmission and reception of emotional states and dream imagery, resulting in an intimate sharing of thoughts, feelings, and subconscious experiences. Although very rare, it is possible for an Indigo child’s soulmate to be mortal, with no supernatural abilities. If an Indigo child does encounter their soulmate the bond can snap into place usually after 4 or 5 years (one case showed it can also happen after six months).

“I read this book before we met so it never crossed my mind,” I heard Sam say as I was absorbing the information. I’d known him for five years…

Five years…

It made sense.

As I was reading the first chapter out loud Dean’s wave of shock made my heart beat faster as Sam went to the kitchen to get some booze. It was like he read my mind. I have never heard of his bond. As much as I loved the idea of Dean being mine, I knew he came with tons of baggage, untreated alcoholism, and rage so immense it made my stomach turn. I was no better though just with less intensity and alcoholism.

That’s bullshit.

My heart broke hearing these words, but I finally got the courage to look at him, and for the first time his face was unreadable. He was silent. And then he just left.

Sam came back with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and three classes in the other.

“Where’s Dean?”

“He left…to process, I guess,” I said before hearing Dean slamming the front door.

Sam, knowing me too well, didn’t say anything and just poured me a glass of Dean’s fine whiskey. I took a sip feeling a sweet burn down my throat. We were silent for a while, my words buried deep in my mind; struggling to articulate my thoughts as if I had any at that moment.

“How do you feel about all of this?” Sam finally spoke, breaking the pleasant silence.

A lump formed in my throat as I tried to blink back tears. I cleared my throat and took another sip.

“I think…I’m scared to tell him he already has me wrapped around his finger with or without the stupid bond,” my answer was honest. I was scared – terrified of crossing the boundary; breaking the only rule I had: no long term relationships. Anything more than a friendship with Dean would end catastrophically; I was aware of that and yet I still secretly hoped. I wanted him to want me, I wanted him to look at me and see a safe space; I wanted him so painfully to see me and think: “She’s worth it.”

“Oh he knows, he's just being a dick about it,” Sam’s bluntness surfaced as he drank his glass of whiskey.

“What do you mean?” I asked, not really following him.

He knows?

“You two have something I’ve only experienced once in my life and yet you refuse to acknowledge it.”

My forehead creased as I subtly tilted my head in confusion. Then I heard Sam’s voice in my head as he looked at me with a soft smile on his face.

Jessica…

“Oh…” was all I could say.

“Yeah, he was scared before, now he’s probably terrified. Talk to him when he gets back.”

“So he can reject me? And probably tell me to move out? Even if he feels the same, I know Dean, and he would rather give up alcohol for the rest of his life than talk about his feelings.”

Sam snorted and nodded silently agreeing with me.

“Trust me. He won’t reject you. He’s my brother, I know him a little bit better than you do.”

***

Dean was gone for hours it seemed. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, about the bond, so I did what any sane hunter would do – I repressed my thoughts with more whiskey and drowned myself in more research with Sam. The more I drank it felt like I became more sober.

I wanted to know more about this soulmate bond. I wanted to know if there was any other way for people to block me from entering their minds besides strengthening the mental shield.

“I’ve never asked you, how did you find out about the shield anyway?” Sam asked me behind his laptop while I was trying to find books about telepathy.

“A witch told me,” I stated behind bookshelves, “When my parents died I let it control me, I couldn’t stand it, I could hear every single person I came in contact with and it was driving me nuts. So, I found a witch, a good one, and she helped me control it and told me about the shield since she was the first person I couldn’t tap into.”

I remember her fondly. Her white crow would sometimes appear, to let me know she was alive and I would visit her every year on her birthday in winter. I would tell the Winchesters I was seeing an old friend; without adding too much detail, since I knew Dean’s hatred of witches far too well.

“Good witches exist?”

“Oh yeah, she’s wonderful.”

There wasn’t any other way for other people to shield their minds from me, sadly.

“Oh but I think I found something,” Sam told me and turned his laptop towards me. I read the short paragraph and looked at him.

“I can do that?”

“You can try.”

***

Dean was still gone by the time we decided to take a break from research. Sam decided to go for a walk before bed while I went to my room to try and contact Dean through the bond. The article Sam found stated it was possible to contact your soulmate if you focused all of your energy on them.

I have no idea what I’m doing.

I laid on my bed and closed my eyes, picturing Dean standing right in front of me. Even in my mind he made me nervous. His aura was so captivating and stoic; you couldn’t forget him even if you tried. His name escaped my lips a few times, eyes still closed, but all I could hear was dead silence.His face still engraved in my mind, I studied his features: his smile lines, beautiful kissable lips, his perfect nose, freckles…

Dean? I called.

(Y/N), what the hell?

He heard me. I could feel my feet going cold as my body went numb. My heart was in my throat.

I’ll explain later! Please come home, I wanna talk to you.

In a second, my mind lost focus as I became more aware of my nervousness and he was gone. I couldn’t see him anymore.

“Crap!” I uttered in frustration and decided to text him.

Please come home.

***

I heard his footsteps thirty minutes later. I was ready for the worst; I was ready for Dean to tell me to leave; I was ready for all of it to end.

I heard him knock seconds later.

“You there?”

“Come in!”

He closed the door behind him. I was in the middle of trying to read my book, emphasis on trying, since the nervousness turned into full blown anxiety and I couldn’t focus on anything but him. I put the book down as he sat on the bed. I was hit with a sudden smell of cigarettes and alcohol in my nostrils. He probably went to a bar.

“How did you do that?” He asked, this time looking me dead in the eyes. His gaze wasn’t soft – I couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated – his eyes bore into mine with such seriousness I’d only seen a handful of times.

“I did some research with Sam. The bond allows us to communicate telepathically.”

“I-I can also do that?”

“If you concentrate hard enough, yeah.”

An astounded chuckle was all I heard. And then:

This is crazy.

I know.

His lips parted slightly once he realized he could hear me. I on the other hand didn’t want him to hear me, but looking at him, seeing the evident worry and fear in his green eyes, I couldn’t control it. It became natural.

“Where were you?” I asked and boldly decided to sit next to him.

“Went to our favorite hiding spot to think. When thinking became too much, I went to a bar and had a couple of drinks.”

“And? What are your thoughts?”

His hand gently found mine, intertwining his fingers with mine. I wasn’t sure if I was breathing at that moment. I could feel my cheeks burning as he pressed a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“I feel like ignoring how I feel about you just made everything worse.”

I’m terrified.

I ignored it and focused on his actual voice. “And I feel like this bond slapped me in the face.”

“You and me both,” I smiled.

Sam was right after all. I didn’t know what else to say but all I could think about was pressing my lips against his. I wanted to kiss him so badly, but my body refused to cooperate with my mind.

I didn’t need to kiss him first, because his lips found mine in a matter of seconds. The kiss was gentle, warm; his lips perfectly pressed against mine. I opened my mouth letting him know he could explore it with his tongue and he was happy to do so. A whine escaped my lips when he broke the kiss.

“I heard you,” he smirked.

Please stay with me. My mind yelled.

“I will,” he heard me. Again.

***

Dean went to get ready for bed and so did I. It was already 11pm, Sam was long gone, snoring in his room after a long walk and I went to take a shower.

It will probably happen.

Maybe it won’t?

Maybe we will just cuddle and sleep?

Yeah right.

Why am I so nervous?

I’m nervous because the last time I was in love with someone he left me for a girl named Karen.

In high school.

Crap.

My thoughts were racing as I was washing myself and getting ready to spend the night with him. I put on my shirt and a pair of clean underwear before brushing my teeth. I turned off the lights and went under the covers. Somehow it was always cold in my room, no matter the season. I focused on my soft pillow and how it felt against my cheek as I turned on my side. That lasted maybe two seconds as my mind kept drifting and wondering what was coming next. The thought of him pressed against me made me excited; his lips on my neck, hands on my hips…

I didn’t even realize I was rubbing my thighs together, desperately seeking some form of release. Thank God I was tired, a few moments later I could feel my eyelids getting heavier and my body finally relaxing. I wondered where Dean was as I started drifting and soon enough I got my answer.

He would always take long showers; so I wasn’t surprised when he came 15 minutes later. He found me peacefully drifting between realms of reality and dreams, and with his hands wrapped around me pulled me back to reality – to him. My back pressed against him; we stayed like this, as my patience was running low and I could feel myself getting wet.

He was melting any sense of restraint I had and even with nervousness practically suffocating me, I turned around and snuggled against him, his chin resting on top of my head. He was warm; skin soft as I took a deep breath to breathe in his scent – forest after rain and him.

“Did you know?” I whispered into him.

“Huh? What?” His deep raspy voice so close to ears made me shiver.

“Did you know that I have feelings for you?”

Sam said he did, but I wanted to hear from him.

“I suspected it, but refused to believe it. Until Sam confirmed it.”

“How did Sam know? I’ve never told him.” I said and lifted my head to look at him. It was dark, but I could still see the outlines of his face – he smiled at me.

“He told me you get smiling eyes when we are together. I didn’t really know what he meant until we took down that vampire nest back in Austin. I told you, you were an idiot for trying to take down a whole damn nest by yourself and you kept looking at me with those dove lookin’ eyes.”

I smiled. I remembered that. It was a few months ago and I was indeed an idiot. He and Sam almost died and I had to do something. I was reckless and instead of coming up with a plan I let my machete go wild.

“Well it’s not my fault you’re hot when you’re angry.”

I could feel his smirk before I kissed him, this time cupping his cheek with my hand. He immediately kissed back, pulling me closer to him like that was even possible. This time, one kiss turned into another and another. We both didn't want to pull away; his hands hesitantly started roaming under my shirt, instantaneously sending shivers all over my body. I took his hands, breaking the kiss.

“Touch me. I'm yours,” I whispered before kissing him again, not being able to get enough. I could feel his little smirk against my lips as he tugged on my shirt trying to take it off. I took it off and in seconds he took his. My mind was focused on him and only him as I felt his soft skin under my fingertips.

You're going to be the death of me.

Likewise, sweetheart.

This time I smiled between kisses. I liked that nickname, I couldn’t wait to actually hear it out loud. He wasted no time before he pushed me onto the bed and straddle me; his lips not leaving mine. We were like two addicts; we couldn't stop; we didn't want to stop. He pressed his hips on mine and I could feel him, pressed against my wet center. A soft moan escaped my lips as my fingers tugged on his damp hair. He moved his lips on my neck, while his hand found my center. A light brush was enough to make me moan his name. I was so sensitive, so vulnerable underneath him; he was consuming every reverie of my mind.

I was growing impatient, but he knew that, and now I couldn't hide anything from him anymore. The bond was stronger now, we didn't even have to try to communicate with one another; it was like breathing.

I lowered his boxers as much as I could and wrapped my hand around his hard dick, earning a groan from him. I pumped him a few times, as my impatience became his. He kissed me before standing on his knees and took my panties off. He stopped for a second.

Adoration – I could feel it through the bond. He was making me blush in the dark; my cheeks growing warm.

You're so beautiful.

Before I could answer him, he positioned himself between my legs and slowly entered me, stretching me nice and slow; his lips found mine again as he swallowed my gasp and slowly started to move. My legs wrapped around his hips, wanting more, more and more…

I was about to get drunk and see stars. My hands were around his neck before I cupped his face. He broke the kiss when we both couldn't breathe, biting my shoulder lightly, his pace becoming faster.

My mind only knew his name as I was chanting it over and over again, like a sweet prayer. He nuzzled his head in my neck, kissing it sloppily.

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” he whispered in my ear.

I was in a complete haze, unable to muster anything but his name.

His nose resting on my cheek, he placed a soft kiss only to swallow my moans once more, as we both started to fall apart.

“Dean, I-,” I wasn't able to speak, I could feel it in the pit of my stomach and I could tell, feel, he wasn't going to last much longer.

“I know, baby. I know. I can feel it,” he said and I wasn't sure if he could feel it through the bond or if my body was telling him – or both.

My moans became desperate; with that voice Dean could make me do whatever his little heart desired.

We came in sync, eyes locked and growing breathless. He couldn't keep my name out of his mouth and I didn't want him to. When he pulled out and laid next to me we were both panting and growing sleepier. I lazily moved closer to him, kissing his shoulder as he immediately wrapped his hand around my torso and pulled me close.

“And you thought we'd just cuddle,” he chuckled.

I raised my head to look at him.

“You heard me?”

“Yeah, we have to figure out how to not hear each other's thoughts all the time.”

“Well…” I started and he just shot me a death glare.

“I ain't meditating.”

I cupped his face, squeezing his cheeks lightly making his lips pout.

“Fine,” I said and gave him a pack on the lips, “we will find another way.”

“Thank you.”

I stayed in his arms until we both fell asleep. He played with my hair and I drew small circles on his chest. He asked me about the research – what I found, what I didn't – asked me about us.

“If it's meant to be it's meant to be,” my eyelids grew heavy as I mumbled the words and drifted to sleep.

Dean kissed my forehead and closed his eyes.

***

I could feel Dean’s hands pulling me closer to him, his fingers digging into my flesh as my ears heard him say my name in a form of whisper. I lazily opened my eyes not knowing if he was awake or not. His fingers dug into my stomach as he repeatedly called me in a frantic tone.

He’s dreaming.

“Dean?” I turned around and even in complete darkness my eyes registered his clenched jaw, while my body felt the stiffness of his.

“Dean?” I repeated again and nuzzled my head under his chin and placed a gentle kiss on his neck. I knew what he was dreaming about – I was dying again and he was trying to save me.

Dean, baby wake up!

I told him through the bond as I stroked his soft hedgehog-like hair. I could sense the fear lingering within him as his eyes shot open, his breathing came in uneven gasps and his chest was rising and falling frantically. I wrapped my hand around his torso and embraced him in a tight hug as the weight of the nightmare still lingered.

“I’m here,” I repeated a couple of times, giving him the reassurance I knew he needed.

“It’s just a dream, Dean.”

His breathing became stable again.

“You died,” eventually he told me. The fear was gone and replaced with sadness – sadness so somber and heavy I only felt once when Charlie died.

“No, I didn’t. I’m here,” I told him and placed his hand on my chest.

“I’m right here,” I said before kissing him. A sigh of relief left his lips.

“I feel like I’m gonna lose it…the same dream over and over.”

He was desperate, so desperate for answers it made my soul ache, but I knew this wasn’t the time.

“I know, and we will figure it out. Sleep baby, I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered before kissing him lovingly. His hand found my cheek as I broke the kiss resting my forehead against his.

“Your struggles are mine. Your sadness is mine. You're mine,” I told him as my legs intertwined with his. My hand was on his chest, feeling his heart beating faster. Something was traveling through the bond, something lovely and warm I could only describe it as love. Suddenly I heard it; a whisper traveling through the bond: I love you, before he kissed me again.

I love you too.

Tagged: @lacilou , @littlemadamred , @girls-alias , @captainannatheweirdo , @nancymcl

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